He said, "So you Chili Palmer, huh, the movie man."
Chili walked up to him eye to eye, almost toe to toe, saying, "I'm Chili Palmer, I'm Ernesto Palmair, I was Chili the Shylock, Chili the Shark, and I'm Chili the Notorious K.M.A."
Sin Russell said, "Shit." He said, "You notorious, huh? What's K.M.A.?"
"Kiss My Ass," Chili said in the man's face, "a name I was given on the street. How can I help you?"
Sin didn't answer, by his look trying to decide if he'd been disrespected.
Chili stared and again moved in on him. "You and I have met before, haven't we? I'm thinking Rikers, waiting on a court appearance?"
Now the man spoke. "I was never at Rikers, ever in my life."
"I know you were at the federal joint upstate, Lompoc," Chili said, "where you met these fellas and put your glee club together, huh? Ropa-Dope, and started a new thing, slam rap, about living inside, doing time."
"Doing what we want in there. Doing numbers like 'White Boy Bitches' and 'Yo White Ass is Mine,' " Sin giving it back to him. "I come for my royalty money."
"Lemme get it straight in my mind," Chili said, "you weren't ever at Rikers?"
"I just told you I wasn't."
"And I was never at Lompoc. But we know how to negotiate, don't we? Work it out where there's a difference of opinion."
"They's only one opinion here counts," Sin said. "Mine."
"How much you say you have coming?"
"What Tommy told me we do, a million six."
"I'll give you three hundred grand."
"You mean three hundred down."
Chili said, "What're we standing here for? Come on," bringing the man in his warmups and homburg to a Naugahyde sofa, a red one Edie said Tommy got on sale.
As soon as they were sitting down Chili offered the man a cigar. Sin took it, put it between his teeth to nip the end off, and Chili said, "Wait," getting out his cigar cutter. He snipped off the tip of the cigar, took it out of Sin's mouth and gave him the snipped end to clamp between his teeth, Sin watching through his shades, holding still. Chili struck a match with his thumbnail and held it to the cigar.
"Puff. That's it, some more. Good, you got it. What you have there is pure Havana, a forty-dollar smoke, man. How is it?"
Sin took the cigar from his mouth to inspect it while Chili lit one for himself, looking over at the Ropa-Dopers watching him, sullen, the shades, the big sloping shoulders . . . Chili saying, "I wish I had a crew like that. I don't mean to rap. I got a problem, Sin. Look at Tommy's accounts payable, you see amounts paid out for insurance, special promotions, what seem like the usual expenses. Then look in his checkbook you see corresponding amounts made out to Tommy or to cash, as withdrawals. Edie says it comes to over a half mil." He turned to her in the doorway, catching the startled look in her eyes. "Isn't that right, a half mil?"
She wouldn't know what he was talking about, but picked up on it right away and said, "At least that much."
"Last week," Chili said, "they wanted another payment. Tommy said he didn't have it. So they leaned on him pretty hard and he came up with three hundred grand. This was two days before they took him out."
Sin Russell looked at his rappers. "You listening?" And said to Chili, "Who's the they we talking about?"
"The Russians."
Sin puffed on his cigar. "What Russians?"
"Russians. Guys with Russian names. Like the one that was found dead in my house."
"You shot him?"
Chili raised his head and blew out a stream of smoke. "You want me to talk about that in front of all these people I don't know?"
"But what you saying, the Russians was working extortion on him."
"I'm gonna have to tell you the truth," Chili said. "Tommy was running a bootleg record business. It's the main reason he put in the recording studio. He'd copy hits, big ones, Madonna, Elton John, the Spice Girls, and sell the boots down in South America at a discount. Made a pile of dough."
Sin Russell was staring at him.
Sin's Ropa-Dopers were staring at him.
Hy Gordon was staring with his mouth open—that kind of expression.
Chili looked around at Edie. "His market was mostly South America, right?"
Edie said, "Yeah, South America," going along. "They put them inside stolen cars a friend of Tommy's was shipping down there."
