Sex and Violence in Hollywood

by Ray Garton

  The subject of the high-speed chase was an ex-con in a pickup truck who had shot and killed three people while trying to rob a bank in Orange County. Overhead, the media locusts swarmed, unfazed by their loss, buzzing on, voraciously eating up images that played in living rooms all over southern California, the country, the world. The chase made television ratings soar. Before it ended in the spectacular crash everyone had been hoping for, one of the two television stations that had lost a helicopter in the crash had to evacuate everyone from the building when they received several bomb threats from viewers angry that the station was not covering the chase from the air.

  The news was busy, and had no room for a little story about a liquor store shooting in Compton.

  * * *

  After getting home from Alyssa’s house, Adam took a swim, a hot shower. He had tried to lock his bedroom door before showering, but it had no lock. It had never been a problem before. The bathroom door did, though, and he used it, made a mental note to put a deadbolt on his bedroom door. He did not want Rain popping in on him whenever she pleased, like the goofy next-door neighbor in a sitcom. An evil female Kramer. And the idea of Gwen sneaking in while his dad remained in the house gave Adam the creeps.

  Early in the afternoon, he went down to the living room and watched the flat-screen television on the wall for a while. Just in time to catch the opening of Double Indemnity on American Movie Classics, a classic Adam had never seen. He fell into the movie immediately. Stretched out on the sofa, dug into a bowl of mixed nuts he had taken from the end table.

  Adam quickly sympathized with insurance salesman Walter Neff, seduced into helping Barbara Stanwyck kill her husband for the insurance money. Neff ends up putting three bullets into his femme fatale.

  Rain was Adam’s Barbara Stanwyck. Adam, like Neff, had been weak, had given in when he should have stood firm. Embraced Rain when he should have walked away. Then he realized something that made him close his eyes and cover his face with both hands.

  Walter Neff was played by Fred MacMurray, who later played the father on My Three Sons.

  “I am Mr. Douglas,” Adam muttered into his palms. “Rain was right.”

  “Rain was right about what?”

  Adam sat up so suddenly at the sound of Gwen’s voice, he nearly fell off the sofa. Mixed nuts scattered over the carpet and coffee table when he clumsily hit the bowl with the side of his hand. Cursing under his breath, he got down on his knees to pick up the nuts. “You scared me,” he said.

  “I can tell,” she said, standing behind the sofa. “You must have a guilty conscience.”

  Adam looked up to see if she was serious. She wore a short white skirt and a plaid short-sleeved shirt tied just above an exposed strip of her belly. Her eyes were covered by large round Jackie O. sunglasses.

  “You have a hangover?” Adam asked.

  Gwen walked around the sofa, got down on her knees in front of him and helped him pick up the spilled nuts.

  “What was Rain right about?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing. Just a stupid nickname.”

  “A nickname? Sounds like you and Rain are pretty friendly.” No change in her tone, very casual.

  Adam shrugged and said, “I don’t know. We live in the same house.”

  “And she has a nickname for you?”

  “Yeah. She thinks I’m too uptight, so she calls me Mr. Douglas. You know, Fred MacMurray on My Three Sons.”

  “You got off easy,” Gwen said. She dropped a handful of nuts back into the glass bowl on the coffee table. “She calls me ‘cunt’.”

  Adam did not doubt it. “Why the sunglasses?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

  She shook her head slowly, but said nothing.

  He gave her a black eye, Adam thought. He reached for the sunglasses, but she grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand away.

  “Please, just...give it a couple days to get better,” she whispered, gripping his wrist hard. A tear dropped from beneath each of the dark, round lenses onto her cheeks. “It’s too ugly right now, okay?”

  “Sure, okay.” Adam started to pull his hand away, but Gwen took it in hers and squeezed. Anger rose from deep inside him, made him feel hot for a moment. “That...that son of a bitch. He needs to have the shit kicked out of him, you know that? He needs to—”

  “Stop it,” she said. “You just stay out of it, okay?”

  “Oh, not me. He’d kill me. I mean we need to find somebody big enough who can kick the—”

  “Stop talking like that, Adam. It doesn’t suit you.”

