If he and Rachel played it right, Sam thought they really could seal phase two of the deal with Leonides tomorrow.
Sam helped himself to a mint from a jar on the bathroom counter. He was hungry as all get out, but dinner could wait until he met up with Rachel. They’d order Chinese from Full House, near their Chinatown motel. Sam would love to see the look on Rachel’s face when she saw the money wired into their account. From there it would be automatically transferred to their Cayman Islands kitty. It didn’t cover what they’d already sunk into the deal, but it was a start.
Sam tinkered with the crown on his faux Rolex. Our schedule is tight, but this could be some easy money after all.
Carlos stuck his head in the bathroom door. “The paperwork is all ready to go, Mr. Capp. Dr. Leonides is headed back to downtown. We can give you a lift.”
“Sounds good.” It was time to wrap up phase one.
Back in the meeting room Leonides was brimming. “You will not regret this, Harris. Take my advice. Put the money in a secret account your soon-to-be-ex can’t get her hands on. Relish these small victories when you can.”
“Mr. Capp,” Sam’s phony lawyer said, handing him a sealed manila envelope. “Your signed agreement.”
“Thanks, Charles.”
Sam liked Steve Masters, the actor playing the part of Charles Fenton, his lawyer. With his graying temples and Brooks Brothers suit, he looked the part. Plus he stayed on script.
“Mr. Fenton,” Leonides’ lawyer said. “Have we met before?” She was a small, older woman who took a shine to Charles during the negotiation.
“It’s possible,” Charles said, smiling easily.
“I’m very good with faces. Especially the handsome ones. I’m certain our paths have crossed.”
“I don’t know about the handsome part,” Charles said. “But at my age, I’ll take it. Maybe you’ve seen me around the Jonathan Club for lunch.”
“Perhaps. It’ll come to me. It always does.”
Sam watched the exchange uncomfortably. Easy money is never easy. Shinika said it had been over seven years since the actor playing his lawyer had been on the soaps. Leonides’ lawyer must have had the hots for him back in the day.
Charles picked up his briefcase. “It’s been a pleasure. Call me if you need me, Harris.”
“At your rates, it might be a while.”
Leonides’ lawyer watched Charles walk out of the meeting room, looking him up and down. “I’ll remember,” she said. “I always do.”
Sam was just choosing what to say to get Leonides to meet with Rachel tomorrow when the doctor quickly turned to him. “I want to meet with Shawnee as soon as possible. She needs to know Joystick to Hell has a new player. The groundwork for what I want needs to be laid now.”
“Your short film has already won her over. Shawnee is a tough critic, so that’s half the battle with her.”
Leonides sucked on his pipe stem, looking pleased. “Marvin mentioned that she’s a monster in the editing room. He also said she knows what she’s doing.”
Good work, Marvin. Too bad you’re getting royally screwed on this whole deal. “That sounds like her, though she does seem more ornery than usual. Her show has already been cancelled so that could have something to do with it.”
“I like that she’s both a TV and a movie person. Partnering with her could be incredibly rewarding.” Leonides drew Sam aside. “Does she have big jugs?”
Sam wanted to deck him. Rachel’s beauty was a tool they’d often used against their marks. That didn’t stop Sam from getting pissed off at them. And Leonides was more gross than most.
“She’s very attractive,” Sam said. “She’s also very smart.”
“Sounds like a challenge. The doctor might have to make a house call.” Leonides laugh was a high-pitched giggle.
Sam realized Leonides was quoting his own short film. I’ve had this guy pegged all along. He’s a horny fourteen-year-old hiding behind money and an MD.
“It’s good to be the doctor,” Sam said. And it’ll be good to take your money, jackass. “You she likes. She’s going to be pissed off at me. Whatever you say, we can’t mention that little accounting problem I told you about.”
“Do you take me for a fool? More unpleasantness won’t help me. Her accountant’s clerical error. That’s your story. I’m going to help her make her movie. She’ll see the advantages of working with me. In the end, she has no choice.”
