Casanegra

by Blair Underwood

  He smiled at her, considering. “Maybe I will. Let me grab my coffee…”

  April and I had a half-second to share a gaze. Her eyes were dancing, and I tried to warn her to keep cool. I pointed at my chest:Let me do the talking.

  “I relate to you on that Afrodite problem,” Greene said with a sigh, collapsing into the seat at our table. He held up his mug, motioning the waiter for a refill. “I’m caught up in that, too. I was shooting a movie with her, then she pulls out…” He sounded tired.

  I nudged. “I might have heard something about that. You’d already commenced principal photography…?”

  “We were in themiddle of the fucking shoot,” Greene said, now animated, leaning toward me with both elbows on the table. He wanted to unload. “You talk about blood pressure? Every time I think about it…” He shook his head, sighing so hard that my napkin billowed. “Then she goes and dies.Millions up in smoke.”

  “You don’t have any recourse? We’re thinking about suing.”

  “You gotta do it. You gotta do the lawyers and the paperwork and the bullshit, but in the end, what’s the difference? Dead is dead. The movie’s gone. Do what you can, but kiss it good-bye.”

  So far, Stan Greene wasn’t talking like a man who had killed Serena Johnston. If I’d been Serena’s killer, I would have ignored the conversation at the neighboring table. Or I would have been afraid we were cops and gotten up to leave.

  “Can you recommend a good lawyer?” I said.

  Greene grinned, reached into his wallet and pulled out his business card. “What the hell? Call me next week. We’ll do a class-action suit against that fucking company.” He winked. “No, seriously, I’ll send you some names.”

  “Afrodite’s lawyer is a prick. Jim Marino?” I said.

  “A Grade-A prick,” Greene agreed. “Biggs is a prick, too, but at least he was a prick who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. Casanegra was always a bunch of monkeys running the zoo. What a fucking headache, trying to work with those people. I could tell you stories…”

  I almost flinched at themonkeys running the zoo andthose people comments. April was only lucky Greene wasn’t looking in her direction when her eyebrows shot up. I nudged her foot under the table, gently. She snapped back into character.

  “I’d love to hear a story,” April said, her eyes eager and dewy.

  Good girl again.Greene glanced at his watch. His knee was bouncing up and down beneath the table. He knew he should go, but he wanted to share. We had him.

  “You want a story? On the set, she starts making up her own shit,” Greene said. “She’s not telling the screenwriter, ‘Hey, let’s do it this way,’ like most divas who can’t act worth a fuck anyway. No, instead she’s making shit up out of thin air. ThenI’m the bad guy when I ask her what the fuck she’s doing. She turns the cast against me, so I’ve got a full-blown mutiny. Not only that, I’m like scared for my life.”

  My heart skipped. “What do you mean?” I said.

  Greene shrugged. “Listen, I’m no pussy. I grew up in Brooklyn, so I’m not shy. But have you ever worked with these rappers? M.C. Glazer’s a classic example: He shows up like he’s king of the jungle with this entourage. So when Afrodite comes to the set, it’s not just her—it’s her crazy sister, it’s her maniac bodyguard…”

  “Her sister?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Looks just like Afrodite, except out of her mind. Crazy temper. She’s in my face asking for a part every five minutes—forget that she’s never had an acting lesson. She’s just a body double, and damn lucky to be that, but she’s delaying the shoot with her bitching. She’s relentless.”

  Tyra told me she hadn’t seen Serena in four months, and Serena had been shootingUptown Moves sixty days ago. Another lie. Serena had thrown her sister a mighty big bone by getting her work as a body double on a feature film—so why hadn’t Tyra mentioned that when we talked to her? Tyra definitely knew how to use her resemblance to her famous sister to every advantage.

  “How was her bodyguard a maniac?” I said.

  “He threatened me,” Greene said. The rage in Greene’s bouncing leg flashed in his eyes. “On my own fucking set, he’s got me up against the wall like I’m his jailhouse bitch, trying to tell me how to run my movie. AndI’m supposed to be a gangster because of how I did business in Vegas? This shit he’s pulling is right out of a rap video.”

