"We decided they'd have to go on as Odessa, the way they were advertised on the radio, opening for Aerosmith. The show was sold out, that meant an audience of eighteen thousand plus. And when Odessa went on there must've already been—"
It was Elaine's expression that stopped him, Elaine composed, but looking past him. He turned in his chair to see her assistant, Jane, in the doorway saying, "You can't go in there." But the big Samoan was already in the office, dressed up today in a light-gray suit, white shirt and a bad red tie, holding a baseball bat in his hand, the bat matching his tie.
"Elaine," Chili said, "I'd like you to meet Elliot Wilhelm, the actor I've been telling you about."
ELAINE'S FIRST THOUGHT: tell Jane to call Security. She said to Chili in kind of a hushed voice, "How did he get in here?"
Chili said, "How'd you get in the gate, Elliot?"
"I walked in."
"They didn't try to stop you?"
"They should be coming any time now."
Chili said to Jane, still in the doorway, "It's okay. Tell 'em Mr. Wilhelm was anxious, didn't want to be late for the meeting."
Elaine, after a moment, gave her a nod and Jane stepped back, closing the door.
"Well, you made it," Chili said to Elliot. "Have a seat."
Elliot surprised them. He began twirling the red baseball bat as if it were a drum major's baton, moving to his right, toward the television set to give himself more room.
Elaine looked at Chili. Was this guy serious? But Chili was watching the Samoan doing his twirling act, Elaine thinking now that Elliot Wilhelm, the name, belonged to a character in a l940s film played by Louis Calhern, or maybe Edward Arnold. She couldn't see this Elliot Wilhelm in a movie unless there was a luau in it; though he looked as much light-skinned black as he did Samoan.
He said, "I want to show you I can do this, behave as a nice person, entertain the kids, uh? Or I can be the kind of person gets mad and breaks things," and he did, swung the bat in a backhand motion at the TV set and shattered the screen.
Elaine felt herself jump and was ready to push up from the chair, but Chili raised his hand to her, turned to the Samoan and said, "Elliot, that kind of behavior doesn't work here." Calm as can be.
Elliot said, "I have your attention? Good. You know how long I been waiting to come here, since you first asked me outside the Martini? Two weeks, man."
Chili said, "Has it been that long?" Then turned to Jane, in the doorway again staring at the TV set. Chili told her it was okay, no problem. Then seemed to remember something—Elaine watching him—and said, "You have a copy of Get Leo around, don't you? The script?" Jane looked at Elaine and got an okay before she told Chili yes, they did. Chili said, "Would you bring us one, please? It doesn't have to be the final." Elaine gave Jane a nod and she closed the door.
Elliot said it again, "Two weeks I been waiting."
Chili told him to sit down and behave himself. "You know you're gonna have to pay for the TV set."
Elliot said, "If that's what it cost me to be here."
"We said we were gonna call you."
"Yeah, when?"
Chili said, "If you don't mind my saying, Elliot, I don't like your fuckin attitude one bit."
Elaine held on to the arms of her chair.
"You think Elaine here has nothing to do but try to work you in? Elaine has the final word at this studio. You walk in and smash her TV set. The fuck're you doing, Elliot, carrying around a baseball bat?"
"I keep it in the car."
"Lemme see it."
Elaine watched Elliot come over to hand Chili the bat. He took it by the fat end and told Elliot to sit down. Right in her office, a scene developing.
"This is aluminum."
"Yeah, it's got the extended sweet spot."
"Why didn't you get a Louisville Slugger?"
"I like the red. The Slugger don't come in any colors."
"Somebody picks on Raji you wrap this around the guy's head?"
"No, man, I play ball with it."
Elaine caught his slight grin and was sure Chili did too. He said, "You pitch or catch, Elliot?"
"Mostly pitch."
Jane came in with the Get Leo script in a blue cover. Chili held out his hand and she gave it to him, glancing at Elaine, and left. Chili laid the bat on the desk. He opened the script and turned pages looking for a scene, saying to Elaine:
"Elliot's homosexual."
Elaine said, "oh, really?" with a pleasant enough tone, putting herself in the scene now, no longer just watching.
"He's a switch-hitter," Chili said.