Sam’s stomach rumbled. He could feel the energy in the room dissipate. Sam knew how to ride the current. It was time to end this. “I’ll call Shawnee tonight. Tell her we’re coming down for a visit.”
“Don’t tell her I’m coming. Tell her you’re bringing a friend. Let’s make it a surprise.”
Perfect. Leonides thought Shawnee was a fan and seeing him show up out of the blue would be a nice surprise. Totally unprofessional move, but Sam guessed that’s the way it happened with Leonides. Sam summed up Leonides’ world view with three words. His. Way. Now.
Rachel marveled at the L.A. traffic. Their budget motel was in Chinatown, downtown adjacent. She could see the freeway filtering cars in and out of L.A.’s ground zero. Even at nine o’clock at night, it was a sea of crawling headlights.
Rachel had stood on countless motel balconies all over America. Sometimes it was a depressing waiting game. It could be lonely if Sam wasn’t around. She wouldn’t deny it, though. She loved it when she was waiting for things to break. Like tonight.
Her phone dinged and she hurried inside. It was another text from Sam.
Leaving Pasadena. Hitching a ride with Carlos. Leonides is set for ten tomorrow. See ya soon.
Sam had Leonides seeing his name in lights. Tomorrow, it was her turn.
Rachel would have Chinese waiting for Sam. They’d go over the game plan one more time. After spending hours in an editing room, watching actors repeat performances until they got it right, Rachel realized what she and Sam did wasn’t all that different from Hollywood. They’d always worked off a script. They’d created characters, given themselves lines. She and Sam always calculated where things might break down, what they might have to say if things went off the rails. They went with the flow. They could teach actors a thing or two about improv.
After Sam came home and they went through their script again, she had something else in mind for him. Since it was Hollywood, she’d let Sam direct her any way he wanted.
Leonides had further business to discuss with his lawyer. “Carlos is going to our downtown office. Why don’t you let him drop you off at your motel?” Leonides lowered his voice. “With this new infusion of cash, you should get yourself a nicer place to stay. I saw some working girls at the bar that you could probably afford now. Pay for two. That’ll clear your head. Doctor’s orders.” Leonides pulled Sam even closer. “I have access to various benzodiazepines and dissociative anesthetics, if you want to make things interesting.”
“I’m not a really a pill guy, doc,” Sam said. “Booze, a little smoke. I stick to the basics.”
“They’re not for you, dum-dum.”
“Oh, right.” Sam wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but it sounded like Leonides was offering his services if Sam wanted to slip something into a woman’s drink. Gross. I’m gonna like taking your money and tearing your dream world apart, creep.
Sam looked at his Rolex. “It’s getting late. I’ll grab a quick bite in Chinatown and hit the sack. I have to be ready to face Shawnee’s wrath. It’s gonna suck.”
“Have it your way,” Leonides said, shrugging. “It’s a new beginning for both of us, Harris. You outmaneuvered Shawnee. She’ll eventually see that she has no choice but to go along with the new order of things. I, for one, cannot wait to meet her.”
You are one deluded dude, Lizard Man. “I’m going to like being in business with you, doctor. You’re going to go far.”
“I will consider your wagon hitched, my friend.”
Sam smiled back. I’m gonna fill my wagon full of your money and hitch it to a 737 flying out of LAX, Doctor Dork.
Carlos and Sam rode the elevator down to the garage together. Sam was anxious to get back to his motel downtown. He had a simple plan for the rest of night. Chow down on Chinese. Plan for tomorrow. Rachel time.
The elevator opened to the bottom floor of the garage. It was empty except for Leonides’ Aston Martin DB11 and a dingy black Buick Skylark. A study in contrasts.
“Is it alright if I ask you a question, Mr. Capp?”
Carlos’ voice startled Sam. “Sure, Carlos. What’s on your mind?”
“It’s just really cool you’re a movie writer. You sold your movie to Dr. Leonides? It’s his now?”
“Not exactly. He optioned it. It’s still mine, but he has the right to buy it before anyone else. He can also use it to raise money to make the movie.”
