The Big Bamboo

by Tim Dorsey

  misunderstanding?”

  “That was before I went to the set and found out she couldn’t act,” said Tori. “Fuck her.”

  “Tori! That’s terrible!” said Mel. “You’re our kind of people!”

  “But who are these guys you hired?” asked Ian. “That’s the part that worries me. What do you really know about them?”

  “Relax,” said Tori. “They’re pros, absolutely the best.”

  “How’d you get them?” asked Mel. “I’d have no idea where to start looking.”

  “Friends of mine put me in contact. Vouched for them up and down.”

  “A hundred thousand dollars still sounds steep,” said Ian. “Seems like we could have gotten by with a lot less—”

  “What do you think this is, hiring college kids to deliver holiday mail?” said Tori. “That’s what you have to pay if you want something like this done right.”

  “I’m just wondering if we can trust them with Ally’s safety,” said Ian. “If something goes wrong, we’re all accomplices.”

  Tori laughed. “I’m more concerned about the kidnappers’ well-being. Ally’s so high maintenance she makes Paris Hilton look like a Navy SEAL.”

  SUNSET STRIP

  The Standard Hotel. Room 222.

  A knock at the door.

  Coleman staggered over, holding a bottle of Beam by the neck. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Serge. Open up.”

  “Who?”

  “Serge! Open up!”

  A long pause. Coleman took a swig. “Serge isn’t here.”

  “No, you idiot. I’m Serge. Open up!”

  “Who?”

  “Serge!”

  Another pause. “Serge isn’t here.”

  “We’re not making a comedy album! Unbolt the door right now or I’ll kill you!”

  Coleman opened up. “Oh, hi, Serge.” He stuck his head out in the hall. “Some guy was just here asking for you.”

  “Boob.” Serge came inside with a briefcase and looked across the suite. “Holy mother!”

  The curtains were drawn all the way open: Ally Street out on the balcony, leaning over the railing.

  Serge made a mad dash, yanked her back inside and pulled the drapes shut. “What the hell’s wrong with you? People can see up here!”

  “I want to go down to the pool.”

  Serge was at a loss. “What part of kidnapping are you having trouble with?”

  “I’m losing my tan.”

  Coleman tapped Serge’s shoulder. “The sign on the front of our hotel is upside down.”

  “That’s on purpose.”

  “What about the lobby?” asked Coleman. “There was this hot chick in lingerie living in a giant aquarium behind the reception desk.”

  “It’s L.A.”

  “Did you get my water?” asked Ally.

  “Forgot,” said Serge, placing the briefcase on the dresser. “I was kind of busy. There’s some bottles the hotel provided in the closet.”

  “It’s not my brand.”

  “It’s water,” said Serge.

  “I need my brand.”

  “Serge,” said Coleman, holding up a foil strip. “They have rubbers in the courtesy bar.” He held up his other hand. “And my dope is all wet.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t smoke it wet. I forgot it was in my pocket when I took a shower.”

  “Why were you wearing pants—

  Forget it. Hair dryer’s by the bathroom.”

  “Thanks.”

  Serge flipped the latches on the briefcase. He slowly lifted the lid with heart-flutter anticipation. Bingo. Jammed with packs of hundred-dollar bills that seemed to give off rays and make the room brighter. Wait, the room was brighter. Serge turned around. “Ahhhhh!” Curtains open again, Ally straying onto the balcony.

  Serge sprinted and jerked her back inside.

  There was a small bang; lights dimmed momentarily. “Everything’s okay,” said Coleman. “Just dropped the dryer in the sink.”

  Serge closed the briefcase. “Do I have to child-proof?”

  Coleman came over with the charred dryer. “Did you get the money?”

  “Yeah,” said Serge. “But then I met this guy and traded it for some magic beans.”

  Coleman pitched the small appliance in the trash. “They gave us a broken dryer. And it blew my dope all over the rug.”

  Serge slid the briefcase under the bed. He reached in a suitcase and removed his portable DVD player.

  Coleman got down on his hands and knees, picking through the carpet. “Found a place last night that you’d like.”

