by James Frey
I think this is a beautiful thing, Joe. It’s like something John Wayne would do. And it’s going to be a huge success. I know it is.
Joe speaks.
Thanks, Lemon.
Gimme a hug, man. I want a big hug.
Joe laughs, they hug, Lemonade pats Joe on the back, they separate, they start slowly making their way down the boardwalk. Except for other homeless men and women, almost all of whom are sleeping, and the few who aren’t sleeping are drunk, the boardwalk is deserted. The beach side is lined with streetlights casting wide arcs of yellow fluorescent light, most of the stores, restaurants and stands along the alley side are dark, though a few of the nicer ones have exterior lights on. The boardwalk itself is a long gray silent and unmoving beautifully perfectly quiet like some wide gray line stretching into endless black. Joe and Lemonade stay along the alley side, darting, as quickly as they can, from dark area to dark area. Joe leads and Lemonade stays right behind him. They don’t speak, both are carrying broken pieces of two-by-fours with sharp ugly ends and battered metal garbage can lids. Both are carefully looking for the girl and the three they see a rat disappear into a building, a possum eating from a dumpster, quiet birds asleep in a nest on the branch of a palm, a stray dog wandering, a cat asleep on the stoop of a treatment center, a couple on the beach not homeless not asleep. As they near the stretch of grass where Joe believes the girl and the three will be they move slower, more carefully, they stay in the darkness longer. They head into a small parking lot squeezed between two T-shirt shops sit down next to a rusted camper van. They look towards the grass, where they see moving shadows, voices. Lemonade speaks.
Is that them?
Joe speaks.
Can’t tell.
I think it’s them.
Might be.
They’re gonna run away when they see us.
I doubt it.
I’d run away if I saw us.
They’re mean guys.
We’ll save the girl and get her some help. It’ll be like a fairy tale set on the beach in California. We’ll get her some nice shoes.
Joe chuckles softly, watches the shadows. They move into the light it’s definitely them three men in hoodies and the girl all of them have bottles in one hand cigarettes in the other. Joe looks at Lemonade, speaks.
You were right.
Lemonade smiles, speaks.
It’s gonna be a beautiful night.
Can you whistle?
Like a train.
Joe chuckles again.
Give me one. But not too loud.
It’ll be perfect.
Lemonade puts his fingers in his mouth blows through them and a high, abrasive shriek pierces the night. The girl and the three immediately stop and turn towards Joe and Lemonade who crouch behind the car and wait for their friends. Almost immediately, they hear Ugly Tom and Smoothie yelling and screaming. They turn towards the noise, as do the girl and the three, and they see Tom and Smoothie running up the sand, their clubs in one hand, shields in the other. Joe looks at Lemonade, speaks.
So much for the element of surprise.
Lemonade speaks.
We won’t need it.
Guess we’ll see.
It’s gonna be perfect.
They stand and start walking towards the girl and the three who now see four men with clubs and shields walking towards them. The largest of them looks towards Joe, speaks.
Who the fuck are you guys?
Joe speaks.
We’re here for Beatrice.
The man laughs.
Beatrice?
Joe.
Yeah.
She told you her name was Beatrice?
It’s not?
Man laughs again.
No, it’s not.
The other two laugh, the girl smiles. Ugly Tom, Smoothie, Lemonade and Joe stand in a semicircle around them, all have their clubs raised. Joe looks at the girl.
What’s your name?
She shakes her head.
It doesn’t matter.
Yes it does. What’s your name?
Go away, Old Man.
Joe stares at her.
You need help. We want to help you.
Go away.
Joe stares at her, she looks at the ground and while the three snicker. The largest of them steps forward.
Now that you know you’re not wanted, it’s time for you dumbfucks to go. Joe stares at her, she won’t look at him. Lemonade steps forward.
Young man, this lady is clearly distressed. I’m willing to bet she’s acting under duress. We came here to take her from you and find a better place for her. We will not leave until that goal has been met.
Get the fuck out of here. She’s my bitch to do what I want with, and that ain’t fucking changing.