Carlos ran his thumb through his bushy mustache. “I get it. You’re, like, leasing it to Dr. Leonides. He still has to buy it from you or it don’t get made.”
“That’s right. No me, no movie.” Sam wondered why Carlos was suddenly so talkative. Sam also sensed that Carlos was acting a little nervous. He kept brushing his mustache like it had termites.
“So there’s still time,” Carlos said. He unlocked the driver’s side door.
“Time for what?” Sam asked.
Carlos looked like he was caught off guard. “Time to drop you off and run some more errands for Dr. Leonides,” he said. “He keeps me pretty busy.”
Sam imagined that Leonides would be a bastard to work for. “Don’t sweat it. If you’re running behind I’ll call an Uber.”
“Don’t!” Carlos quickly said. “I mean, I’m going downtown anyway. That’s where most of my work is. I’d get busted if I didn’t do what Dr. Leonides asked.”
Carlos opened the Buick for Sam.
“Have it your way.” Sam climbed in the back of the Buick.
Carlos got behind the wheel. He turned to Sam. “I know I’m being a pain in the ass, Mr. Harris. Can I ask you just one more question?”
“Go for it.” Sam really didn’t mean it, though. He just wanted to chill out, look out the window and watch the night fly by in silence.
“That’s the best-looking Rolex I’ve seen. A Daytona, right?”
“Yep,” Sam said.
“Can I get a closer look?”
Sam was about through being nice. He also didn’t need anyone taking too close a look at his fake Rolex. He’d have to change tact with this guy. “A quick look, all right? Then no more questions. Otherwise I’m taking Uber.”
“I promise, Mr. Harris.”
Sam quickly raised his left wrist to Carlos face. Before he could drop it back down Carlos grabbed his arm and pulled him forward.
“What the hell?” Sam reacted instinctively, swinging at Carlos head with his clenched fist.
Both rear doors opened. A big blond man grabbed Sam’s right arm and pushed him down into the seat. The man coming in from the other side slipped a cloth bag over Sam’s head. Sam panicked as all three men piled on him, pummeling him. Sam felt a sharp sting in the right crook of his arm and he knew he was being injected with something. He screamed but his cries were muffled by the bag.
There was no space in the bag to catch a breath. At least two people were sitting on him. It took every ounce of experience, every layer of hardness, to swallow his fear. Sam stopped struggling, hoping it would give him a chance to suck in some oxygen.
Sam heard the doors close and the engine start. He wondered if Rachel knew where he was right now. He was grateful he’d been texting her, that he’d mentioned he was leaving with Carlos.
The last thing he remembered was the other man’s face, the one who’d slipped the bag over his head. He’d seen it before. A week ago, on the street. It was his left eye. It was like a cue ball. Totally white.
Stanley Ng felt the vibration in his blazer’s hip pocket just as the Baccarat dealer turned over the banker hand. A three and a four. The player hand was a seven and a queen, adding up to eight. Stanley bit his bottom lip. He almost always bet the player hand. Occasionally he bet a tie. His forty large in Lucky Dragon chips was now eighty thousand.
He flipped a black hundred-dollar chip to the dealer. “Buy more of that nail polish, Sandy.”
“Thanks, Mr. Ng.”
He turned to a young Asian man who was suddenly at his side. “Cash me out.”
Stanley took his Johnny Walker rocks and strolled to the bar. As he approached the corner booth the two young men seated there took their drinks and left. The bartender saw Stanley take his seat. He changed the channel on the big screen TV near Stanley’s booth from golf to the All-Girl K-Pop channel.
Stanley smiled when he saw who’d just called him. He immediately called back. “It’s eleven-thirty. You must have been dreaming about me and decided to talk dirty in person.”
“I need your help, Stanley,” Rachel said.
Stanley sat back into the corner of the booth. “Tonight is a lucky night. You called just as I won some big money.”
“Baccarat?”
“Last time I saw you, you brought me big time luck at the same table. Maybe I take you away from Sam and hire you to bring me luck all the time? I’ll pay you to blow on my dice.”
