by Daniel Depp
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Araz. ‘He’s just a friend.’
‘You want to be friendly,’ said Savan, ‘don’t stand so fucking close to the window. I was out there for a while.’ Savan shook his head, opened the door, turned to Araz. ‘I just wanted to see the look on your face,’ he said, and walked out closing the door behind him.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Mitchell. ‘Maybe it’s for the best.’
He started to put his arms around Araz, comfort him. Araz hit him in the chest, knocked him backwards over the sofa.
‘You still don’t get it,’ Araz said. ‘You still don’t fucking get it.’
Araz went out, followed Savan onto the street where he was walking toward his car. Caught up with Savan, grabbed his arm. Savan shook it off.
‘You tell him,’ said Araz, ‘you know what he’s going to do.’
‘You should have thought of that before you took up sucking dicks as a way of life.’
‘I’m asking you,’ said Araz. ‘Please. For god’s sake just keep this between us, okay? I’ll quit working for Atom. I’ll fucking leave. You get my place, you get everything, okay?’
Savan said nothing, walked around and climbed into his car. Araz pulled open the passenger door and leapt in.
‘Please.’
‘Get out of my car.’
‘Please, you’ve got to help me out on this. He’ll kill me. You know he will.’
‘Get out of my fucking car!’
Araz reached out, meant to put his hand on Savan’s shoulder, to make contact, to beg. Savan knocked away the outstretched hand and hit Araz with his fist, spun in the seat and kicked at him, trying to kick him back out the half-opened door.
On one of the kicks Araz caught Savan’s ankle and held tight. Savan struggled and kicked with the other foot but Araz held fast and backed out the door dragging Savan with him. Savan grabbed the steering wheel, the gearshift, anything he could but Araz was bigger and his life was at stake. He pulled Savan out through the door. Savan fell on his back on the curb, his head still inside the car, his hands gripping the door post, struggling to pull himself back into the car.
Araz held on to Savan’s ankle with his left hand and with his right hand he slammed the car door as hard as he could. Savan made an ‘uff’ sound but still held on and Araz slammed the door again, and again. Savan let go and slumped to the gutter with his head and neck resting across the foot of the door opening and Araz slammed the door again hard and heard a pop that sounded like Savan’s neck.
He slammed the door two more times to be sure.
Savan didn’t move. There wasn’t much blood but Araz didn’t have time to see if he was still alive. He looked dead.
It was a quiet street in the wee hours of the morning. Araz hoped nobody saw.
He opened the rear door and half dragged half stuffed Savan onto the floor in the back. The car itself hid them from the street. Trying to put him in the trunk was too exposed.
The keys were still in the ignition. Araz got in and drove, pulling his shirt cuffs down over his hands to act as gloves. He kept going over in his mind everything he’d touched. He drove to Topanga and had just pulled a little off the coast highway up into the canyon when in the now quiet he heard Savan making short ‘ukk ukk ukk’ gasping sounds from the back. Savan managed to crawl up the back seat and get his hand over to grab Araz by the hair.
Araz slammed on the brakes and Savan bounced forward on the seat and then snapped backwards and slumped back to the floor. Araz pulled over just off the road and went round and pulled Savan out onto the dirt. Savan lay on his back looking up at Araz making those ‘ukk ukk ukk’ sounds and Savan figured he might have broken his neck or crushed the windpipe. Savan waved his arms a little, like a beetle on its back. Araz opened up the trunk and found the tire iron. He looked down at Savan who was looking at Araz and knew what was coming. Araz said,
‘Meat.’
He broke Savan’s right leg at the shin. Savan let out a hissing sound. Araz broke Savan’s left leg.
‘Meat,’ said Araz.
There was no other way to do it. It had to look like a mob hit, revenge, a show of force, a warning.
‘Meat,’ he said, and went to work on Savan’s head.
‘MEAT MEAT MEAT MEAT MEAT.’