And Elaine said, "Oh," and took another step, asking Elliot, "Do you ever dress in women's clothes?"
"There's nothing very chic in my size," Elliot said. "You ever see Kate Smith? That's who I look like."
"Elliot," Chili said, "is the only gay bodyguard I've ever heard of."
Elliot laughed. "That's all you know. We could start a Big Guy Club we wanted to. It's a good life, hang out, not much to do, 'less you work for a gay guy."
"Is Raji?"
"Naw, he likes that little Asian chick. She's his love slave. Another week he'll have her on the street."
"Why do you work for him?"
"A way to get into show biz."
"But you want to act. He's music."
"I want to act, but it don't mean I can't sing."
"What do you do, 'The Hawaiian War Chant'?"
"See, your problem," Elliot said, "you think I'm stupid. The only reason I don't hit you with that bat, I have to be nice or I don't get the screen test."
Chili said, "You want to raise your eyebrow for Elaine?"
Elliot said, "I ain't doing no more of that eyebrow shit, either. You understand what I'm saying?"
"Fine, just be yourself. I know you're a pretty tough guy," Chili said, "or you wouldn't be a bodyguard. You ever kill anybody?"
Elaine counted six beats.
"Yeah, I did. The first time a man kissed me on the mouth."
"And you threw him out a window."
"You checked on me, huh?"
"Well, shit, Elliot, of course I did. Have you done anybody since?"
"Uh-unh, been clean trying to position myself for my break. See, but where I am now, this Raji is a lost cause. Not doing nothing for me 'less things get changed around."
"You want to move up."
"Way up, if I have to be in management. Something cushy to fall back on I don't make it as a star of stage and screen."
"You sound confident," Elaine said. "Have you done any work in film?"
"Some. I was in Up Your Trail, that porno western? I didn't care for all that heifer sex in it. I was a gay Injun. And then bit parts—joke parts, walk in walk out—in a couple more and I decided that was enough of that porno shit."
"Well, let's see if you're any good," Chili said, and handed Elliot the script. "Page 87, starts right at the top. You're Bo. You hustle anything that pays. You're street but you're self-educated, too. More than anything in the world you want to make movies. At this point in his life Bo deals and runs a limo service. You want, take a few minutes."
"This is Get Leo," Elliot said. "I went to the show three times to see it and watched it three more times at home. This person, man, I know him. Why'd you pick this part for me?"
"You're the guy," Chili said. "Or you could be, with a different tie. Go over, sit on the couch and look at your lines."
Elaine watched him walk away from the desk. She saw Chili watching him and then turn to her and wink, deadpan, looking serious but having fun, and she knew it had nothing to do with Elliot; he was thinking of her. So she winked back, but couldn't do it without smiling a little. They were together in this. She said, "You're a cool guy, Chil. You know it?" And had to smile again as he shrugged, this time serious.
Elliot came back to the desk and sat down. "I'm ready." Chili told him to go ahead and Elliot said, "I'm talking to this guy works for me, setting him straight about who I am. I say to him:
'You know why now and then I drive a limo? 'Cause I like to listen, hear all about the deals and shit happening. Hear who's hot and who's not. What names you can take to the bank this month. Learn what studio exec is on his way out 'cause he pissed on a big producer's script. Learn who the hot agents are, what they're packaging, who's getting two-hundred phone calls a day. Hear the agent tell the actor he's gonna pull out his guns, kill to make the deal, gonna take no fucking prisoners.' "
Elaine watched him close the script, his finger marking the place. He looked right at her as he continued. " 'Weekends, some of the agents and producers and studio execs, they're up in the Malibu hills playing war games with these CO2 guns. Running around in the woods shooting paint bullets at each other. You hear what I'm saying? They talk about how they gonna kill to make a deal. Then they go out and play with toy guns.' " Elliot grinned turning to Chili. " 'Shit, huh? You think I can't manage with people like that? Man, I've done it for real. . . .' "
Elaine watched him fold his hands over the script in his lap and sit back in the chair. She didn't look at Chili, knowing he was waiting for her to speak first.