  With all the nuts back in the bowl, Adam put it back on the end table. Gwen flopped onto the sofa and he joined her.

  “What’re you watching?” she asked.

  “Double Indemnity just got over. You’re in time for The Mole People.”

  She leaned her head back and released a long, surrendering sigh. “I knew what I was getting into,” she whispered. “Now I’m just gonna have to take it.”

  “He didn’t waste any time with you, did he?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he didn’t start hitting my mom until a while before she—”

  Gwen laughed bitterly. “Adam, honey, when you’re a little kid, you may be able to tell something’s not right in the house. But you don’t know everything going on between Mommy and Daddy. I think he was beating her long before you noticed.”

  Adam wondered if that were possible. Had his dad been beating his mom all along? The possibility sent a pang through his chest. Maybe his mom had hidden it from him. It made him want to kill his dad even more.

  Gwen chuckled coldly. “Hell, he started on me before we were married. But here I am.”

  If she’s stupid enough to marry him after he’d beaten her, Adam thought, maybe she deserves to die. A second later: No, no, that’s a horrible thought. Gwen’s decent, a good person. I’d think that even if we hadn’t had sex. Wouldn’t I?

  Adam asked, “So, is it his money, or his charm? I forget.”

  She gave it a moment of thought, then nodded. “Yeah. That’s pretty much it. The money. Michael is fun at a party because he says whatever comes into his head, like an Alzheimer’s patient. But as a husband, he sucks.”

  “What was your other husband like?”

  “He was a lot of things, but he never beat me.”

  “Why didn’t you stay with him?”

  “Because he was always moving around. And he was a loser. I didn’t stay with him because I couldn’t keep up with him.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Whatever he could find. No ambition. No drive. The only reason we moved so much was to avoid creditors.”

  “What about...others? I mean, you were married before him. Weren’t you?”

  Gwen sat up, turned toward him, frowning. “You writing my unauthorized autobiography for me?”

  “Just curious.”

  She brushed his hair from his forehead with her fingers. “You need a haircut,” she said.

  “Nah. It’s fine.”

  “Wanna go upstairs?”

  He looked at her, she looked at his hair. “Sorry, Gwen. I just can’t.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just...this girl I met. The one I told you about.”

  Her tense face opened up when she smiled. “Oh? Is it getting serious?”

  “I guess so. I hadn’t thought of it that way. Serious. But I was with her this morning, and I can’t wait to be with her again.”

  “Sounds like Adam’s in love.”

  He considered that. “Maybe so. I don’t know.”

  “I’m happy for you. That’s wonderful.”

  “But it’s got nothing to do with you. I mean, I don’t want you to take it pers—”

  “I know, I know. You don’t have to tell me that.” She kissed him on the cheek, then stood. “I need to change clothes. I’ve got some errands to run, shopping to do.”

  Adam stood, watched her cross th
e room. “Hey, Gwen. You’re not...you know, upset with me, or anything. Are you?”

  She stopped abruptly. “Oh, no, honey, please don’t think that. I’m not, really. I want you to be happy.” She smiled and left the room.

  Would the vile woman Rain had described behave that way? He didn’t think so.

  Daytime television was too depressing to watch during the day, so he turned it off and left the living room. Halfway up the stairs, movement rushed up behind him. He turned to see Rain bounding up the stairs toward him.

  Eyes round, lips parted, she stopped a couple steps beneath him, out of breath. Looked like she was about to speak. Instead, she grabbed his elbow and pulled him the rest of the way up the stairs. On the landing, she jerked him to the left, down the hall and into her bedroom. Slammed the door and turned to him.

  “Monty is alive,” she said.

  It sounded like gibberish to Adam. “What?”

  “I said, Monty is alive. In a coma, but alive.”

  Something was not right. Was the floor slanted? The walls crooked? He could not put his finger on it. “Well, that’s...good. Right? I mean, he’s your friend and—”

  “It’s no fuckin’ good if he comes out of that coma, ’cause if he does,” Rain went on, “he’s gonna tell everything.” She took a pack of cigarettes from her nightstand and lit one. “All about how you robbed the store with him. About the gun. About why we were with him in the first place.”