He was splattered in blood but there was nothing to do about it. He dragged Savan round to the trunk and hoisted him inside and shut it. Savan looked dead. If he wasn’t dead then he would be by the time anybody found him. Araz stood for a while collecting himself and then set about wiping down the car. He got out his cell phone and called Mitchell and told him where to meet him and to bring a fresh set of clothes. Mitchell was panicking and asking questions and Araz told him to shut the fuck up and just do it. Then he put the cell phone back in his pocket and started walking.
He was waiting in the shadows at the side of the road when Mitchell arrived. Araz jumped into the car. Mitchell stared at the bloodstained clothes.
‘What have you done,’ said Mitchell.
‘Drive,’ said Araz. ‘Did you bring the clothes?’
‘You killed him?’
‘Drive the fucking car. You want to fall apart, do it later,’ said Araz.
‘Oh god,’ said Mitchell. ‘Oh god.’
Araz slapped him. Mitchell stared at him. Araz slapped him again.
‘I’m telling you,’ said Araz, ‘that if you don’t get the fucking car rolling you’re going to be just as dead as he is.’
‘I can’t drive,’ said Mitchell. ‘I’m shaking too hard.’
Araz got out of the car, stood next to it quickly changing into the fresh shirt and pants. He wadded up the bloodied clothes, tucked them under the seat, then went round to Mitchell and dragged him out of the car by his hair. Araz climbed into the driver’s seat and started the car. He looked at Mitchell, who just stood there.
‘Get in,’ said Araz.
‘This is all wrong,’ said Mitchell. ‘We should go to the police. They’ll understand. They have to.’
Araz thought for a moment, then got out of the car and put his arms around Mitchell. Mitchell sobbed onto his shoulder.
‘You’re right,’ said Araz, ‘you’re right, it’s all wrong, it’s all fucking horribly wrong. But this is what it is. Anybody finds out about this, we both go to jail. They’re going to think we did it together. So we have to get through this together, right? Right?’
Mitchell nodded.
‘I love you,’ said Araz. ‘I’ve never said it before but I want you to know it now. We’ll get through this together.’
Araz kissed him, looked gently into his eyes. Mitchell nodded again and went round and got into the car. They drove away. Araz reached out and took his hand and held it while Mitchell cried. Araz gave Mitchell’s hand a loving squeeze and it was at that point Araz wondered if he would have to kill him.
Meat, thought Araz. Meat.
FORTY-FOUR
It was a postwar cottage on a quiet street in Studio City. Nothing fancy, maybe two bedrooms, but each house on the street had a yard and each yard had a tricycle or a swing or a scattering of toys that declared, a family lives here. It was Charlie’s house, he’d lived there with his wife until she left him. Spandau wondered if living there ever bothered Dee. He thought it must, especially now. It would have bothered him.
Dee’s Prius was in the drive. Spandau parked in front on the street and sat there for a bit, finishing a cigarette. He saw Dee push aside the curtain and look at him and flip on the porch light. He finished the cigarette then went up onto the porch and knocked at the door. It opened quickly. She’d been standing next to it, waiting.
‘I’m glad you decided to come,’ she said.
The instant he set foot across the threshold he knew it was a mistake, he should never have come. Spandau had managed never to meet Charlie, but he could now feel him everywhere. To be standing with Dee amid this swirling sense of another man, another lover, another husband, was squeezi
ng the life out of him.
‘Would you like a drink? A beer? I’m sorry, maybe you’re …’
‘Not on the wagon, no. It was never that bad. I wouldn’t mind some coffee though, if it’s no trouble. I haven’t had much sleep.’
‘I’ll make a pot,’ she said.
He followed her into the kitchen. Sat down at the table and thought: Charlie sits here, she makes him coffee like this. It was a small kitchen but neat and clean. Dee’s handiwork everywhere. Some knickknacks on the wall Spandau remembered from their own kitchen. She set a pot of coffee brewing while he watched her. Her moves were slow and deliberate, as if she were demonstrating for the slow-witted how to use the machine. She knows how I’m watching her and she knows how I feel. He had never seen her commit a cruel act but to him this seemed cruel and pointless. If she doesn’t love me then why am I here, why doesn’t she let me go.