Joe stares at her, she looks at the ground.
We’re taking her.
Fuck you.
Lemonade starts to step forward, the largest pulls a pistol from his belt.
Lemonade stops. Largest speaks.
You ain’t doing shit, motherfucker.
Lemonade steps back. Ugly Tom and Smoothie immediately turn and start running.
Unless I decide you’re doing it.
The other two laugh, Lemonade and Joe start stepping backwards, Joe speaks.
We’re leaving.
He raises the gun.
We’re leaving.
Cocks it.
Let’s go, Lemon.
Joe and Lemonade drop their clubs and shields and turn and start running away. As Joe runs he turns back he sees the gun raised it’s being aimed. He yells at Lemonade they head for the lot where they were hiding he turns back gun raised, aimed, he hears the shot something like a crack, a pop, a small explosion. He sees the back of Lemonade’s skull disappear. He sees him fall facedown. He stops he’s out of breath, starts back, looks up, the largest is running towards him his gun raised. Joe turns and keeps running he has the body of an old man a very old man he keeps running into the lot through the lot around the edge of a building he stops, looks back. Lemonade is facedown on the edge of the boardwalk. A streetlight flickers above casting an arc of yellow across the lower half of his body. The back of his skull is gone a pool of blood is starting to slowly flow towards the sand, the sea. The largest of them stands over Lemonade with a gun. The other two and the girl walk towards him. Gun fires body jolts gun fires body jolts. Dead already so it doesn’t fucking matter. Gun fires body jolts.
Again.
Again.
Again.
During World War II, defense and aerospace companies set up large-scale manufacturing operations in Los Angeles County in order to produce planes, warships, weapons, and ammunition for use in the Pacific Theater in the war against Japan. By the end of the war, Los Angeles County is the single largest producer of defense and aerospace products in the world.
Amberton, Casey and the kids are in Malibu. Amberton is in one of his moods, a dark mood, a black mood, a profoundly fucking black mood. Their staff, nannies for the kids, a chef, two personal assistants, two housekeepers, are with them. When Amberton is in one of his moods, he tells his assistant, via a note, and the assistant tells the rest of the staff, who follow what are called Amberton’s Mood Rules: try not to be in the same room with Amberton, if you are in a room with him leave as soon as possible, do not look at him, if you do happen to accidentally look at him absolutely do not look him in the eye, do not speak to him, if he speaks to you, look at the floor and respond as quickly and efficiently as possible, no matter what you hear or what you see, do not call the police, fire department or ambulance. The mood can last a day or last a month. There is often no rhyme or reason to its arrival, and there is often no rhyme or reason to its departure. It comes and it goes, stay the fuck out of its way.
This mood, however, this thermonuclear mix of sad, angry, confused emotions, was brought on by Kevin’s refusal, once again, to see or speak to Amberton. At the end of their last meeting, which took place thr
ee weeks ago in the back of an armored SUV Amberton was test-driving, Kevin ended their affair, at least in his eyes, by telling a naked and quivering Amberton, who had just suggested introducing fuzzy animal costumes into their relationship and spending a weekend role-playing in the costumes, that he was done with Amberton and—in his own words—his crazy-ass bullshit. Amberton thought he was joking, and that he saw a flash of excitement in Kevin’s eyes at the mention of the costumes. Kevin got out of the SUV as quickly as he could and, even though he was in a suit and tie, jogged away at a brisk pace.