  “Why would he do that to you?” Adam asked.

  “Normally, he wouldn’t. The shape he’s in now, full of drugs and holes, who knows? He could spill everything without even knowing it. Might even be talking in his coma. Can people do that? Talk in comas?”

  Dizzy, he staggered toward a chair covered with clothes, fell into it.

  “Monty can’t wake up, Adam. We can’t let him.”

  Unable to catch his breath, he clutched his shirt. “I’ve gotta go outside,” he said, shooting out of the chair. His voice sounded like gravel being crushed. “Walk around. Or leave. Go somewhere.”

  Rain went to the door, leaned her back against it. “We don’t have time.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with it,” he said. His heart flopped around in his chest like a dying fish. Knees trembled. Unable to leave the room, he started pacing. “I don’t even want to know about it.”

  “No time to fantasize. Big Brother. We’ve gotta do it fast. He could wake up any second and start shooting off his mouth. Telling everything.”

  “Then you do it!” Adam shouted. “He’s your friend, not mine, you kill him! You got me into this shit! He wouldn’t be in a coma if you’d told me he wanted to rob a liquor store, because I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to drive him to the liquor store in the first place!”

  “Me? I’m not gonna do it.”

  “Fine. Then it won’t get done.” Adam slowed down, took deep breaths. His legs were getting worse. Making him walk like Ray Bolger in The Wizard of Oz.

  “Hey, it’s your ass, Mr. Douglas. Maybe you’ll get lucky and he’ll die.” The deep breaths were not working.

  “Then again,” Rain added, “maybe he’s awake already.”

  A surge of blinding anger coursed through him. Next thing he knew, he had Rain pinned against the door, hands squeezing her throat. He lifted her off the floor, and her small feet dangled. Teeth clenched, spitting his words: “Rats. And snakes. Cringe. In your presence. Don’t they?”

  Rain smiled as her face reddened, eyes teared up.

  “Oh God.” Adam dropped her abruptly. Shocked, he pulled himself away from her, staggered to the bed. Sat on the edge of the mattress and fell back, arms spread.

  Rain laughed as she walked to the bed. “No time to play,” she said.

  A headache dug its claws into his brain, settling in. Worse, his lungs were shrinking. “I-I think I’m...having a huh-heart attack.”

  “You’re hyperventilating. Calm down.”

  “Jesus. What’m I gonna do?”

  “Don’t be a fuckin’ bonehead. Big Brother,” Rain said as she smiled down at him. “You’re gonna kill Monty.”

  EIGHTEEN

  "I can’t believe you brought this car!” Carter said. “Why didn’t you bring the Caddy?”

  Adam shrugged a shoulder. “The convertible stands out too much.”

  “Stands out? You think people are gonna mistake all this gunshot damage for bird shit? Think you were strafed by a squadron of pigeons? What’d your dad say?”

  “He didn’t see it,” Adam said.

  “Really? Your dad didn’t notice this?”

  “Adam was out all night,” Rain said. “The big scary daddyman was already gone when Adam got in this morning.”

  Carter looked back at her as she lit a cigarette, blew smoke in his direction, eyes hidden behind the wraparound sunglasses. He looked at Adam again and asked, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “Oh, what, you’re my mother, now?” Adam shouted. “I have to report to you?” He glanced repeatedly at Carter, eyes cutting beneath a frown.

  Carter flinched at Adam’s anger. “Hey, what’s the matter with you?”

  Adam did not respond, kept his eyes on the road.

  Slumped in the backseat, Rain took a drag on her cigarette, blew a smoke ring. Poked her cigarette through the quavering circle a few times, smirking.

  Carter stared intensely at Adam for a moment. “What did you mean about the convertible standing out?” He looked through the windshield, the side window, back at Adam. “We’re not going to Denny’s for breakfast, are we?”

  Adam shook his head slowly, and explained.

  “Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me!” Carter shouted. “I can’t believe you—I mean, I-I-I—what the hell did you come get me for?”