  Greene lowered his voice. “One day this guy flashes a fucking piece at me, likeHey, you better do what Afrodite says —and when I tell him I’ll call the police, he laughs and shows me his badge. He’s acop. M.C. Glazer waved a big check under my nose to do this video, but I’m done after this. I’m too old for this hip-hop bullshit.”

  April and I both made sounds to show him how shocked we were, and I don’t think either of us was acting. It hadn’t occurred to me that Jenk had been on Serena’s set. Could that be why Tyra hadn’t mentioned the shoot?

  “Wait—I think I met that guy,” I said. “Glasses? Named…Jenk?”

  “That’s the asshole. I should get his full name and report him.”

  I decided not to mention that Jenk was dead. If we were just back from Tokyo, we wouldn’t have heard about his death. Greene hadn’t either, apparently. Or he wanted me tothink he hadn’t.

  “Did Afrodite threaten you, too?” I said.

  “Afrodite? That’s not her style,” Greene said, and I felt relieved to hear a depiction of Serena I recognized. “Her spiel is how she’s so embarrassed, apologizing for their behavior, yada yada. Then why bring them on the set? And after I’m threatened and harassed by Afrodite’s fucking entourage, she has the balls to start screaming about creative differences and quit. She’s as big a nutcase as her sister. Not only that, but when she turns up dead, Biggs goes around saying I did it. Fuckingprick. Now I’ve got fucking newspaper reporters calling me like I’m a suspect.”

  “That’s regrettable,” I said, my mind spinning. April, thankfully, stayed quiet.

  “Sorry to talk your ear off, but I’ve had it,” Greene said, scooting his chair back. He held up his check to the waiter. “Who’s the first person I see this morning? Afrodite’s sister. A daily reminder of my living nightmare. Take my advice: Go after what they owe you—business is business. If people look at you cockeyed and call you names, fuck ’em. But after it’s over, stay away from rappers. I’m gonna go do my job and get this piece of tits-and-ass in the can, but then I’m gonna kick M.C. Glazer out of my beach house and move on with my life.”

  “How did M.C. Glazer end up in your beach house?” I said casually.

  “I’ve got a great place in Laguna Beach I never have time for, so I said he could hang out for a while. Guess how long he’s been there? A fuckingmonth. I just heard Afrodite’s sister tell somebody there’s a party at the beach house next week. I’ll need a fucking SWAT team to get him out.”

  I knew it then and there: Greene didn’t kill Serena. And if M.C. Glazer had anything to do with it, Greene probably didn’t know. Greene wasn’t a part of M.C. Glazer’s inner circle; he was only a hired hand. Greene might have been mad enough to kill Jenk after their confrontation, but instinct told me it wasn’t likely. Greene would never function in the business world if he had a habit of killing everyone who threatened or pissed him off. But Serena and Jenk were both dead, and Tyra knew something about it. I was sure of it.

  “Welcome to Hollywood. Hell of a town, ain’t it?” Greene said.

  As the waitress signed his bill, we thanked him for his advice, gushing about how generous he was with his time. After Greene excused himself, April and I held hands under the table, silently congratulating ourselves. The restaurant had filled up around us, but we’d hardly noticed.

  Breakfast with Stan Greene would be the best part of what was very nearly my last day on Earth.

  EIGHTEEN

  BY TWO O’CLOCK, APRIL AND Ihad almost lost hope of a lunch break for the video cast and crew, and Tyra had never been out of M.C. Glazer’s sight. If I had to li
sten to the thumping bassline for “Pimpin’ Paradise” another minute, I was afraid I would storm the set and bitch-slap all of them, just so I wouldn’t have to hear that song again.

  Tyra’s role in the video was a major coup for her: She shadowed Glazer’s every move, throwing herself at him only to be cast aside again and again. At one point, Tyra was on her knees as if performing fellatio, but her face was far enough from his zipper that it might actually fly on MTV. Tyra was an uncoordinated dancer, stumbling through the shots, but all Glaze needed was her face.

  In every conceivable way, it was torture to watch.

  Finally, the music went silent.

  “Damn. That was just starting to grow on me,” April muttered. She was halfway through a Sudoku puzzle she’d found in one of the room’s tourist magazines.

  I found Greene with my binoculars, and he was signaling for a break. Quickly, I looked for Tyra: She was slipping into a terrycloth robe, talking to one of the other girls. Having the time of her life.