She poured a mug of coffee for him and for herself, brought them to the table, sat down across from him.
‘You’re not going to ask why I wanted you to come?’
‘There are a couple of good reasons,’ he said. ‘Walter’s dead. You’ll want to know how that affects us looking for Charlie. And then, like you said in your messages, you’re maybe a little worried about me.’
‘I’m not worried about you stopping the search for Charlie,’ she said. ‘I know it has nothing to do with Walter. I know that it’s just something you’re doing for me.’
‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘Walter just finished what he started years ago. It’s no real surprise.’
‘When you leave here, what do you do?’
‘I’ll probably go back to the office. Walter has dumped me in the shit again. This whole thing is a nightmare. Nobody knows what happens now, and everybody is looking at me like I have the answers. I don’t.’
‘Why not go home,’ she said.
‘What is it you want, Dee? What great goddamn secret is it that you think you know?’
‘I know you’re afraid to go home,’ she said. ‘I know you don’t live with her all the time, that you’ve still got the house in the valley, and that you won’t want to go to either place tonight.’
‘Are you suggesting I stay here?’
‘If that’s what you want,’ she said. ‘If that’s what you need. But no, it’s not what I’m suggesting.’
‘You want me to cry on your shoulder? You going to give me a comforting little cuddle? Or maybe you’re wondering by now if Charlie’s ever coming back and you chose the wrong man.’
‘Charlie will come back,’ she said. ‘You’ll find him and you’ll bring him back to me. This I know.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you said you would.’ She got up, went over to a cabinet, and took out a bottle of bourbon. ‘Fuck yoga,’ she said, and poured some into her coffee. She looked at Spandau and he nodded and she poured a good dollop into his.
‘You don’t know a goddamned thing about love,’ she said. ‘You never did.’
‘You don’t think you were loved?’
‘That’s not what I’m saying. I know you love me. I know you loved Walter, and you love my mom and you loved Dad. There are all these things you do love, and I know that you love them with the whole of your heart. Maybe you love Anna, I don’t know. I don’t question that you love, but I do know you don’t have a clue in hell as to what you’re doing.’
‘And Charlie does?’
‘Charlie has many problems,’ she said. ‘That’s increasingly obvious. But he’s comfortable being loved. He doesn’t have your passion, I’ll admit that. But he also doesn’t spend every waking moment waiting for me to stop loving him.’
‘But you did stop, didn’t you?’ He nodded to the wall. ‘You packed up your fucking little kitchen trivets and you left.’
‘I never stopped loving you, David. You know this. You just want it to be simple and it’s not. We never stopped loving each other, but we did wear each other out. You kept thinking I wanted you to live up to some ridiculous idea of maleness I had in my head. I didn’t. I just wanted you to be you. But you resented the hell out of me for it anyway, and I resented you because I kept failing to make you feel loved. We just exhausted each other. It’s not enough just to love. You’ve got to know how to do it.’
‘This is from that year in therapy?’
‘You’re damned right it is. Maybe it’ll boost your ego to learn that you were the major topic of conversation. You’re the only thing I ever really failed at. Well, no. I never could draw and now there’s Charlie too.’
She took a long drink.
‘Remember the night your father died?’ she said. ‘I had to go find you. Mom and Dad, we were all out looking for you. You’d gone out for a walk and hours went by and I was worried sick, I called and called and you never answered. Finally you did, and you said you’d walked all the way to Topanga. I drove out there and got you to bring you home and you said no, you didn’t want to go home. So we sat in the car and I held you and I asked you why you didn’t want to come home and you said, “Because I’m never going to walk in the door and see him again.” You said he was a bastard and a drunk and he beat you and your mother and your sister every day of your life but still you couldn’t understand why you felt the way you did. As if you had a choice. That’s the problem with you, David. You think you have a choice. Your heart just doesn’t go in the direction you point it. It just feels what it feels and you have to live with it, especially when you can’t follow.’
‘Why am I here, Dee? I need to be working.’
‘I didn’t want you to be alone.’
‘I’m not alone.’
‘If you love her, David, then let her inside. You need to be with someone.’