  “I was wondering where you went,” said Serge, placing the DVD player on top of the television. “I woke up and your bed was empty.”

  “Can we get my water now?” asked Ally.

  “After I passed out, I got up and it was still only midnight,” said Coleman. “So I walked down the block to the Chateau Marmont.”

  “Good choice.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Coleman. “Belushi croaked there, so I figured it was the place to party. Had like ten drinks.”

  “Must have spent a fortune,” said Serge, turning the TV sideways. “A beer is what? Ten dollars?”

  “I don’t know. I was drinking scotch.”

  “Wow. Your tab had to be over two hundred dollars

  ”

  “Except it was eighteen-year-old scotch.”

  Serge extracted sets of RCA cables from his suitcase. “

  Four hundred.”

  “And I was buying rounds for the bar.”

  “Jesus!” said Serge. “How much did you spend?”

  “I don’t know,” said Coleman, getting out his wallet.

  “Did you hear me?” said Ally.

  Coleman opened the billfold to the currency section. “Hey, all my money’s still here.”

  “You skipped out on your tab at the Marmont?”

  “I don’t remember,” said Coleman. “I was pretty stoned, too. Near the end, the bartender had to keep wiping up my spills. Then I got the two-minute warning.”

  Serge unscrewed co-ax. “The what?”

  “You know when that voice in your brain says you have to start heading for your bed right now or you won’t make it?”

  “Unreal. You drank all night at the Marmont for free.”

  Coleman stuck the wallet back in his pocket. “And I’d always heard it was expensive.”

  Serge attached the last of the wires and turned the TV back around. “There.”

  Coleman touched his forehead. “But I can’t remember how I got this bump.”

  “That was my fault,” said Serge, walking over to his suitcase. “You blacked out on the roll-away bed and started snoring like an elephant. Tried to turn you over, but you were too heavy, so I spun the bed around. At least you’d be snoring the other way

  ”

  “Are you ignoring me?” said Ally.

  “

  Then you got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and walked the wrong way into the sliding glass door.”

  Coleman rubbed the knot. “I thought it was a force field.”

  “And I need my personal trainer,” said Ally.

  Serge set a tall stack of flat plastic cases on top of the television.

  Coleman cracked a beer. “What’s all that?”

  “My L.A. collection.” Serge opened one of the DVD cases and slipped a disk into the player. He pressed play. Val Kilmer came on the screen.

  “What about my trainer?” said Ally.

  “Quiet!” said Serge. “I’m studying.”

  Coleman began rolling a joint of Hawaiian red bud and turquoise Burlington. “What are we watching?”

  “Wonderland,” said Serge. “The John Holmes murders. Actual events as well as location shoots took place all around here.”

  The door opened. Serge hit pause. He ran out in the hall and dragged Ally back in.

  “Let go of me!”

  Serge grabbed the .45 from his suitcase and stuck it between her eyes. “Try that again and I’ll

  ”

  “You’ll what!”

  Serge tossed the gun aside. “

  I’ll

  make you drink tap water.
”

  “I want my trainer! I’m going to lose tone!”

  “You’re in luck,” said Serge. “I’m a personal trainer.”

  “You are not!”

  Serge nodded emphatically. “That’s my main field. I just do this other on the side

  Let’s get started.” He took Ally by the arm and walked her into the bathroom. “Begin jogging in place.” Ally began jogging.

  “Faster!” said Serge.

  She went faster.

  “Faster!”

  She went even faster.

  “That’s great!” said Serge. “I’ve never had a student learn so fast!”

  “Really?”

  “Keep doing that and don’t stop until I say.”

  “Okay.”

  Serge came back in the room and sat down on the foot of the bed. He restarted the movie and hit ultra-slo-mo. “Coleman, look!”

  “What?”

  “Our hotel is coming up. You think I chose room two-twenty-two by accident?”

  A voice echoed out of the bathroom. “How long do I have to do this?”

  “Until my movie’s over,” said Serge.

  The sound of her footsteps dropped off. “Are you messing with me?”