  M.C. Glazer was walking back into the hotel, flanked by a flock of assistants and two large security guards I didn’t recognize. Glaze never paid any attention to Tyra when the cameras weren’t rolling, not even for polite conversation. So far, I hadn’t seen Lorenzo and DeFranco, and I was glad. I watched Glaze until he was out of sight.

  Tyra stayed by the pool, giving a harried waitress her drink order. It must have been ninety degrees outside and she didn’t need a tan, but Tyra Johnston wanted to stay outside and be the center of attention. Other hotel guests were staring from their patios, too; mostly teenagers.That looks just like Afrodite!

  “Glaze is finally gone,” I told April. I’d packed up my suit in favor of a faded T-shirt and surfing shorts so I wouldn’t stand out any more than I needed to. “I have to go down and talk to her somehow.”

  April looked disappointed. “Maybe we can use Greene to—”

  “No, I have to do this alone. Sorry. If you don’t hear from me within a couple of hours, call the police. And thanks, April. You did great this morning.” As I kissed her lightly, a thought emerged:You may never see this woman again. It felt like a premonition. “We make a good team.”

  “Yeah, we do,” she said, smiling. Then, her smile faded. “Be careful, Ten.”

  “I will. Go to our spa or something. Get a massage for me.”

  “I might have to, or I’ll sit in the room and worry.”

  I sent April out of the room with our bag first, so no one would see us together if Glaze happened to be in my wing. After two minutes, I slipped out, too.

  No hotel stay is complete without a visit to the pool.

  Tyra had reclined in a lounge chair since I’d seen her last, surrounded by envious dancers hanging on her every word about how to make it in show business. I watched her from the wings twenty yards away, beneath the cover of a palm tree.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but this pool is closed.” A woman’s voice.

  When I turned around to look at the blond-haired waitress, she seemed startled, as if she knew me. The Face, I realized. AMalibu High fan, maybe; a favorite show during her formative years. Everything helps.

  The waitress’s name tag said her name wasDONNA . She was about twenty-one, with bobbed hair and a lightly freckled nose on a sun-browned face. She was cute, but I was more inspired by the mimosas on her drink tray. I didn’t want to go near Tyra out in the open, but perhaps I could lure Tyra closer to me.

  “Donna, where’s the nearest ladies room?” I asked, ultrapolite.

  Donna smiled when I called her by name, but she gave me a puzzled look. “The restrooms are right behind you.” She pointed. “That way and to the right.”

  I glanced back at Tyra again; I was in the middle of her path to the bathroom.

  “You see that woman in white over there?” I said, nodding toward Tyra.

  Donna tried not to show too much, but her jaw clenched. “What about her?”

  “She’s my sister, and I want to play a joke on her. But I need your help, and it’ll definitely cost you your tip. How does fifty bucks sound?”

  Donna smiled. “It sounds hilarious already. Let’s hear it.”

  “A waitress walks by and ‘accidentally’ spills a drink on the woman in question. Ha, ha. Get it?”

  Donna frowned. “That’s not as funny as I thought.”

  I found two more fifties. “Funnier now?”

  Donna sighed, but she took the money. “Hysterical. But I’m not getting chewed out by my boss for you—I’m doing this for me,” she said. “No offense, but your sister is the biggest bitch I’ve ever met.”

  “Makes two of us. Just do it fast, before the cameras start rolling.”

  Donna’s smile turned flirtatious; we shared a secret now. “Now I’m glad I never had a brother,” she said.

  “I’m just glad I never had you for a sister,” I said, my eyes roaming across her compact, well-toned body. I gave Donna my signature grin and wink, and blood colored her cheeks. Donna would do a good job.

  Although I was hiding in shadows, I don’t think it occurred to her that I might not be Tyra’s brother. People have a hard time believing that someone they find attractive is capable of doing wrong.

  I knew Donna’s mission was accomplished when I heard a shriek from the patio. The hurricane of expletives began as Tyra leaped to her feet. I winced, feeling for Donna. I wished I had told her to duck.

  “…Oh, HELL NO, BITCH, you did NOT just spill that shit on ME!”