There has been no contact since, despite between thirty and fifty phone calls a day, multiple office visits (Kevin shut and locked his door and waited Amberton out, once actually sleeping in the office and peeing in a soda bottle) and the delivery of flowers, chocolates, expensive suits and a sports car (all of which were returned) to Kevin’s home. Initially Amberton thought Kevin was back to playing hard-to-get, but realized, after the overnight standoff at his office, that hard-to-get had become never-to-have-again. He spent a day at a spa getting a massage, facial, stone rub, pedicure, manicure and assorted shavings, trimmings and waxings, it didn’t help. He spent a day with three high-paid teenage escorts, it didn’t help. He spent part of a day shopping and bought several hundred thousand dollars’ worth of clothing, jewelry and art it didn’t help. The mood set in, the mood has stayed. After he climbed a tree in their yard and refused, for six hours, to come down, Casey suggested that they go to the beach, where there are no trees to climb. Deprived of some of his more unconventional outlets for the manifestation of his mood, Amberton has settled into a routine involving exercise and food, hair coloring and smashing. When he wakes up, he goes to their home gym for two hours and works out with a personal trainer. When he’s finished, he eats a mammoth breakfast, which he then forces himself to vomit by stuffing his fingers down his throat. After vomiting and brushing his teeth, he has his stylist come over and adjust his hair color, which he has changed, sometimes drastically by going full-head different color, and sometimes more subtly via highlights and streaks, every day for the past week. When his hair is done he walks around the house, causing the staff to panic and flee from whatever room he is entering, and he randomly picks something up, a vase, a television, a small table, a stereo, and he smashes it to bits, usually by throwing it onto the floor as hard as he can (one of the assistants immediately replaces the item after it has been smashed). After smashing, his trainer returns and he works out again, eats again, vomits again.
Today his routine is being broken up by a visit from his agent Gordon, an attorney from the agency, and another attorney who works for Amberton. They’re coming for lunch, which the chef is preparing (sesame-encrusted ahi with uni sashimi and seaweed salad). After his morning workout breakfast and vomit, Amberton has the stylist dye his hair jet-black (serious, for the occasion, very serious), and he spends an hour choosing his shorts and a T-shirt (tight or loose, ribbed or not, crew or V-neck, sleeveless or short sleeves), and he settles on black pleated shorts and a tight, black, ribbed T-shirt with short sleeves. He is sitting by the pool when Gordon and the attorneys arrive, all of them are wearing black suits, cream-colored dress shirts and bright silk ties. He stands shakes each of their hands says hello, they sit, he speaks.
So what now?
Gordon.
How are Casey and the kids?
Who knows, I haven’t seen them in a week or so.
Agency attorney, whose name is Daniel, speaks.
Aren’t they here?
I’m in a mood. When I’m in a mood, they avoid me.
Amberton’s attorney, whose name is David, speaks.
One of your mood moods?
Yes, one of those, David. A mood mood. A deep, depressing, profoundly fucked-up mood where I do stupid things and indulge myself simply because I am rich enough to do it. It’s one of those again.
Gordon.
Can we help in any way?
Amberton.
By telling me why you’re here, eating your meal quickly, and then leaving me to my self-destruction.
Gordon looks at the two attorneys, who both nod to him. He looks back at Amberton, speaks.
I had a disturbing meeting this morning.
Amberton.
With who?
Gordon.
Kevin.
Amberton.
Is he as torn up about this as I am?
Gordon.
In what sense?
Amberton.
When you leave someone you love, it hurts. I know I’m hurting, so I imagine he is as well.
Gordon looks at the attorneys, who both look concerned. Gordon speaks. That’s not exactly how he put it.
Amberton.
What did he say?
Gordon.
That you forced yourself on him and harassed him. Amberton looks shocked, truly and genuinely shocked. That’s not what happened.
Daniel speaks.
Are you acknowledging a relationship with him?
David speaks.
This is all off the record, so technically he’s not acknowledging anything.
Daniel speaks.
Understood.
Amberton.
We fell in love. We pursued that love sexually and emotionally. I don’t think he’s as comfortable or as open with his sexuality as I am with mine, so he ended the relationship. It was a beautiful thing, like the most perfect healthy colorful blooming flower, while it lasted, it was like a flower from heaven. Now it’s like a bomb went off in my heart. I’ll probably never be the same.
Gordon.
I’m not trying to insult you, Amberton, but I think Kevin has a different interpretation of what went on between you.
Amberton.
I don’t believe that. I don’t even think it’s possible.
Gordon looks at Daniel and nods, Daniel opens a briefcase and removes a tape recorder. He sets it on the table. Gordon speaks.
