Shoot the Money

by Chris Wiltz

  “No, a Hyundai.”

  “A Hyundai…I don’t know. All that weight—looks like he could crack an axle.”

  Luc looked at her, biting at the inside of his plump lower lip. “Two things, Karen. I’m not giving Avery the roofie, and I want to know if Jack’s going to be involved.”

  “I’m not asking you to give Avery the roofie. And, no, Jack’s not involved. I wouldn’t tell him what I wanted the roofie for.”

  “And it drove him crazy, didn’t it?”

  Karen moved so she was farther away from Luc. “What’s your thing with Jack?”

  “Mine? Karen, think how it looks from my point of view. You say you’re not with the guy any more, but he hangs around your place, and you act like…”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re friends? I don’t know.”

  She put her hand on his bare leg. “It’s better to be friends with Jack than not friends. He’ll get bored. He’ll go quicker if I don’t fight it.”

  “I think the way you’re acting makes him more interested.”

  “Maybe for a while, but Jack can’t stay still very long. I take that back. He can if there’s football on TV.” She smiled and ran her finger along Luc’s leg. “I want to tell you—I never had sex like…” she pointed at herself then at him “…with Jack O’Leary.”

  “I wasn’t worried about that.” He leaned in to kiss her.

  She put her hand over his mouth. “Celestin, you have to feed a girl once in a while.”

  ***

  Karen found Raynie at work. “You’re racking up a lot of doubles lately,” she said.

  A couple came in, stragglers. The lunch rush was nearing its end, though the first floor was still full. Karen waited for Raynie to bring the couple upstairs. She watched the glass elevator disappear.

  “Karen.”

  She looked toward the dining room. Harley Sands stood at the wall, just inside the big room. He had on the wait staff uniform, black pants, white shirt, sleeve garter, long white apron.

  “Have any more cases for us?”

  “Maybe. Yeah, I just might.”

  “Stick around. I got a three-martini lunch going on over here.” He was gone.

  A minute later Raynie came from the same direction and eased back behind the counter. “I’m working today because I’ve got a friend from home coming to visit. He’s getting in late tonight. I’m hoping Pascal can give me tomorrow night off.”

  Karen said, “Daniel?” and startled Raynie.

  She frowned. “No. His name is Peter Meeker. Look, if you’re staying at Luc’s tonight, would you mind if he stayed at the apartment?”

  “It doesn’t matter if I’m at Luc’s or not. That daybed, there’s a bed underneath. It’s a trundle. If I do stay with Luc, you’re welcome to use my bed. Just, uh, change the sheets.”

  “It’s not like that. He’s an old friend, from childhood.”

  “You never know when it will get like that.”

  “Not Pee—Peter. You’ll see when you meet him.” She tilted her head and smiled. “So things are pretty hot with Luc, huh?”

  “Yes and no. He’s such a...little boy. But what I came to tell you—Jack got the drugs.”

  Karen couldn’t tell if that scared Raynie or excited her. A group of men entered the foyer and Raynie put on a smile Karen wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before. “Thanks for lunching with us, gentlemen. Come back soon.”

  One of them leered at her and started to say something, but his friend steered him through the door. Could have been Harley’s martini lunchers.

  Raynie said, “Yuk,” then to Karen, “So, what’s next?”

  “We wait. When he comes into La Costa one night, I give it to him. Buddha’s got a car. He’ll get him out.”

  Raynie made a face. “Buddha’s got to be in on this?”

  “Raynie, who else can carry that much dead weight?”

  “True.”

  “What do you have against Buddha?”

  “He’s scary.”

  “Only until he opens his mouth. Have you ever talked to him? He has a sort of high-pitched voice. It ruins the effect. LaDonna tells him try not to talk when customers are around. He’s dumb and doting. He’ll do whatever we need done.”

  “Okay.”

  “The other thing we need is a public place that’s private for a few hours.”

  Raynie said, “Like where?”

  “I don’t know.” Karen drummed her fingers on the counter. “Harley. Maybe he’ll know.”

  “Does Harley need to be involved? This is beginning to freak me out.”

  “Harley doesn’t know?”

  Raynie nodded. “I told him about it one night. He asked me how I met you.”

