Mexico Is Forever

by Benjamin M. Schutz

  I just got the receiver away from my ear before he slam-dunked his end.

  Darla looked at me expectantly. I took a deep breath.

  “Not good. I jammed a stick in the fan and all I got was little bags of wood chips, neatly sealed and labeled. Nothing happened. He didn’t make an offer to buy me off. He just told me to fuck myself. He didn’t care. Not what I expected at all.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “I don’t know. I’m at a loss. This just blows me away. I think we should talk to Walt and see what he recommends.”

  “Okay. Let’s do it. Call him. C’mon. I’m the client, right? Well, this client is getting very upset. I’m feeling very exposed and what’s going on back there bothers me even more than it used to.”

  “Hold on already, I’m dialing.” I used Walter’s private line.

  “Walter O’Neil.”

  “Walt, this is Leo Haggerty. Strange shit at our end. I’ve been trying to tie Stephanie Mitchell to Darla Jean. They were both working in the business together. No animosity between them. Darla can’t come up with a reason for Stephanie to stick it to her. Mitchell is now the amusement of the month for Joel Steinmetz, the director. He’s rumored to have made a serious effort to rewrite her history. But when I tried to put the squeeze on him he blew me off. Took the moral high ground. I was impressed. But that doesn’t help us any. I haven’t got a motive for you, that’s the bottom line. Darla wants to know where that puts her.”

  “You know, if the D.A.’s office hadn’t been so weird on this one, I’d recommend that she go back, face arraignment, and let me represent her. I think it’s a weak case. I wish I knew whether her prints were on that bag. If they aren’t, she’s home free. But the stuff with that guy Bellicosi, him telling you one story about her being an informant on the run, then denying it, that worries me. For two reasons. One, it makes me worry about them doctoring the evidence to make this stick. Number two worries me even more. Why any of this at all? This is a pissant, nothing drug bust. She was just over the legal limit for intent to distribute. She has no priors. This is not going to topple Medellin. There is no reason for hanky panky on this. That tells me there’s something else going on here, that neither you nor I nor your client know about.

  “The more I think about it, the less I like the idea of her going back voluntarily. They’re going to send papers out here for her to be picked up. We can fight extradition. Tie it up for months. It means that she has to be very careful and stay out of sight. Any police officer seeing her will pick her up. Once she’s in jail, they’ll move to deny bail because she’s walked once already. Hell, you’d be a great witness for the other side. You could talk about all of her identities, the fraud here, her intent to flee. She’d definitely spend the whole time behind bars. I think we have a better chance if I move to dismiss on grounds of prosecutorial misconduct. That’s about all we can do. It still boils down to your word against Bellicosi’s. I’m not optimistic. Let me do some research before I make a final decision. I can’t advise her to flee but to use the tools that the system has at her disposal.”

  “Right, at her disposal, not for her disposal. I’ll see what I can do.”

  I relayed Walt’s conclusions to Darla. She bit at her lower lip until she asked, “What do you think I should do?”

  “I’d stay put for now. Avoid getting picked up by the police. If they find you, let Walt try to block extradition. I don’t know. It’s your life. You can go on as a fugitive and hope you don’t get caught, or go back and take your chances.”

  “What would you do?” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her legs.

  I stroked my beard. “I don’t know. Running’s not my style, but if I knew I was innocent and somebody had already put the fix in, especially the prosecutor’s office, I don’t think I’d have too much faith in the system.”

  “You said you could help me disappear. That you know of ways to get lost. Is that offer still there?”

  “Yeah. It’s still there. Let’s wait until we hear from Walt. If you want to run, I’ll teach you everything I know about losing yourself.”

  We sat there looking at each other, neither one of us with anywhere to go, anyone to see. Two wallflowers backing away from everyone on the dance floor, who bang into each other, turn around, and won’t move their feet. One step and they’d be dancing.

  “Whatcha doing today?” she asked.

  “Laying low. Avoiding the cops. Waiting for my lawyer to call.”