  “Don’t slow down,” said Serge. “An uneven pace actually makes you fatter.”

  Ally speeded back up.

  Serge pointed with the remote. “This is the aerial montage of Kilmer leaving the Wonderland drug den and making a coke-crazed, pinball drive all over Hollywood

  Steadyyyyy, steadyyyyy, now!” He froze the screen and zoomed in. “There’s our room! There’s our room! See?”

  “Where?”

  “Right here!” Serge grabbed a Magic Marker off the dresser and made a circle on the TV screen. “That’s ours. Think about it! Like a hall of mirrors. Our room is in the movie

  that’s playing in our room

  that’s in the movie

  that’s playing in our room!

  I try to dwell on it until it starts screwing with my head. Like the first time I grasped I was a self-aware organism, conscious of the universe, hurtling toward the black abyss of death, and then I had to go read a comic book.” Serge rubbed the circle on the TV with his palm. “It won’t come off.” He looked at his pen. “Whoops, used a permanent marker

  . Oh, well. Inherent risks of being an innkeeper.”

  Another bathroom echo: “What’s the name of the program you have me on?”

  “The ‘Stop Fucking with Serge Workout.’ ”

  Coleman leaned toward the TV. “It is our room.”

  The door to the hall opened.

  Serge dashed and pulled Ally back inside.

  “You’re no trainer!”

  “What did I tell you about opening that door?”

  She pooched out her lower lip. “I’m all smelly now. I have to take a shower.”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  “I’m not getting in that shower.”

  “Why not?”

  “Your friend peed on his feet in there.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I could hear it. He wasn’t running the shower.”

  “Coleman! Run the shower!”

  “I did after she told me. That’s why my dope’s wet.”

  Serge restarted his DVD. “If we weren’t such good friends, I’d vote you off the island.” He grabbed a notebook and began writing with a pencil. A tap on his shoulder.

  “I need my water.”

  The pencil snapped.

  ** Chapter 22

  VISTAMAX STUDIOS

  Tori and the Glicks sat quietly in the brothers’ spacious office. They smiled nervously at the detectives. The detectives smiled back.

  Tori’s cell phone rang. She smiled again and looked at the display. She got up, walked across the room and faced the corner. “Hello?

  ”

  The detectives exchanged glances. They strained to hear but couldn’t.

  “Slow down,” Tori whispered. “You’re talking too fast

  I know she’s a piece of work

  You’re just going to have to be patient

  Look, I can’t really talk now

  ”

  Ian’s cell phone rang. He checked the display. International prefix from Japan. He went to another corner. “Hello?

  I was just about to call

  I’m whispering because the police are here

  Oh, you already heard about that?

  Yeah, I guess we had a little kidnapping

  Listen, I can’t talk now, but it’s all part of this great plan

  ”

  The detectives looked at each other again.

  “

  No! Don’t leave the room under any circumstances!

  ” said Tori.

  “

  What was that? ‘Don’t pay a single dime in ransom’?” said Ian. “What do you mean, ‘Or else’?

  Oh, I see

  ”

  Tori came back from one corner of the room. Ian returned from another. They sat down and smiled again.

  “Anything the matter?” asked Detective Babcock.

  “No,” said Tori. “Why? Something look the matter?”

  THE STANDARD HOTEL

  A honeymooning couple in dripping bathing suits walked down a second-floor corridor. They heard yelling as they passed room 222.

  “No!” screamed Ally. “I won’t do it!”

  Serge’s right hand had her neck in a stranglehold. His left held a glass to her mouth.

  “Drink the fuckin’ tap water!”

  “No!

  ”

  Serge gripped her throat harder. Then gurgling. Fluid streamed down her chin. She spit the rest in Serge’s face. “Fuck you!”

  Coleman swayed against the balcony railing, staring down at the pool. “Everyone’s skinny.”

  Serge wiped his face and grabbed the .45. He jammed it between her eyes.

  “What are you going to do?” said Ally. “Shoot me?”

  “If you keep pushing!”