Beautiful. Count on the widow of a crook coming through.
No one said anything, so Chili picked it up again.
"The Russians found out about it—incidentally, they ship Jeep Cherokees to Russia—and Tommy had to cut 'em in. You understand what I'm saying? There was no way he was going to the cops."
Chili watched Sin thinking about it, looking for holes, saw him about to speak and headed him off.
"I know what you're gonna say. If he made a profit, how did he show it in his records? You don't deposit large amounts of money without the IRS finding out about it. You know what he did?"
Chili glanced at Hy Gordon back there waiting to hear.
"He'd write in the books what he made on a bootleg Madonna CD, for example, as Ropa-Dope profit, or give it to one of his other artists, like Roadkill. That's why, Sin, my friend, you thought you were so hot, Tommy saying you have a mil six coming. He had to pay you royalties like that or he'd blow his scheme. But, see, I don't have to pay you," Chili said, " 'cause I'm not a bootlegger. From now on you're gonna have to take what the records earn; and what I owe you according to the legit books, is the three hundred K I'm offering. The only trouble is, I don't have it. Tommy gave it to the Russians last Saturday. And, he told 'em he wasn't making any more boots, he was out of that business. As much as telling 'em to get fucked. So on the following Monday, while Tommy and I are having lunch, they popped him."
There.
See how that played.
Sin rolled his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, the man thoughtful in his homburg and shades, his designer warmups.
"Say these Russians have it now."
"They use it to run a shylock business. Ready cash, as much as you need to borrow."
"You sure of that."
"I checked it out."
"See, what I find hard to understand, a man they call the Notorious K.M.A., why don't you go get it back yourself?"
"I told you," Chili said, "I don't have a crew," looking over at the Ropa-Dopers. "A bunch of strong young men who don't take any shit from anybody."
"You telling me now I should do it."
"It's your money," Chili said. "If I was to somehow get it back, I'd have to turn around and hand it to you, wouldn't I?"
"I see what you saying."
Sin puffed on his cigar, blew out smoke and puffed on it again.
"Tell me something. Where is it you go, say you want to borrow some money from these people?"
16
* * *
ELAINE DIDN'T LIKE to sit outside, not at the Ivy, not anywhere. They were given that first table on the left, inside, and Elaine said, "You don't want your back to the room, sit next to me."
Chili said that after Get Leo and he came in with a few people he'd get that center table. Now, if he made the reservation, they put him in the back room.
Today was Tuesday.
Elaine said, "Well, if this picture works they'll upgrade you. So now where are we? No, first let's order a drink."
By the time Elaine's scotch and Chili's beer arrived he had gone through: "Monday, Tommy was shot. That night I met Linda. Tuesday, she got in touch with her band. I went to visit Edie Athens, told her she ought to keep the record company and make a movie around it. I'm afraid she wants to star. Wednesday, my picture was in the paper. I come home to find a dead Russian in my living room and I called Darryl Holmes."
"You stayed that night at Linda's."
"That's right, and nothing happened. I heard her music for the first time, and I called you from there, Thursday morning. Friday I came to the studio, showed you the video, left the CD—what do
you think?"
"It's okay."
"That's all?"
"No, I like it, but I'm more into Sinatra. You told me about Joe Loop, Joe and the Russian killed with the same gun. I like that part."
"Also Friday I saw Nicky Carcaterra. Raji was there. I told them to forget about Linda."
"Tell me your exact words."
"I said . . . something about if you threaten her, or attempt to hurt her in any way . . . No, I said, 'If you attempt to do her bodily harm, you'll regret it as long as you live, if that.' "
Elaine said, "The 'if that' doesn't make sense."
"I know, but when I thought of it it sounded familiar."
"It was in Get Lost. Michael says it."
"Shit—you're right, I forgot. While I was there I saw Elliot, the Samoan. I was afraid he was gonna throw me down an elevator shaft, so I told him to call you, set up a time for a test."