  “Funny thing. That’s what I’m doing today. I don’t know, maybe …”

  “We could do that together,” I said cruelly, knowing that I wouldn’t.

  “Yeah. What do you say?”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll tell you what, I’m going to go back to my room, lie down, and wait for Walt to call. Whatever you do, stay nearby. Things are probably gonna break pretty fast one way or the other.”

  I got up out of the chair and left her hugging herself with her chin on her knees.

  CHAPTER 25

  Back in my room, I checked in with the office.

  “Kelly, it’s Leo. Any visitors today?”

  “Yep. Sheriff came by. Had a subpoena for the Pier-sail file. I gave it to him. He also had one for you. Clown tried to get me to accept service. I told him no way. You want to serve him, serve him, not me. He was not a happy chappy.”

  “Good work. I’m gonna be out for the next day or so. I’ll call in before five to see what’s happening. Anything I need to take care of?”

  “No. I’m perfectly capable of running this shop. Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “What are you worried about, Kelly?”

  “You disappeared two days ago. I don’t know why. Nobody here does. I do know that you haven’t been the same since Sam left. And—”

  “And what? Go ahead and finish it.”

  “And she’s real sexy and a pro and do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Yes I do. I’m working. I don’t want anybody to know why or where I’ve gone. Not yet anyway. And even if I wanted a piece of her action, I’m in no danger. You’re more her type than I am.”

  “You’re kidding. She makes sex films.”

  “I don’t know how it all fits. If you don’t believe me, ask Del or Clancy. But you can relax. I couldn’t do anything stupid even if I wanted to.”

  “Good. I worry about you sometimes.”

  “Thanks, Kelly. That’s nice to hear. I’ll be in touch.”

  I put Concrete Blonde in the Walkman, settled the headphones on, lay back, closed my eyes, and relaxed. Johnette Napolitano’s smoky voice soothed even when her words stung. Sometime in the afternoon I drifted off to sleep and stayed there until I heard a pounding that wasn’t the drummer.

  “Haggerty, you in there? Open up.” I took off the headphones, rolled out of bed, and went to the door. I pulled it open and stood there, arm on the frame, ready to defend the room from something.

  Darla must have been it. “What are you doing sleeping? I was about to get the manager.” She checked her hands for bruises.

  “Yeah, yeah, what’s up?” I grumbled.

  “Dinner, that’s what. I went out shopping and whipped a little something up. I like to cook,” she said, and sauntered away. I stood there and looked at my watch. It was almost six.

  “It’ll be ready in five minutes. Don’t be late,” she said over her shoulder. “I hate it when people are late.”

  “Coming, dear,” I muttered to myself. I went back in, tossed a shirt on, slipped into my Topsiders, and went out to eat.

  She’d pulled the chair over next to the nightstand, cleaned off the bed, and set places for two. Plastic forks, paper plates, and cups.

  She brought a pizza from the microwave to the bed.

  “Mmm. Smells great,” I said. “What’s on it?” I poured two cups of white wine as she listed the toppings.

  “Artichoke hearts, roasted peppers, mushrooms, sun-dried tomatoes, olives, Parmesan cheese, an
d fresh basil.”

  Darla took a sip and continued, “After that, there’s a salad of mixed bitter greens with a garlic and anchovy vinaigrette, and scampi. Dessert is almond biscotti.”

  “I’m impressed and I’m hungry.”

  When I was done eating I sipped the wine and raised my cup to Darla. “Thanks for the meal. You are an excellent cook.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  I gave that some thought. “You’re right. I guess I never thought of porno actresses as doing anything else.”

  “Jesus, what do you think we are? Inflatable dolls? Blow us up when you need us, then pack us up in the closet until the next session? I have some news for you. I’ve got a life other than starring in your fantasies. I mean, you do other things than just jerk off, right? What makes you think I’m any different? Because I can fuck people I don’t love, or do it in front of other people? If the world wasn’t full of self-righteous hypocrites like you I’d be out of work. What I do in front of a camera is fresh off the inside of your head. You want to know what the difference between us is? I’ll tell you. I don’t have your inhibitions.