  Onlookers gasped as Serena’s look-alike took a wild swing at Donna, but Donna was alert and quick, sidestepping the blow with her empty tray raised as a shield. Donna’s reflexes made me wonder if she had karate training. Maybe Tae Bo. Two male hosts ran up to intervene, and it started to look like my plan would end up with Tyra getting arrested instead.

  “…Get your GODDAMNED HANDS OFF ME, or I will SUE YOUR ASS!”

  Soon the bar manager was there, and three or four others in crisp white shirts. Everyone tried to speak to Tyra in calming tones, assuring her they would pay for the dry cleaning, insisting that Donna apologize. Tyra was offered everything from free drinks to a free dinner to a comped room, and soon her tantrum quieted. I looked at Donna, who could barely hide a smirk even as she hung her head and tried to look contrite.

  “The ladies room is right that way,” I heard a man say, pointing in my direction. I ducked quickly behind the plant. “If you want, someone can escort you—”

  Tyra broke out of the middle of the huddle, racing toward me. “Leave me the fuck alone,” she said over her shoulder.

  Tyra was so angry and focused on brushing the spilled drink from her clothes that she practically ran straight into my chest before she saw me. My beard didn’t fool her: Her mouth opened, and her eyes widened with surprise and fear. Smiling for the sake of onlookers, I grabbed her arm, tucked her elbow inside mine and twisted her wrist into the classic, painful come-along.

  “Motherfu—”

  “Make one more sound,” I whispered. “I dream about nothing but breaking your bones.”

  It’s all in the delivery. It was in my eyes. She damned well knew what she’d done. Tyra’s lips were sewn together, quiet. She was breathing hard.

  “Let’s walk,” I said, and I yanked her farther into the lobby, looking for privacy. She whimpered, and I tightened my grip to shut her up. I wished I could hustle her to the elevators, but we would be too exposed there. Instead, I peeled off toward a corner where two luggage carts had been left, piled with designer bags and golf clubs. Enrique saw us and gave me a disdainful look, but he turned away, shaking his head.

  A service elevator appeared around the corner from the carts, out of guests’ sight. Relieved, I pushed the button for the second floor. The door opened immediately.

  “Missed you at Serena’s funeral,” I said, shoving Tyra inside.

  She stumbled and nearly lost her balance, but my wrist-lock kept her close to me. “You know cops are lookin’ for me,” Tyra said. “And I
didn’t know what was gonna happen at the apartment. I swear, I didn’t know they was gonna try to shoot nobody. I didn’t know nothin’ about no fire.”

  “What did you think was going to happen?”

  “Maybe you’d get a beat-down, that’s all. He was…”

  I tightened my wrist-lock, and Tyra yelped. “You’re gonnabreak it!”

  “That’s the idea. Who’s ‘he’?”

  “I’ll tell you, but nobody else. It was Glaze. You already know that.”

  There was a pause in our conversation after the elevator reached the second floor. With my free hand, I fished the room key Enrique had given me out of my pocket. I hustled Tyra down the hallway to the room April had just left.

  The key still worked, a relief. I was afraid Enrique had frozen me out.

  Tyra wriggled to free herself. Her wrist must hurt like hell, but she probably thought I was going to kill her. I shoved her face into the wall, leaning hard. “Chill out,” I said. “We’re just talking. Then you can go finish pimping your sister’s corpse.”

  Tears filmed Tyra’s eyes. “Fuck you,” she said. “You don’t know shit.” But she stopped resisting. I closed the door behind us, and we were finally alone. I yanked Tyra away from the door, where it was less likely someone would hear her.

  The room had a CD player. Still holding tight to Tyra, I turned it on and rested my finger on the volume button. Fleetwood Mac’s “Don’t Stop Believing” suddenly blared in the room, loud enough to drown out a woman’s screams.

  I sat Tyra in a chair and pinned her with my knee, still holding her wrist in a lock. I was right on top of her, and I could see the contours in her face that mimicked Serena’s perfectly, the uncanny sameness of their noses and cheeks. I could also see where she and her sister were nothing alike—their eyes.

  “You’re right. I don’t know shit—so you’re going to fill me in,” I said. “Why did Glaze try to set me up?”

  “Man, I don’t know. Glaze don’t tell me his business.” My gut told me she was lying. Her forehead fluttered, creasing, and I almost grinned, knowing I’d spotted a nervous tic, what poker players call atell.