‘I don’t have time for this.’ He stood up. ‘Do you know what you want?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I do. I want you to be with someone who can finally make you happy.’
‘But it’s not you?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘it’s not me.’
‘I don’t have time for this,’ he repeated, and left.
FORTY-FIVE
Uncle Atom was on the warpath when Araz came into the office.
‘Where the fuck have you been,’ Atom demanded.
‘You just called me, I’m here.’
‘Where is your cousin?’
‘Which one?’ said Araz.
‘Don’t get funny with me, you pissant,’ said Atom. ‘Where is Savan?’
‘How should I know? I have my own problems and Savan does whatever the hell he wants.’
‘This isn’t like him.’
‘Maybe he’s hungover,’ said Araz, ‘or with a woman.’
Atom picked up a heavy ashtray from the desk and threw it against the cinderblock wall, where it shattered loudly. The door flew open and Omar jumped in, ready to kill somebody.
‘What the fuck do you want?’ Atom said to him.
Omar shrugged his shoulders and gave Atom a confused look.
‘Clean up this fucking mess,’ Atom said to him.
Omar nodded and started picking up the pieces of glass.
‘Not now, asshole,’ Atom said. ‘Give me a minute.’
Omar left holding a handful of shards. Atom turned to Araz and said,
‘You.’
‘Me what?’
‘I put you in charge of things, you’re the eldest, that’s the way it’s done. But you, I don’t know about you. Things are fucking up.’
‘How is Savan out fucking around somewhere my fault all of a sudden?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Atom.
He handed Araz an address.
‘This is an Indian casino up near San Jose,’ said Atom. ‘Your adopted deadbeat’s been spotted up there. Take Tavit. Take the van. Don’t fuck this up.’
‘You sure you don’t want to wait for Savan?’
‘Listen to the way you talk to me,’ said Atom. ‘Listen to the way you talk to your uncle. This is the problem. You have no respect.’<
br />
‘And Savan does?’
‘Savan fears me,’ said Atom, ‘and that is the only kind of respect worth having. That way I’m in charge. Respect, it’s about what the other guy feels. I don’t give a shit what the other guy feels. I want what I want when I want it. That’s the only way things get done. You should have learned that.’
Atom walked round the desk, stood close looking up into Araz’s face.
‘Do you fear me?’ he asked Araz.
‘Yes,’ said Araz, but not quickly.
There was a very long and dangerous moment while Atom stood there studying Araz’s face. Then Atom sighed deeply and turned away.
‘Find this asshole,’ Uncle Atom said over his shoulder. ‘You can’t find him you’d better think twice about coming back.’
Atom sat down at his desk. Omar went in as Araz went out.
‘Now?’ said Omar.
‘Yes now,’ said Uncle Atom irritably. ‘I’m surrounded by fucking idiots,’ shaking his head and going back to work.
FORTY-SIX
Walter Coren’s attorney was named Bernie Silberman. He was a showbiz lawyer, in his seventies now but still sharp as ever. He had an office in Century City where the furniture looked as if it had been picked up at a garage sale and the walls were lined with signed photos of Bernie getting snuggled by every major actor of the last fifty years. Bernie was a legend and nobody gave a damn about the furniture when they knew you were the guy John Wayne came to when he needed to weasel out of a contract.
Bernie tilted his desk chair back a few inches and lit a cigar and told Spandau he could smoke if he wanted. Technically this was illegal in this building but then Bernie owned the whole thing. Spandau lit a cigarette and couldn’t remember the last time anybody had let him smoke indoors. The smoke tasted sweeter.
‘An awful thing,’ said Bernie. ‘You know he hated the Beverly Wilshire, right?’
‘Something about wife number two getting naked in halls.’
‘She was a pistol, that one, let me tell you. She cost him a pretty penny. Thank god she eventually married some Saudi, Walter was in love and couldn’t wait for a pre-nup. Walter and his women. I used to tell him, Walter, if you need to piss away every cent you have, take up gambling or drugs, in your case it’s cheaper than snatch. Walter was a smart guy everywhere but with his putz.’