  “Life’s too short. I want to make memories, not fantasies. I’ve done everything sexually I ever wanted to. Can you say that? I don’t think so. I’ve been with men, women, black, white, Oriental, two, three, four, five at a time. I know what turns me on and I’m not afraid to do it. I can close my eyes and remember every time I went too far, every time I learned something new about sex. What it was like to drive someone over the top, or to be taken there, with nothing left. Nothing. Absolutely surrendered to desire, riding it until it rides you. Can you say that? Have you ever fucked with such complete abandon that you couldn’t remember where you were or who you were?

  “What are you gonna have when you die? Memories like that or fantasies and regrets? I know what I want. Straights are afraid of sex. Their own and everybody else’s. They want it nice and neat and orderly. You all put us down, call us sluts or whores, but tell me, Haggerty, you’d fuck me in a minute if I’d let you, right?”

  When I didn’t say anything, she prodded me. “Look at me, Haggerty. You’d pass on this?” She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Her hands roamed between her thighs. She squeezed a breast. Then she wet her lips, opened her mouth, and licked her lips slowly.

  I could barely squeeze the words past the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry to say it, but you’re right. I’d fuck you in a minute.”

  “Is it that painful?” she said, challenging me.

  “Let’s put it this way. If I could find a way to extinguish my sex drive, I’d be free of dealing with women. That’s my last form of interest. I’m a recovering heterosexual. I’m working on my abstinence one day at a time.”

  “Have you tried castration?” she said, smiling and wide-eyed with enthusiasm. “As long as we’re being honest, tell me why you’re doing all this. You said you were a businessman. A one-dollar client isn’t good business. So let’s hear it, why are you helping me?”

  “I don’t think that’s important. I just am. Why don’t you leave it at that?”

  “Because I don’t want to. You don’t answer my question and I’m out of here. You’re using me for something. I just want to know what for. Being used doesn’t bother me. Not knowing what for does. Don’t deadstick me. If I’m getting fucked, I want my eyes open. So what’ll it be?”

  I couldn’t believe it. I had managed not to talk about Sam with anyone I knew and now this stranger was demanding to know about the most painful part of my life.

  “I’m not going to tell you.”

  “Fair enough. Hasta la vista, baby. I’m outta here.” Darla went to the dresser and began to toss her clothes into her bag.

  I shook my head. There’s only one thing wrong with other people. They have minds of their own. You fix that, and everything would be just great.

  “All right, all right. Sit down. I’ll make it as short as I can. A year ago I made some mistakes. Mistakes that cost someone I loved a great deal. I might have made the the same mistake with you. I’m trying to make sure you don’t pay the way she did.”

  “Did you do something without thinking about the consequences, like with me?”

  “Yeah.” Inside me, a rage flared up. “You want to know, okay, I’ll tell you.

  “I ignored her request not to take a job and come home and talk with her. She said it was important. But no, I had an important job to do with a friend of mine. So I did that instead. She paid a terrible price for that decision. In retaliation for the job we did a man came into our house and raped her. She was pregnant with our child. That’s what she wanted to tell me about. She lost the baby. I lost her.”

  My beeper went off. Thank God. I checked it and saw Walt’s home phone number. He picked up on the first ring and spoke immediately.

  “Leo, are you near a television? Turn it on, right now, channel six.”

  I reached over and flicked on the set. The show was Dailies: The Hollywood News Report, hosted by a painfully desperate has-been athlete and a terminally chipper blonde wannabe. The blonde was talking.

  “In a press release today, Hollywood director Joel Steinmetz revealed that his current girlfriend and soon-to-be fiancée had performed in a pair of sexually explicit video tapes. He said that he’d made the disclosure to thwart a, and I quote, ‘repellent blackmail attempt.’ Mr. Steinmetz went on to say that she had done the tapes under duress, that her then-boyfriend owed substantial money to a drug dealer and had taken her son and threatened to harm him if she didn’t make the tapes to raise the money he owed. Mr. Steinmetz said he would not be intimidated by the ‘craven scum who would prey on a mother’s love for her child.’”

