Mama’s Gone

by Leopold Borstinski

  “Bobby, I want you to keep an eye on our heroin trade. The last thing we need is for that to turn to shit while we‘re growing new shoots near Burbank.”

  “Sure. Just don‘t push me out of the story.”

  “I won‘t. Only we mustn't take our eyes off the ball. We‘ll all share the prizes.”

  He nodded consent although Mary Lou hadn‘t asked his permission. This was her show and she was running it. The two had found a way of sharing a bed together while she wore the pants outside the bedroom. It helped that she was a successful bank robber and he was a washed-up mob killer. Both Mary Lou and Bobby had pasts they couldn‘t forget or escape from - no matter how hard they tried.

  “The next week will be crucial. We need to deal firmly with any objections we may encounter. Better to put them in the morgue than leave some hopped-up hippie to complain we‘re stomping all over his territory.”

  “I‘ll take care of incidentals.”

  Bobby inhaled deeply and stubbed out the remains of his smoke. Despite what he told himself, he still enjoyed killing people and Mary Lou got it. So did Milton, who always showed him the utmost respect - no matter what the circumstances.

  “Once we‘ve established a toe-hold, we‘ll need a couple of girls to keep the good times rolling and to make sure our new friends buy their gear from us, of course.”

  “It‘ll be my pleasure to run that end of things.”

  “Just remember we don‘t care how much hooch our girls drink or how many lines go up their noses. But their job is to get the guests to buy our product and to do whatever they are asked. They can‘t say no to any request, no matter how debauched: church girls travel home in body bags. Capiche?”

  “Understood. I‘ve run this racket before. I‘ll be on top of it all.”

  “Are there any you won‘t be road testing?”

  Bobby laughed and raised an eyebrow.

  “Not unless they‘re under sixteen. I don‘t judge our customers but I won‘t fuck kids.”

  “A true gentleman.”

  “Let’s get back to business.”

  4

  FRIDAY WAS THE first chance to put the operation into practice. Fabio‘s people and product were in the right hands at the correct location as an all-night party was in prospect. Hank Milana was celebrating the wrap on his latest offering: a gritty portrayal of New York street life shot on a back lot in Burbank.

  Independently financed, its executive producer had returned to Manhattan, which meant Hank was in charge of the festivities. Lucky for him, Milton was on hand to keep the booze flowing and the lines cut, ready for snorting. He was a natural.

  Although Hank balked at the initial price asked for the snow, he relented after two free samples. The deal duly sealed, the guests were able to enjoy themselves the way only young acting egos can. Milton watched the action from afar - never mix business with pleasure. And despite his base desires and the writhing mass of naked bodies before him, he did not partake.

  Don‘t get high on your own supply, for sure. Don‘t ball your own ass when someone else is paying the bill. Watch, enjoy and learn what you can about your customer and their friends. That way, there‘ll always be another party.

  He lost track of where his two hostesses had got to about an hour before, but Milton could be sure everything was fine because his eyes never left Hank. And if that man was happy then Milton was happy too. He saw Hank was happy because the artiste was snorting a line off the bare ass sticking up from a couch. The wink was a clue and the bear hug made him certain.

  A glance at his watch told Milton it was four in the morning. He yawned and stretched his back to get more comfortable in his chair. With no notice, a woman fell on his lap, rolled off and danced in between his legs. Her bush was at head height and the only thing she wore was a smile. Milton kept his professional cool and tried to look past her rhythmic hips and maintain his vigil on Hank.

  Each time he regained a line of sight, she moved so that her pubes were the only things he could see. He placed a palm on each hip to stop her movements, but she misread his actions and pushed herself into his face. This was one horny hippie.

  Milton shrugged, stood up and took her by the hand. He walked up to Hank who was lying on a bean bag with someone‘s lips around his dick.

  “Adam, meet Eve.”

  He positioned the woman so Hank‘s mouth was six inches below her navel. As he turned back to his chair, Milton saw the two had managed to work something out.

  “The things we do for money...”

  DOWN THE ROAD, a month later, Mary Lou and Bobby contemplated the expanse of a faded hotel on Sunset Boulevard. The realtor busied around them so he was desperate to get the property off his books. They did their best to ignore him and concentrate on the potential of the crumbling beauty rusting and aching under their feet.

  Mary Lou‘s idea was simple but brilliant. If you own the venue where the exclusive gatherings take place then you don‘t have to worry about finding the next party: the soiree comes to you and you control everything that you pay for within a known environment. Besides, spending dough on a heap on Sunset Boulevard could only increase the value of the real-estate. Whatever happens, they win.

  Soon they supplied cocaine to four parties a week, although Mary Lou viewed this as just one tip of the snow-capped iceberg. The hotel was big enough for them to run five or six separate events at the same time - but that was way into the future.

  For now, they‘d renovate the first floor with its ballroom: convert into an amazing party space and a reception area and restaurant, which could become an enormous bar and chill out zone. Security in the grounds and scrutiny of all who entered the Palace would mark out the venue as the number one location for the cognoscente.