"He called and left a number. Jane said he sounded nice."
"I would like to test him, ask him questions on camera, see how he answers."
"You're a psychologist now?"
"I'm not looking for twitches, I ask him a question, I want to hear what he says."
"See if he'll rat on the guy he works for."
"You say 'rat out' now. Yeah, well, he may slip, tell us something. Okay, then later on I met Darryl Holmes surveilling the Russians, and I went in and met this guy named Bulkin."
"Good name. You told me about that. I still can't believe it, but I know you told me."
"I had to see if it was the guy that did Tommy. I know he is, but I can't swear to it."
"You told me about Sin Russell and the rappers."
"Russell."
"You made up that entire story, on the spot?"
"Yeah, but the night before I was talking to a guy in the bar, at the Four Seasons . . ."
"You're not staying with Linda?"
"I was there one night."
"Was she disappointed? I mean when you left."
"Yeah, she wanted me to stay."
"Linda's not your type?"
"Somebody wants to kill me, Elaine. They find out I'm there and come in shooting . . . kill Speedy by mistake. . . . No, anybody who whacks Speedy, it would be on purpose. He's annoying." Chili paused. "But he might have a pretty good story."
"You didn't answer my question."
"No, she isn't my type. Are you coming on to me, Elaine?"
"I'm making conversation."
"When did we ever have to do that? We can talk nonstop any time we want."
"We do, don't we? We never have trouble talking to each other. You know what I've wanted to ask you for the longest? If it broke your heart when Karen ditched you."
"If it broke my heart?"
"You know what I mean. Were you depressed, hurt, pissed off?"
"I was surprised more'n anything else. I got over it. She wants to marry a screenwriter . . . I don't know, maybe she's doing penance, make up for all the tits and ass screamers she did for Harry."
"You think about her?"
"No. Yeah, sometimes, naturally. But not the way you're thinking." They sat on a bench with hips almost touching. Chili turned his head to Elaine. "Your hair's different."
"I had it cut."
"You're wearing makeup."
"When I go out, yeah. You know the only time you and I ever meet is in my office, outside of we might wave to each other at a restaurant."
Chili, still looking at her, started to smile. "You left Universal 'cause they put you in the Ivan Reitman Building."
Elaine said, "Yeah?"
"I think it's funny, that's all. It didn't surprise me 'cause it's something you'd do." The drinks arrived and Chili took a sip of beer. "Anyway I was talking to a guy at the bar . . ."
"At the Four Seasons."
"Yeah—I thought of spending the night at Edie's, she's got all kinds of room. But Derek Stones was there with Tiffany. They got thrown out of their apartment for dropping a TV set on the manager's car, off the balcony."
"That could be a scene."
"It's been done."
"You're right, Pocket Money. But was it Newman dropped the TV set off the balcony or Lee Marvin?"
"I think it was Newman. Anyway, this guy at the bar recognizes me. Terry something with Maverick Records, he was meeting one of their artists, one of the popular girl singers, but didn't say who it was. We talked about movies. He saw Get Leo, said he liked it a lot. The girl he was meeting was late, so it gave me a chance to ask him about the record business. How you promote an artist. Are indie promoters necessary. Do you need a video. He was a nice guy. He happened to mention how a new release by a big star is copied right away and bootlegged, sold everywhere in the world. So I used it talking to Mr. Sin Russell and his Dopers. Sunday, I rested. Fell asleep by the hotel pool reading Spin and Rolling Stone. Linda was rehearsing—I didn't talk to a soul till later on. This chick called, and that night she came to see me."
Elaine said, "This chick?"
RAJI HAD BEEN to Vita's house a few times before, in Venice, two blocks from the Pacific Ocean on a street where the houses were packed together, uppers and lowers. Vita's was an upper. You took the wooden stairs on the side of the house and went into this place was full of pillows. So many pillows on the sofa you had to clear a place to sit down. Pillows on the chairs, pillows on the floor in a pile. Good-looking pillows in stylish colors and prints. He asked her one time why she liked pillows so much. Vita said they gave a place a look of comfort and casual chic. He said yeah, but to get in the bed you had to take all those pillows off first. Vita said it wasn't something he'd ever have to worry about doing. He couldn't understand what this woman's trouble was.