  “Leo, you there? Leo?” Walt yelled.

  “Yeah, I’m here. I think what we just had here is a preemptive confession. I know I feel nuked. Wow, I’d like to meet his spin doctor.”

  “Can you use it? Does it hook up in any way?”

  I looked over at Darla, who was slack-jawed with amazement. “I don’t know, Walt. Let me call you back.”

  I passed a hand in front of her face. “Darla, wake up and smell the ammonia. What do you make of that?”

  “What a load of shit.” She shook her head.

  “That night she came to stay with me, she never said anything about this. She was pissed off because he didn’t want her working. Besides, she had the baby with her then. Nobody stole her kid.”

  “Was this before or after the tapes were made?”

  “It was after the first one. I know that. There’d been a party after that one. It was about a week before she came to see me. She came to the party late, with the baby. I remember that was the first time I saw him. Hell, I didn’t even know she had a kid. He was real cute. Big blue eyes. I saw her outside as I was leaving. She’d come by looking for me. She wanted to talk to me, to find out if she could crash with me in an emergency. I told her sure. Then I split.

  “Wait a minute. I have a picture of us. One of the cameramen was wandering around the party, taking candids. It’s in that stuff I had in storage. I know he gave me one later. He said I’d be such a great mother. What a schmuck.” She scooted off the bed, grabbed the box off the luggage rack, and brought it to the bed.

  I peered in as she rummaged through her stuff. There were a couple of video boxes with her on the cover. Some magazines, loose photographs of her. In one series of photos she was braced on all fours, like a table. Two men moved back and forth as if they’d been strung through her. There was a wooden plaque with a brass female figure on it. The inscription read “Adult Film Reviewers Award—Best Actress 1991, Fantasia for Good Girls Gone Bad.”

  “Anybody else ever see her kid?”

  “Not that I know of. I mean, kids weren’t allowed on a shoot. Her boyfriend didn’t mix much with us. So she didn’t get into socializing with other performers. That was the only party I ever saw her at. I left right about then. She may have gone in, I don’t know.”

&nbs
p; “You find that picture?”

  “Not yet. Shit, where is that thing?” She threw stuff out onto the bed. “Yes, that’s it! That’s it!” She handed it to me.

  There was Darla with a baby in her arms. She was holding him and making a face, cheeks sucked in, eyes wide open. Next to her was a gorgeous blonde, her hair billowing around a heart-shaped face. She had her arms crossed over her chest, a beer in one hand, and she was looking away at the moment the shot had been taken.

  I sat back in the chair, tapped the picture on the armrest, and imagined myself as Joel Steinmetz, wanting that woman so badly he could still taste her skin an hour after he’d licked it, finding out about her past, instituting damage control. He gets rid of the masters, buys up the screening copies. Then he sits back and waits to see what crawls out of the woodwork. But he isn’t going to be blackmailed. He’s got this story line ready to go. I wonder who scripted it. Take one slut and presto, chango, she’s really a heroic mother willing to do anything to save her child. Christ, I could feel a tear welling up.

  I could see Steinmetz sitting with her clasping her hands, their heads together, urging her to think, think hard, who saw you with the baby?

  The drug bust didn’t even have to stick, it was just enough to taint Darla as a witness. Anything she said would be dismissed as a reprisal for the girl scout turning her in. Nice touch, the drugs. First she’s forced to degrade herself to pay a debt to a drug dealer and then, free of that, she turns the tables and busts another dealer. Would they let Stephanie play herself?

  The picture cooked the story though. That’s the leverage to get the charge dropped. At the very least, it established a motive for a frame-up.

  I told Darla my hunches about the reason for the drug bust.

  “So what do we do with all this?”

  “I’m going to call Walt back and see what he says.”