  “You said you wanted to help,” Adam said.

  “I said I’d help you kill your dad! I was very specific! I didn’t say a damned thing about any coma patients!”

  Rain leaned forward between them, looked at Carter. “This is just as much your problem as ours. You were there.”

  “I didn’t get out of the car!”

  “You think the cops’ll care about that?” Adam said.

  Rain said, “You were there, Carter. You think if Monty wakes up and starts talking, he’s gonna fuckin’ forget about you?”

  Carter rocked himself, fidgeted. Bit his lower lip, ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t—you shouldn’t have—I gotta get out.” He reached for the door’s handle.

  Adam hit the console’s master-lock button and saved Carter from an ugly death.

  “He’s in ICU at LAC/USC Medical Center,” Rain said. “I don’t know if they’ve got a cop guarding him. If so, this is gonna be a fuckin’ pain in the ass.”

  Carter looked at her with wide, incredulous eyes. “You don’t know how you’re gonna do this yet?”

  “I just found out a little while ago, so give me a fuckin’ break,” Rain said.

  “Do you have any idea how you’re gonna kill this guy once you get to him?”

  Rain shrugged. “Pull his plugs.”

  “Plugs? Which plugs? You ever been within a mile of a life support system? Do you even know what one looks like?” He turned to Adam. “C’mon, tell me you’re not seriously gonna do this. You know what’s gonna happen? You’re gonna go in there and unplug the television. He might not even be allowed visitors, you think of that? The guy’s a pile of hamburger with tubes, he’s not lonely.”

  “We won’t know until we get there,” Adam said.

  “But they’ll see you, Adam! You go in there, finish him off, come back out, people will see you. If you even get that far. They’ll be able to identify you.”

  Rain said, “Right now, we don’t have much fuckin’ choice.”

  Carter glared at her. “Hey. Elizabeth Bathory. I’m not talking to you.”

  “I hate to admit it,” Adam said, “but she’s right.”

  “Who’s Elizabeth Bathory?” Rain asked.<
br />
  “C’mon, Adam, you don’t really think he’s gonna sit up in bed all of a sudden and hold a press conference, do you? He’s not gonna come out of that coma!”

  “I said, who the fuck is Elizabeth Bathory?” Rain said impatiently.

  “We don’t know that,” Adam said. “We’ve got to make sure it doesn’t happen.” He swallowed, but had no saliva in his mouth.

  “Goddamnit, who is Elizabeth fucking Bathory? And what’s this fuckin’ we shit? I’m gonna warm this seat, you’re on your own, Mr. Douglas.” She flopped back, took another puff on her cigarette.

  Adam looked at her in the rearview and his eyes narrowed. “Elizabeth Bathory was a sixteenth century Hungarian countess who murdered over six hundred young girls in her lifetime. She believed their blood kept her young. She tortured each of them, drained their blood, then drank it, cooked with it, and bathed in it. But next to you. Rain, she’s Shirley fucking Temple!”

  “Fuck you, Big Brother. And you too, Carter.”

  Carter shouted, “Goddamnit, Rain, will you shut the hell up!” He turned to Adam again. “People will see you, they’ll see this car, you’ll be—”

  “We won’t be in this car,” Adam said.

  “What?”

  Adam turned right, down a narrow side street. Took another right and stopped the car beneath a tall rectangular sign: SUREFIRE AUTO BODY—Miracles Overnight.

  “I picked it out of the Yellow Pages,” Adam said. “They’re fast, they’ll do it right away, and my dad won’t know anything about it.”

  Adam talked to a tall, skinny guy in his twenties, tattoos up and down his arms. Told him he had called earlier about the damage done to his car by a drive-by shooter. The guy asked no questions. Gave Adam a 1989 Honda Civic as a leaner and said the Lexus would be ready tomorrow morning.

  “That was amazingly easy,” Carter said as Adam drove them away from the body shop in the Civic.

  “What do you mean?” Adam asked.

  “The guy didn’t ask you about the damage.”

  “I explained it already.”

  “Yeah, but still...isn’t that the law? Don’t they have to report that kind of thing to the police?”