“Baccarat is a card game.”
“The dice printed on my boxers. From Italy. Cashmere.”
“Good to know. I’m calling because I’m worried about Sam.”
Though her voice was calm, Stanley detected an edge. “Talk to Stanley.”
Rachel took a deep breath. “Sam texted me. He’d just had a successful meeting with Leonides. Leonides was giving him a ride back to Chinatown. That was two hours ago.”
“Where were they coming from?”
“Leonides’ lawyer’s office in Pasadena.”
“Why didn’t Sam take Uber? Why would Leonides drive him back? Leonides lives in San Marino. Next to Pasadena.”
“How do you know so much about Leonides?”
“When Marvin told me about the short film, I looked him up. See if he’s worth my time and trouble.”
“Makes sense.”
“Also, it’s possible that someone from the Inspector General’s office gambles at a certain Asian themed Vegas casino. And this important government official likes to brag to the beautiful ladies that work here. Leonides name has come up.”
“You know more than I thought.”
“Yeah. Duh. So why is this dope who thinks he’s the second coming of Steve McQueen driving Sam to Chinatown?”
Rachel checked Sam’s text again. “Okay, I misspoke. Leonides stayed behind at his Lawyer’s office. Carlos drove him.”
“Carlos Lopes?”
“That’s him. Sam says he’s always hanging around, running errands for Leonides.”
“Lopes is very bad news. Gets homeless people off the street and into Leonides’ clinics. Bills Medicare up the ying-yang. ‘Ying-yang’ is not a real Chinese word, by the way.”
“I figured. But Leonides still needs Sam. Why would he hurt him?”
“He wouldn’t. I guess he thinks you and Sam will make all his movie star dreams come true. Unless Sam blew it.”
“No way. Leonides is hooked. And there’s something else.”
“What?”
“I called Sam an hour ago. Someone picked up the phone. A man. I asked if Harris was there. The man mumbled something, laughed, and hung up.”
“What did he mumble? Something dirty? Tell me. I might want to use it later.”
“I couldn’t really tell. I looked for Sam on the Find My app. The phone is somewhere in Pasadena. I drove up there but it was in a fenced-in area. If I had a gun, I guess I would’ve gone in.” Rachel took a breath. “I thought maybe Loto could help, if he’s still in town.”
“It will cost you, Rachel. Another ten percent.”
Stanley l
istened to the silence on the end of the phone. He loved his little cat-and-mouse games, especially when played against intelligent and beautiful women. He rarely lost.
“Haven’t I always brought you good fortune, Stanley? Like tonight? I’m asking for your help. Would you turn your back on a good luck charm?”
Well played, Rachel. Stanley recognized that Rachel posed a wise question. The specter of good luck changing before its time haunted Stanley’s waking moments. Stanley understood the third precept of Wiseman’s fourth rule of luck. Lucky people know that bad luck will eventually turn into good luck. Dialectics dictate the opposite must also be true.
Only a fool would turn his back on good luck. Worse yet, shun the very source of that luck. And he had won with a player hand of eight, a most auspicious number indeed.
The interconnectedness of luck and numbers played out in Stanley’s mind at a speed that would do NASA’s Pleiades Supercomputer proud. His Master’s Degree in Math from Cal Tech pulled him in one direction, while his experience and his gut pulled him in another. The fact that Rachel’s question raised so many other questions, philosophical and pragmatic, warranted he side with her. At least for the moment.
“You get Loto for one day. For five percent. After that, it will cost you another five percent.” Stanley felt he was gouging Rachel, someone he genuinely liked, but he couldn’t help it. Once you start the game, you play it to the end.
“Deal. As long as Loto can start now.”
“Sounds like you may need a delicate scalpel to find Sam. Loto is a hand grenade. Once I unleash Loto, anything can happen. There will be deaths. If Sam comes to harm, I am not responsible. You can agree to that?”
“Okay, Stanley. I agree.” Rachel hung up the phone, hoping she hadn’t just made things horribly worse.
A siren approached, growing louder.
The Down and Out Page 3