"The man works for him," Elliot said, "wants to know how many he's done and Bo says to him, 'What's the difference how many? One and you're blooded.' Saying, you do it once you can do it again. That was one of my favorite scenes, 'cause it has truth in it. You know what I'm saying? I know people in the business talk like that."
"Some," Elaine said, paused for only a moment and said, "That was very nice, Elliot. I'd say you hit it on the head. Chil?"
"Yeah, you did good, Elliot. You like that line, 'One and you're blooded,' huh?"
"It's how the man feels."
"You feel the same way? Who was it did Joe Loop, you or Raji?"
Elaine watched him stare at Chili with those dark, deep-set Samoan—or whatever they were— eyes. She counted nine beats this time.
"I'm clean," Elliot said.
More beats, five before Chili said, "Okay, we'll call you for the test," and got up from his chair.
Elliot said, "When?" not moving.
"When your phone rings," Chili said, walking to the door, "and somebody from the studio is calling. Elliot, look at me. It'll happen when it happens."
Elaine said to him, "Next week," and watched him nod to her. Didn't say anything, just gave her a nod. She watched Elliot get up and walk over to Chili to tower over him for a moment before he walked out.
"HE'S NOT BAD," Elaine said.
Chili was seated again. "Yeah, but how do you cast him?"
"As what he is, muscle. Or cast him against type. I thought you liked him."
"I keep thinking he's gonna throw me out a window."
"What floor are you on?"
"Right now I'm holding him off with the screen test. You really want to test him?"
"I'd prefer it to having my office destroyed. You think he killed Joe Loop?" She looked at the baseball bat lying on her desk as Chili said:
"After beating him up with the bat he keeps in his car? No, I don't. Elliot says he's clean and I believe him."
"Why?"
"Because it's safer than not believing him. I think Raji did Joe Loop and Elliot, who isn't anywhere near as stupid as he looks, wants us to know it."
Elaine said, "The bat."
"Leaving it for us," Chili said. "I give it to Darryl, he gives it to forensics and they find Raji all over it, or enough of him, along with traces of Joe Loop on the fat part. This guy Elliot is a schemer. He's got his goals, fall back into management if he doesn't become a star . . ."
"Of stage and screen," Elaine said. "The word 'stage' caught my attention."
"That's how you say it, star of stage and screen."
"And Odessa mounted the stage at the Forum," Elaine said, "with their new name. Which is . . ."
"No, they didn't, they were introduced as Odessa. They had their amps cranked way up, their chops in perfect accord, you might say, and they kicked off their set. They were terrific. Linda did 'Saw You at the Hop,' she did 'Changing of the Guard,' and when it ended she took the mike and told about twelve thousand people—it wasn't full yet—that she had a change to announce. She said on account of there was another band called Odessa, they were changing the name to . . . and she shouts out, 'Linda Moon!' "
Elaine said, "Well, it makes sense. What do you think?"
"Yeah, I like it. Linda thinks it's the only way to go. Linda thinks getting up there in front of thousands of people is also the only way to go. She said it was better than getting high. Speedy reminded her, all those people out there, they came to see Aerosmith, not her. You know what Linda said? 'Not all of 'em.' Speedy turned to me, he said, 'You hear that? It means she's suffering from LSD.' I thought he meant she was tripping. He said, 'No, it stands for Lead Singer Disease. Linda believes she's the show.' "
Elaine said, "He's right, isn't he?"
Chili said, "We'll find out on the tour."
He left right after that to go see Nicky Car.
21
* * *
RAJI STOOD BY THE DOOR to his office, inside the office, listening. Open the door and you were in the reception area of the Car-O-Sell suite. He heard the main door out to the hall where the elevators were open and then heard it close and said Robin, to himself. Left for the day.
Okay. Time to do it.
He opened the door, was about to step into the reception area and stopped quick.
Robin hadn't left. Chili Palmer had come in. There he was standing at Robin's desk talking to her, both of them standing, Robin with her bag ready to go, Robin telling him no, she didn't have any cavities? . . . Then showing her perfect white teeth to the movie man hoping it would lead to her showing him her perfect white ass sometime. Raji closed the door and walked across the office to his all-glass desk thinking, What's he doing here?
Warn Nicky again? Stay away from Linda?