This day, this Sunday afternoon, Raji went up the stairs with his tan Kangol on straight and a different question for Vita. Nothing about pillows. He rang the bell, took hold of the peak of the cap to loosen it on his head and set it snug again, used one finger to push his shades up on his nose. The door opened and here she was.
Vita said, "Uh-oh."
"What you mean, 'uh-oh'? I came by to see you, girl. You looking fine." Raji admiring the pink and orange kimono she was wearing, holding it closed. Raji believing she was buck naked underneath it. Telling her now he'd like to sit down and visit, have a beverage, a nice glass of grapefruit juice with a shot of light rum in it, Vita's specialty. He watched her go out to the kitchen to make the drink, since she wasn't big enough to throw him out. Raji got himself situated among the pillows on the sofa, then stretched his legs out to lay his Lucheses on the coffee table. Looking at the boots he wondered about spurs. He'd been thinking about getting a pair of big western-style spurs; they had a cool sound to them when you walked. Spurs could be a kick. He watched Vita come back in with one drink in her hand and a jay going. She held out the drink for him to take, a cloudy yellow.
"Sit by me."
No, she took the chair at the end of the coffee table, sat in it crossing her legs and tucking the kimono in there under her round thighs.
Raji said, "Look at you being dainty. Like you never hooked your toes 'round a man's neck and let out some screams, liking what he's doing to you."
Vita said, "Honey, you ain't ever gonna feel my toes up there, so don't even imagine it. Sunday, that means you hung over and horny. Why do the two seem to go together?"
"It's how God made us, girl. Give us wanting something that's pleasure to relieve the pain. I ain't looking for pussy, I come by to see how you doing. See if you happy. See what you need since we shut down till I find another chick. What do you hear from Linda?"
"Nothing."
"She putting her rockabilly band back together?" He reached toward Vita. "Lemme have a hit on that."
She had to get up to hand him the joint and sat down again saying, "They already together. They playing Monday night, the Viper Room."
"You joining the group?"
"Linda's got enough voice, she don't need me."
"She say to follow her examp
le, leave the Chicks?"
"We're friends, we don't give each other advice. You want me to tell you what I want, what I really-really want?"
Slipping in Spice Girl lyrics, but making fun of it with her tone of voice.
"Tell me so I'll know."
"Sing backup again. Carry some big-name star, do it whether she knows she's being carried or not, I'd know it."
"You good enough to be on your own."
"If I had a twenty-inch waist and Whitney Houston's instrument, yeah. And you and I wouldn't be talking. I know what I can do and what nobody wants me to do, and they're the same thing."
Raji said, "You don't set your sights high enough's what it is."
"I don't keep hitting my head against a wall, either."
"You have to see what works is what I'm saying, find where your specialty produces the most reward. Only sit and wait when you have to. Timing's the thing. Knowing when to make your move."
She was looking at him funny now.
"You up to something, huh? Got a game working."
Raji said, "You want to play it with me?"
"VITA," CHILI SAID, " one of the Chicks International. She called me—Linda told her where I was—and said she wanted to talk to me, could she come to the hotel."
"She was already talking to you," Elaine said. "Why did she have to see you?"
"I didn't ask. I figured it was something personal she wanted to tell me face to face."
"She wanted to use you. One way or another."
"You don't even know her."
"Go on, what happened?"
The waiter brought menus they laid aside and ordered another drink.
"Vita came up. . . ."
"What do you have, a room or a suite?"
"A suite, one bedroom. Vita comes up, she says Raji came to see her, the former manager."
"The guy," Elaine said, "you think hired Joe Loop, if it wasn't the other guy, Nicky. I'm trying to keep the characters straight in my mind."