  “So what’s the problem? Having some men around is a good thing.”

  “Luc?”

  “Luc too.”

  “Not Jack.”

  “No one wants Jack around.”

  “But he got the drugs.”

  “But he doesn’t know why he got the drugs. He’d love to know, but he’s busy with other things at the moment.”

  Raynie stepped around the wall. She motioned to Harley.

  “What’s up?” he said.

  Raynie told him.

  He thought a moment. “How about a place that’s private all night? That’s locked up, no one in or out, until morning?”

  “Shit,” Karen said, “you know a place like that?”

  “I do. The rooftop pool at the Royal O. And I know a guy who can let us in and out.”

  Karen looked at Raynie and made a “you see” gesture. “Brilliant. Just let me know your days off and can you find out when the guy will be there?”

  They agreed that if Avery came into La Costa Brava, they’d check with Harley before anything happened.

  “Gotta go,” Harley said, glancing over at the bar. A tall man, well-dressed Karen could tell, even from the back, without a suit jacket, was talking to the bartender.

  “Pascal,” Raynie said. “Maybe he’s gonna tell me if I can have tomorrow night off.”

  He might have heard her the way he turned and started walking toward them.

  “Mr. Legendre,” Raynie said. “This is my roommate, Karen Honeycutt.”

  Karen put her hand in the one he offered. “Pascal,” he said, “and Raynie, you’re clear tomorrow night. Elaine’s on.”

  “Great,” she said, watching him. His eyes hadn’t left Karen, and Karen was staring at him, not saying anything.

  Karen found herself looking up—the man was tall—at the GQ type who had been sitting at the table with LaDonna and the other man, the ugly one, with all the papers.

  They were the lenders. Or the loan sharks—she didn’t know. And the ugly one, he would be Jimmy Johnpier, who had an eye for Raynie.

  “Nice to see you,” Karen said. Then, “Again.”

  He opened his mouth, but Karen told Raynie she’d see her at home. As soon as she pulled, he released her hand, and she was through the door so fast, Raynie almost said, “What the hell?”

  Raynie never said, “What the hell?”

  ***

  Karen needed to shower and change before she went to work. She was thinking she should pack a few things, in case she decided to stay at Luc’s that night. She was interested in Raynie’s friend from home, and not only that, she’d hardly been able to walk when she got out of bed that morning. They could probably use a night off. But you never knew.

  The wood gate hadn’t been pushed hard enough to engage the lock. Karen slowly opened it. When she stepped into the courtyard, she could see Jack reclined on the sofa through the French doors. He looked as though he might be sleeping.

  She burst through the doors, making as much noise as possible. “Jack, you’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to break in. You could at least close the gate.”

  She knew she’d waked him the moment she walked in, but he opened his eyes slowly. “Hi, baby,” he said sleepily. “How’s it
going?”

  Karen threw her purse on the big chair. The TV was on; Jack was watching reruns of football games. She turned toward it. The picture was clear; she could see the ESPN logo on the screen. She bent her head and saw the box.

  Jack sat up. “See, I got cable for you.” He put one foot up on the coffee table and began feeling between his toes for toe jam.

  “You are disgusting,” Karen told him. She crossed her arms. “I don’t want cable, Jack. I’m going to cancel it.”

  He gave her the full set of his white-white teeth. “You can’t. It’s in my name.”

  “You don’t even live here.”

  “They don’t care. I called from here, gave them my social, and the Cox guy was over the next day.”

  “Why can’t you watch TV wherever it is you’re staying?”

  Jack smoothed his hair down, pulled his pony tail so the band was tighter and starting twining it. “I wanted to talk to you about that. I’m not really staying anywhere.” Another big grin. “I’m just sleeping around, you know?”

  “Cute. Why don’t you rent something and put cable in your own place?”

  “Oh, sugarbabes, why would I do that? It feels like home here. All our stuff is here.”

  “My stuff.”

  “I don’t know how long I’m going to be in town.”

  “That’s what hotels are for.”

  “Come on, honey bunny, that’s expensive. Just let me stay here until I figure out what I’m doing.”