Or talk about something they had going on between them Nicky never mentioned.
Raji turned from the desk and tiptoed—he did, tiptoed in his cowboy boots—back to the door to the reception room, cracked it, peeked out and saw Chili Palmer going into Nicky's office and Robin coming around her desk saying bye as she headed for the main door. Raji heard it open and then close. He closed his door but didn't move, standing there thinking:
You realize . . . Course you do. But then said it again in his head, wanting to hear himself thinking it.
You realize Chili Palmer's gonna be the last person Nicky Car was with alive?
Robin's the one tells the police. Yeah, Mr. Palmer went into Nick's office as I was leaving for the day, at 5:10. Robin being exact about it, 5:10, 5:12, around in there. Good-looking blonde chick with her nose in the air. Right there and he couldn't get close to it. He'd say to her, "You don't know what you're missing." And Robin would say, "You don't either, Ace, and you never will." Stuckup kind of chick.
Okay, now the way it will happen: soon as Chili Palmer walks out, go in the reception part and wait till you hear the elevator. Make sure he's gone, didn't forget something. Check the piece. May as well do that now. Raji pulled Joe Loop's Beretta from his waist beneath his silky loose jacket and racked the slide. Okay, now there was a hollow-point in the gun's throat. He cracked the door an inch. Next, make sure he heard Chili Palmer leave. Then walk in the office. How you doing, Nick? About to get it done after thinking of all different ways to do it, like:
Make it look like a carjack and pop him.
Wait in the parking garage for him to come.
Wait for him in the bushes by his girlfriend's house. Couldn't do it at his house in Bel Air, too much security around.
Shit, walk in there and do it. What he'd finally decided this morning sitting at his glass desk looking through it at his boots—he'd got rid of the fuckin spurs that kept catching in his pants cuffs—go in there after Robin leaves and shoot the motherfucker. Now he'd go in after Chili Palmer leaves.
Yeah, but what was Chili Palmer doing in there?
"Believe me, this chick is hard rock, she's blues, and she can deliver a twang. You hear her play, man, she combines Malcolm's rhythm chords with Angus Young's simple blues-based lead, sticks it in a blender, with her voice, her personality, and it comes out AC/DC meets Patsy Cline. . . . I'm serious, my brother. . . . How far out realistically? Six weeks. Linda's gonna do a regional tour, down to San Diego and up to the Bay area before I break her nationally. Linda Moon, bro. You're gonna be playing her before you know it. . . . Yeah, I'm sending you a single and I will be talking at you. Ciao."
Chili said to him, "What's the six weeks?"
"Before she's ready to expose herself, and I'm being kind by six months to a year. I listened to the CD Hy sent and to me it's like a treatment, a direction—here's where we're going—and now we fill it in, make it something new but at the same time recognizably commercial. What you need is another serious mix. I push it the way it is, the record'll get some nods, yeah, it's pretty good stuff, slightly different, but you won't get the buzz you need—hey, shit, this jam reaches out and moves you. You know what I'm saying?"
"The record," Chili said, "needs to be remixed."
"And the reason is," Nicky said, "it's more likely to stiff than get anywhere near the charts. Actually, that's prob'ly the case even if you do color it up. Most albums, and I mean like sixty-five, seventy percent, sell less'n a thousand copies each. Three percent of the albums released account for three quarters of the total sales. What do you think Linda's chances are?"
"She can sing," Chili said.
"Yeah? So can those chicks singing about furniture stores and soap powder; they have better voices, more range, than most of the broads with platinum records, but who are they? All they have is a voice, and that doesn't mean shit in the music business. You want me to try and sell Linda? Do a remix. You talk to her about it?"
"Not yet."
"Don't. Just fix it."
"I can't do that."
" 'Cause you're not actually in the business. You think you are, you got one foot in. But you're not dedicated to making it happen. You go for the green, Chil, like in any business enterprise. I'll say it again, how well the chick sings has nothing to do with it. If she's good that's icing on the cake, but what you're selling is the cake, the whole thing, all the ingredients mixed together." Nicky put on a surprised look with a smile. "That's the first time I ever thought of it that way. It's not a bad analogy, is it? The mixing of the ingredients."
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