We got a call yesterday afternoon from an attorney representing Kevin, who left the office with all of his files. We met with them this morning. Among other things, many other things, Kevin had this recording of an event that took place while the two of you were together.
He nods at Daniel again, Daniel pushes play, Kevin and Amberton’s voices, though slightly hollow and mixed amongst a small amount of static, can be clearly heard.
Amberton: I want it right now.
Kevin: No.
Amberton: You can’t say no to me.
Kevin: This isn’t right.
Amberton: What isn’t right is you denying me what I want.
Kevin: Please.
Amberton. Right now. The way I like it.
Kevin: And if I don’t?
Amberton: I make a few calls. You lose your job, your mother loses her house, and the future disappears.
Kevin: You wouldn’t do that.
Amberton. I love you, Kevin.
Kevin: Please don’t say that.
Amberton: I love you, Kevin. Please don’t make me hurt you.
Daniel turns off the tape recorder. David shakes his head. Gordon stares at his untouched, but beautiful, sesame-encrusted ahi. Amberton speaks.
Amazing what one can do with technology these days.
Daniel.
Excuse me?
Amberton.
It’s clearly fabricated.
Gordon.
I don’t think so, Amberton.
Amberton.
That wasn’t me.
David.
Let’s not play games here, Amberton.
Amberton.
The only game being played here is the game of extortion.
Gordon.
Please don’t do this to us again, Amberton. Please don’t.
Amberton.
I’m not doing anything.
Gordon.
It’s happened too many times before. We need you to give us authorization to deal with it.
Amberton.
Let me speak to hi
m.
Daniel and David at the same time.
No.
Amberton.
Please, this is just a misunderstanding.
Daniel and David at the same time.
No.
Amberton.
Please.
Gordon.
He’s asking for ten million dollars, Amberton. We think we can get him to eight. Needless to say, if any of the materials he has are made public, it will profoundly damage your career.
Amberton.
I don’t care anymore. I’m ready to give it all up.
Daniel.
Once he comes, some of the others are bound to follow.
David.
They’re all tied up because of the settlement agreements.
Daniel.
The ones you know about.
David.
Yes, the ones I know about.
Gordon.
Amberton, thoughts?
Amberton shakes his head, wipes a tear away. Gordon speaks.
Do you want me to get Casey so we can hear her thoughts on the matter?
Amberton.
No.
Gordon.
Are you giving us authorization to speak with him, to try to settle this?
Amberton.
I wanna see him.
Daniel and David at the same time.
No.
Amberton wipes away tears.
I want to see him.
In 1943, there is a large-scale riot in East Los Angeles when military personnel from local army, navy, and marine bases flood the area looking for Mexican men wearing what are called zoot suits. It is believed the riots began when a man in a zoot suit whistled at the sister of a marine while she walked down a street. Several hundred Mexican men are hospitalized, and three are killed. Two days after the riots are over, the Los Angeles City Council passes a motion banning zoot suits within the Los Angeles city limits.
Dylan and Maddie wait for rain. A week, two, three they wait for rain and it never comes. The weather is always the same: sunny, somewhere in the seventies or low eighties, a soft breeze, day after day the weather is the same, they wait for rain and it never comes. Dylan asks Shaka for a morning off, Shaka tells him to ask Asshole Dan, Dylan asks Asshole Dan who tells him to ask Shaka. Dylan asks Shaka again, Shaka asks him why Dylan tells him he needs to take Maddie to see a doctor Shaka says fine. They take a cab Maddie won’t ride on the moped anymore. They see the building, a nondescript two-story stucco office building, from a block away they see there are protesters at the curb. Maddie looks at Dylan she’s terrified asks him to tell the cabbie to keep going he says no, we have to go, she says please, he says no, we have to go. They pull up to the curb. Protesters with signs surround the car the signs have pictures of dead bloody babies, pictures of doctors with targets around them, pictures of Christ the Almighty, they scream the words murder, killer, death, God, punishment. The cabbie turns around, speaks.