  “Jack, if one thing has become clear to me over the past three years, it’s that you will never figure out what you’re doing because you do whatever happens to come along to do. I’ve noticed how difficult it is for you to make plans. You don’t like to commit to a plan.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “I’m glad you see that. The other thing, I have a roommate. I’m not going to toss her out so you can live here. That’s sounds right too, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure, but she doesn’t have to go anywhere. I’m not gonna be here much at night anyway.”

  “She pays rent. She has a say in who lives here.”

  “That’s easy. I’ll pay all the rent. Everyone will be happy with that.”

  “You’re so full of shit. I could ask how you can afford to pay the rent on this place when you think a hotel is expensive, but I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Hear what?”

  She dropped her folded arms. “Christ.” She leaned over close to his face. “Your fucking logic, that’s what. It’s fucked!” She walked into the kitchen.

  “I’m not gonna argue about that just because you’re wrong.”

  “Jesus.”

  Behind her the game was interrupted by a voice saying the National Hurricane Center was predicting thirteen to sixteen named storms, eight to ten hurricanes, four to six of them major, category three or above. Dr. Gray confirmed an above average season with seventeen named storms, five major status. People should familiarize themselves with evacuation routes, know their destinations, make plans for their families and pets. Karen saw the remote on the floor. She picked it up, turned off the TV and went to the kitchen.

  Jack got up and followed her. “I mean, I’m not logical in the same way most people are. I have my own logic, you know? But what do we care who’s right, huh, baby?”

  He moved up behind her. She slipped to the side and flung the refrigerator door open in his face. “Whoa,” he said and caught it. Karen got out a bottle of water and closed the refrigerator.

  “I’ll pay the rent and all the bills. How’s that?”

  Karen, taking a deep drink from the bottle, shook her head slowly.

  Jack took advantage of her mouth being full. “Baby, you should see the fish we got.” He rubbed his hands together. “You know, we put it out there—” he went through the motion of casting a line into the water “—we got him to take the bait—” he jerked the line “—we set the hook.”

  Karen put the bottle on the counter, walked to the other side and sat on a chrome stool so she was facing Jack. “You don’t fish, Jack.”

  He did his deep growling laugh, mouth closed, that she used to love for no good reason, then said, wagging a finger at her. “You don’t know everything about me, sugar. Fished when I was a kid. City Park lagoon. But those were leetle fish.” He held up his thumb and forefinger the length of a bait fish. “This is a big fish.” He held his arms wide then did a little drum roll on the counter.

  Karen slid off the stool. “I’m so happy for you and Solo, too bad you have to leave…”

  “Solo! This guy gave Solo arrhythmia. He got his best dealer in, brought in three primo Cuban card sharks. I mean, he invested in this show. And they fuckin acted for him. The guy was sweating so bad they had to Lysol the place after he left. Right before he made his last bet, he looked like he was gonna puke on the table. When everyone folded, I thought he’d faint from relief. Guy walked with close to eighty, a little rich for Solo’s blood, but he’s coming back tomorrow night, and once we gut him and filet him—” more play-acting, slitting the fish open with a knife “—Solo’s blood pressure will stabilize. Maybe we’ll hold the performance over next week.”

  “Too many metaphors.”

  “What?”

  Karen sat back on the stool and propped herself on one elbow.. “Jack, how am I going to get rid of you?”

  He hitched his shoulders to his ears, slapped the counter and said, “You could shoot me. Which reminds me, can you give me the gun you took? The city’s dangerous right now.”

  Karen knew she would never need the gun. She knew it shouldn’t be there in the apartment. She hated guns, so she couldn’t understand why she let her eyes go dead, the lids at half mast, why she said, “What gun?”

  Good-natured ass that he could be, Jack laughed. “Sugarbabes, shoot me or not, you still kill me.”

  ***

  When Karen got to La Costa Brava later in the afternoon, she found Buddha sitting on his usual perch, a reinforced steel stool at the door, its joints creaking under his weight, the sides of his rear end hanging over the seat.

  “What are you doing here, Buddha? There’s almost no one—” she looked into bar “—there isn’t anyone here.”

  “Nothin else to do,” he said.

  “Don’t you want to sit somewhere more comfortable?”