  “It’ll make too much noise. And what would Tori think?”

  Damn this woman. Always a valid comeback! Serge put the gun away, retreated to the foot of the bed and turned on the TV. Ally had been giving Serge the silent treatment until she realized that it helped him watch his movies. So she reversed field.

  “

  This is ridiculous!” said Ally. “I can’t take it anymore!

  ”

  “Shut up!”

  “

  We’re living animals. No, animals have it better!

  ”

  “Shut up!”

  She stepped in front of the television. “

  I will not shut up! I will not stop talking!

  ”

  Coleman staggered across the room, spilling a tall glass of bourbon. He squeezed between Ally and the TV. “I think I’ll take a shower.”

  “

  Maybe you’re used to pigsties!

  ”

  Serge rocked violently on the edge of the bed, covering his ears. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

  ”

  Ally turned around and pressed the TV’s power button. The screen went black.

  Serge dropped his hands from his head. “What just happened?”

  “We haven’t had a maid for three days!”

  “You turned off the TV.”

  “I need new shoes!”

  “You turned off the TV.”

  “Do I have your attention?”

  The shower began running. Coleman: “I think I’ll take a nap now.”

  “What are you doing?” shouted Ally. “Put me down! Put me down this instant!”

  He did. She hit the bed and bounced two feet. “You’re mean!”

  “Just getting warmed up.” He advanced like a panther.

  Sniffles.

  Serge pulled up short. “Don’t you dare.”

  Trembling mouth, tears welling.

  “No, not that! Anything else!”

  Sobs began.

  Serge sat on the side of the bed. “Please don’t cry

  . Please stop

  ”

  It only grew louder.

  “C’mon, I can’t take
it,” said Serge. “Women and children crying, it rips me up. Men crying, I kick ’em in the balls, because I can’t take that either, but in a different way.”

  Full blubbering now. “I need my acting coach!”

  “But the police are looking for us.”

  “My instrument will get rusty.”

  “Instrument? You’ve been in this town too long.”

  A protracted, pitiful wail.

  “Okay, okay,” said Serge. “I’ll get you an acting coach

  Actually, I’m an acting coach.”

  “You are not.”

  “I swear.”

  “This is just like when you said you were a trainer.”

  “I’ve taught some of the best.”

  “Liar!”

  “Honest.” Serge narrowed his eyes and formed his mouth into a straight line. “ ‘Go ahead. Make my day!’ ”

  Ally raised her head with streaked mascara. “Clint?”

  “Confidentiality clauses prevent me.”

  “I don’t know. I still think you’re lying.”

  “Come on. You want your instrument to get rusty?”

  “No.”

  “What were you working on with your regular coach?”

  “Femme fatale.”

  “Perfect,” said Serge. “We’ll start with Body Heat. A Florida classic.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “What’s the matter? It’s a great movie.”

  “I know,” said Ally. “I loved Body Heat! Especially Kathleen Turner. It’s what got me into acting in the first place.”

  “My theory proven again,” said Serge. “Movies connect people.”

  “Remember when she meets William Hurt by the bandshell.”

  “Remember it? I’ve been there!

  ‘You can stand with me but you’ll have to agree not to talk about the heat!’ ”

  “ ‘You’re not too smart, are you?’ ” said Ally. “ ‘I like that in a man.’ ”

  “Then Hurt buys her a cherry snow cone that she drops on her chest, and he offers to get some paper towels

  ‘I’ll even wipe it off for you.’ ”

  Ally’s eyes beckoned. “ ‘You don’t want to lick it?’ ”

  She and Serge slammed together in a sexual froth. Ally tore at his pants. He ripped her shirt. She bit his neck. He cracked his knuckles

  PANAMA CITY, FLORIDA

  A massive penthouse took up the entire top floor of a high-rise beachfront condo. It was paid for by a string of new car dealerships in Alabama and eastern Mississippi that led all their respective markets because of promotional tie-ins with college football.

  The building’s other units completed the stair-like architecture down to the beach and were filled with radiant sunlight from a cloudless view over the Gulf of Mexico.