  Mary Lou gouged the realtor on price and two weeks later, the venue was theirs. One month of intense building activity supervised by Bobby and the former hotel was ready for business. By throwing an incredible quantity of men at the problem, Bobby had fit out the first floor - and converted the second into a series of offices and, what he liked to call, relaxation rooms.

  Stood in one of these boudoirs, Mary Lou wondered why he had bothered. He smiled and led her to a clock hanging on the wall.

  “Look right in the center of the dial.”

  His finger pointed to a black piece of glass. She was none the wiser, so Bobby took her out of the room and into the corridor.

  “Notice anything different from when we were first here?”

  “The cockroaches are gone?”

  “Yes, but there‘s something else: the rooms are smaller. Look.”

  He took her from one room to the next, dragging her first to one wall and then off to the adjoining surface in the next chamber. Eventually, she saw it.

  “Why have you thickened the walls?”

  “To make a hidden corridor. That way we can move around the place without being seen.”

  “And what‘s that got to do with the clocks?”

  “We‘ve hooked up a cine-camera for each room.”

  Mary Lou smiled, but let Bobby carry on his explanation.

  “We‘re getting the famous or the nearly famous in our orbit. But in a while, the powerful and the influential will want a piece of our action. Then we might find it useful to have an edge if you see what I mean.”

  SENATOR TEDDY PRESCOTT enjoyed the high life and the various perks offered him as a representative of the Californian people. He split his time between Washington and Los Angeles. Like so many Americans, movie stars were magical superheroes to him and he grabbed every opportunity to mix in their circles.

  As a Republican, he fought a hard campaign on a pro-guns and anti-tax ticket. The right to bear arms against the British without paying for the privilege proved irresistible to voters and he won by a wide margin. This was back in 1970 when Sharon Tate's killers were still unknown and Vietnam continued to rage.

  With a beautiful blond wife and two extraordinary children, the Prescotts were a wholesome group
, projecting the family values electors liked to see. Five months after they opened the Palace, Milton called Bobby around six in the morning with news about Senator Prescott.

  “We have a situation and need you to deal.”

  “Can it wait a couple of hours?”

  “No. You better come over as soon as you've got your pants on.”

  “Understood.”

  BOBBY STOOD AT the fisheye lens staring in at the room. He watched and waited, with Milton hovering next to him. After three minutes doing nothing, he stepped out of the hidden corridor and entered the scene of the crime.

  “Hello Teddy.”

  The senator sat on the edge of the bed, a towel covering his lap. Milton made sure no-one had offered him any clothes to wear. Best to keep him feeling exposed and vulnerable until Bobby arrived.

  “Can you remember what happened here?”

  His hand indicated the bloody mess lying on the floor on the other side of the bed.

  “We were fooling around and everything was fine. I don't...”

  Bobby walked round and picked up a beer bottle, holding it upside down, so red dripped off the neck and onto the wooden flooring.

  “Looks like you were partying quite hard.”

  Prescott's eyes glanced at the bottle and tears welled up inside him. Bobby placed the object between Prescott's feet so he couldn't avoid its reality. The blood followed its natural course downwards and dribbled over the whole surface of the glass and onto the floorboards.

  Then Bobby returned to the body and knelt down to study it more closely. The girl lay face up, arms by her ears. Bruises around her neck, shoulders and head. And a tremendous amount of scarlet over her groin. There was no way to tell if she'd been unconscious when she died or if she'd struggled against the monster until the end. All her clothes were strewn over the floor and Teddy's were folded neatly on a pile on a chair. Bobby noticed the mirror and razor blade on the bedside table, but there were almost no crumbs of powder visible.

  “She's in quite a mess, Teddy. She disrespect you?”

  “No, not at all. Lizzie was a wonderful girl.”

  ”Then what went wrong?”

  Prescott looked up at Bobby with a quizzical expression. A shrug and more tears.

  “You have nothing to worry about. I am here because I want to help you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We will tidy up this room first after you've gone. It'll be like she never was here. That you were never in her bed and that you two were never together.”

  Teddy's body juddered as he turned his head to glance at Lizzie one more time. The towel on his lap fell to the ground and Bobby walked away. Once he'd closed the door behind him, he instructed Milton to give him the film from the camera.

  “What do you want me to do with Teddy?”

  “Set Prescott free and get Fabio's cleaner in as soon as possible.”

  “Okay.”

  “And next week, pay Teddy a visit and ask for a donation for the girl's funeral.”

  “Funeral?”

  “I want you to remind him of what happened and that we have not forgotten. There'll be no funeral. You know better than that. Dump her body in the desert.”

  “She'd been with us from the start. Great piece of ass, popular with the guests and sure could get them to pay for snow.”

  “Thanks for the eulogy.”

  Beat.

  “He needs to be out of here in the next thirty minutes. She needs to be gone by lunchtime. Discretion is key in these situations right?”

  “You betcha. By the time the rest of the guests wake up, this will be just a bad memory for Teddy.”

  “Damn straight. And sorry if I was grouchy when you called. Don't like being woken up in the middle of the night.”