  “Unh-uh. They fightin upstairs. Cain’t hear ’um from here.”

  “LaDonna and Ramon?”

  Buddha nodded. Karen started to move on, but he stopped her. “Look, Karen, got me a new tatt.” He yanked up his T-shirt to expose his huge shelf of a stomach and showed her a whirlpool of bright blue ink with a large red Gothic K in the center. “For Katrina. I’m gettin tatts so I remember all the big shit in my life.”

  “Good idea, Buddha. I wouldn’t want to forget Katrina either. You know, if I’d been through it.”

  She walked into the interior. Something large hit the floor upstairs. “For Christ sake,” she said.

  Zachary came out of the storeroom. “I hope she didn’t just throw the computer at him.”

  Karen bolted for the stairs. Midway up she heard LaDonna say, “Oh, so what’s good for the goose ain’t good for the gander? Is that it, Ramon? You can go fuck anybody looks like a good fuck but I can’t go to lunch with a man who might throw some money at this so-called film of yours? What? Because he’s got one of those things?”

  “I never should of done what I did, LaDonna. I tole you that a million times. I tole you I’m sorry a million times. I don’t know what else I can do.”

  A little more groveling apparently. Ramon said, “I don’t like the Cuban. I don’t trust him.”

  Maybe Ramon had more sense than Karen had credited him with. She yelled, “I’m coming in.”

  She opened the door, saw the coffee table on its side, all the papers on it all over the floor, as LaDonna said, “This fool thinks I wanna fuck that butt-ugly friend of Jack’s. Just ’cause I did lunch with him.” She turned to R
amon. “He’s a businessman, Ramon. He has money. He’s turned on by the idea of a movie, investing in it. Is there anyone upstairs, Ramon?” She knocked on his head with her knuckles. Hard.

  Ramon winced and edged away from her. “Fuckin stop that shit, LaDonna. He wants to fuck you, that’s all he wants. He has to invest in the movie to do it he will. You don’t get that?”

  “No, I don’t get nothin like that ’cause I ain’t gonna fuck the motherfucker. You don’t get that?” She looked at Karen. “What you think? This dumb ass reads all those crap magazines. He thinks everybody got to fuck their way into the movies.”

  What Karen thought was that LaDonna needed to know that Solo wasn’t just any ordinary businessman. Karen would have to set her straight, but she knew better than to do it in front of Ramon.

  “You know what, Ramon?” LaDonna said. “You think Hollywood’s just a regular fuck fest. You know what else? I’m done with fuck fests.” She kicked the front of the coffee table.

  “Listen up woman. You told me you thought the man’s attractive.”

  “She did?” Karen looked from Ramon to LaDonna. “You did?”

  “I said that men can be ugly and good-lookin at the same time. I didn’t mean nothin by it, Ramon. Look at Yves Montand, Roscoe Lee Browne…”

  “Who the fuck you talkin about?”

  “You see?” LaDonna said. “He’s so young he don’t know nothin I know. How ’bout Humphrey Bogart? You remember him?”

  “This asshole ain’t no Humphrey Bogart, LaDonna.”

  “Christ A-mighty, Ramon, that’s not the fucking point.” She turned, her braids flying behind her, and walked around the table, across the office. She turned again braids following a second later. “Listen, Ramon,” she said, trying for calm, “the guy’s an opportunist, just like all these fuckin opportunists runnin around New Orleans right now. Thinks there’s a buck to be made, sees a glamorous way to do it. None of this working in old moldy houses for him. He likes Hollywood South, keep his sharkskin business suit clean, the high shine on his shoes. You with me so far?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Look, a city in a country is devastated. The gov’ment decides to write it off. They lie, they don’t send aid, the people don’t believe they competent to help anyhow. Next thing, we got people runnin through the streets with guns, looting, like it’s everybody for themselves. So they send the military in and they ride through the streets in Humvees, guns at the ready, while the citizens sleep out in the streets because they got nowhere else to go, they got no clean drinking water, no food. What’s this sound like? Some third world country? Some place where there’s a war? Hell, yeah, that’s what it sounds like, only it isn’t. It’s America, and the city in question is the only place like it in the whole country. You still with me?”