  “De nada. I figured some things are more important than sleep.”

  “Say that again. What was Prescott doing, the fucked up whack job?”

  “I've told you, Bobby: I don't judge. Some behavior goes on under this roof, you wouldn't believe. The depravity I've seen...”

  “I can only imagine - and that's good enough for me. You keep the cine-reels, though?”

  “Some of them might be sickos, but I'm not stupid. Of course I do.”

  “Good man.”

  BOBBY VISITED PRESCOTT at the family home a week before Thanksgiving. The place stood in vast private grounds in Malibu. Tailored lawns and adobe-style buildings. A butler answered the door and led him into the library. He settled into a brown leather chair and made himself comfortable.

  When Teddy Prescott entered the room and saw Bobby lounging near his books, he almost popped a blood vessel.

  “What are you doing here? Our business was finished a long time ago.”

  He remained seated and beckoned for Teddy to join him. The man wasn't used to mortals acting this way in his own home.

  “I'm pleased to see you again too, Teddy.”

  Beat.

  “From what I hear, you haven't fucked any underage girls with any bottles lately. Or hasn't word spread fast enough yet?”

  Bobby removed an imaginary piece of fluff from his knee. Mainly to give the senator a minute to collect himself. Prescott slumped on a nearby stool.

  “There was no need to send me the film of my actions. I regret what I did in a moment of... passion and I paid handsomely so the child could be taken care of properly.”

  “Save the protestations for the voters. Or your wife.”

  Teddy's eyes flitted at the closed library door and back to Bobby.

  “I am not here to chat about the past. What's done is done and I'm not in the mood for nostalgia. Let's talk about our future.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are a powerful man, an honorable man. A man of influence - in California and other states like, say, Nevada.”

  “So?“

  “My wife and I are about to take over a casino in Las Vegas and we don't want any trouble from the Gaming Commission. You can help us.”

  The blood drained from Prescott's face and he glanced at the door again.

  “Before we talk turkey, why don't you offer me a beer...”

  1994

  5

  THE TWINS CAME home from their very separate schools and OJ Simpson stood trial for murdering his wife. While the latter fact consumed the nation, Mary Lou couldn‘t wait for her babies to return to the nest.

  Bobby drove to collect Alice from Berkeley while Frank made his own way back from San Diego State. The boy only carried a suitcase and a backpack. She filled the car and trailer to the brim. Thanks to good packing by Bobby, there was just sufficient space left for two people to squeeze in between the boxes, bags and cases.

  “What have you got in here?”

  “My life.”

  He nodded, shrugged and set off for Palm Springs. On arrival, Alice threw herself into Mary Lou‘s arms.

  “Mama, so good to see you. I‘ve a thousand things to tell you about.”

  “And it‘s great to have you back, but Frank‘s home too. Arrived an hour ago...”

  Alice took her attention off her mother‘s face and glanced round the hallway. A case and backpack lay in a heap near the kitchen door. Her gaze floated into the living room until the sprawling mess of her brother filled her vision. He blinked acknowledgement in her general direction and she offered a half-smile in return.

  Mama led her onto the family couch and continued to hold her hand while Frank carried on with his tales of school. The anecdotes were tedious and, at least twice, Alice reckoned he was making it up as he conjured up a mix of urban myths and other people‘s experiences. She couldn‘t bring herself to imagine him studying, going to lectures or doing anything which might involve effort. In her head, she‘d wondered how the hell he‘d graduated at all. At her darkest how, she even thought Mama had paid San Diego State to get him through at all.

  At that same dark moment, a flush of pride filled Alice‘s heart because her degree had been earned through hard
work, commitment and deep resolve. And it was a better school too.

  She waited patiently until Frank ran out of steam. She knew Mama did not approve of interrupting her firstborn male child. Alice‘s four extra minutes on this planet counted for nothing.

  All this time, Bobby sat silent in an easy chair. He‘d been a member of this family for over twenty years, but sometimes he didn‘t feel a part of it at all. This afternoon was one of those moments. Before Alice could get into the full swing of her story, Irma appeared from the kitchen with a tray piled high with coffee and cookies.

  Even though she was only the housekeeper, she kept a special place in her heart for those two bundles of joy. Not that they hadn‘t caused their poor mother grief over the years, especially the boy. He was a tearaway when he was a teenager - not much better now, only he had more money to get himself out of trouble without Mrs. Lagotti having to step in and save his scrawny ass.

  TWO DAYS LATER, Frank grabbed his things, kissed Mama on the forehead and told her he was off to New York for a while. Mary Lou offered to drive him to the airport but he declined.

  “I don’t like long goodbyes and you’ll cry if you take me there.”

  After the taxi whisked him away, his mom sobbed. Once her eyes had dried out, she walked through the conservatory and onto the patio. Alice was floating on a lilo in the middle of the pool, so Mary Lou sat on a sun lounger and watched her darling daughter soak in the rays.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Lie here until dinner. Dunno.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Frank’s just left.”

  “He’ll be back.”

  “For New York.”

  “Oh. That boy sure has a mind of his own.”