To tell you the truth, I just felt too lazy. I decided to spend the night quietly and thankfully alone.
Propped up on the couch, Brubeck on the turntable, and I on my third scotch; life was good.
Unexpectedly, to my disappointment, the doorbell rang. I looked at the clock it was eleven-thirty. Perhaps, Virginia complained about having a headache and slipped off from the celebration. I could picture it in my mind…her husband, though glad of her appearance with him at the beginning of the night, was more than happy to be rid of her and party on his own (I say that figuratively). Of course, once in the taxi, Virginia would tell the cabbie of her new destination – the abode of yours truly.
I thought about pretending I was asleep and not answering, but she was sure to see from the street my light was on. So, I resigned to my fate, got up from the couch, walked over to the intercom and pressed the button.
“Yes?” I said into the speaker.
“It’s me…open the damn door!” came back a man’s voice out of the intercom. For the life of me, I couldn’t guess who it could be. Possibly, some drunk pressed the wrong button.
“Who is this?” I asked.
“It’s me…Chi…open the frigging door!”
I pressed the enter-button, the buzzer buzzed; I could hear the downstairs front-door open and Chi scurrying up the stairs. I went to my front door and opened it. The hallway and stairs were pitch-black dark. I stood at my front door, glass of scotch in hand, listening to Chi make his way up the stairs. In a flash, he ran passed me and into my apartment.
“Quick…close the door!” he whispered.
I spun around and looked at him. He was sweating and breathing heavily. Then I noticed something strange, something so frightening, I sobered up that instant. I swallowed the contents of the glass in my hand, not an ounce of its alcohol essence made it to my brain.
“My God…Chi…you’re covered in blood!” I said.
He looked himself over, “Damn…it’s worse than I thought.”
“You’re all covered in blood!” Maybe fear doesn’t sober one up. My words were repetitive and slurred, “Chi…you all right?”
“Yeah…I’m all right…but, you should see the other guy,” he laughed.
“Chi…I don’t…?” I couldn’t make heads or tails of what was happening.
“Alex…do me a favor…I need to clean up…and I need some fresh clothes…whatever you can spare.”
“You know where the bathroom is,” I said, pointing my empty glass toward the bathroom.
He stood in the bathroom, in front of the sink, and he stripped. He ran the water and started to wash himself. I was staring at him. He turned to me.
“Alex…the clothes…I need the clothes!”
I ran off to the other end of the room, rummaged through some drawers and came up with some clean but old clothes I used for painting. I walked back to the bathroom, the folded clothes in my arms. Chi still naked, his body wet and so was the tile floor, and there was a swirl of bloody red water going down my bathroom sink.
“Here…” I said, handing him the clothing.
“Thanks,” he said, immediately putting them on.
“Chi…?” I said softly, “I need to know what the hell is going on.”
“Just business…nothing for you to worry about,” was his reply.
“Chi…I’m going to ask you, again. You come to my place in the middle of the night covered in blood. I’m glad to be of help, but I need to know what the hell is going on!” I said calmly, but firmly.
“Okay…okay…first things first,” he finished dressing, “I need a bag for my other clothes, and a drink if you can spare it?”
I walked into the living room, Chi followed close behind. I went to my kitchen area. I found an old grocery bag and he packed his bloody clothes into it. I took down two clean glasses; I filled them full of ice and scotch.
“Okay…I’m listening,” I said, sitting down in my armchair.
Chi sat down on the couch and sipped at his drink.
“Well, it’s like this,” he said, “I was at Chesterfields, tonight. I figured I’d make me a couple of dollars with some old fag. Well, there was this toothless old bastard at the bar. He was ugly as sin, so I hit him with a high enough price I was sure would scare him off. I told him one thousand dollars and the old bastard just smiles and says, ‘Okay’.
“So, we leave the club and walk down that alley off River Street…you know the one. Well, before I say another word, he falls to his knees in front of me. I tell him he needs to pay me, first. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a wade of cash that would choke a horse. He counts out a thousand dollars and hands it to me. I swear the grand didn’t even dent the roll. It was only a small part of the entire wad. So, I did what I had to do.”
“And what was that?” I asked.
“Well…you know?” He avoided giving me a straight answer.
I took a long draw from my drink.
“No, Chi…I don’t know…you tell me.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“And, what is that?” I pressed.
“I killed him.”
I swallowed my drink down and quickly poured myself another.
“You killed him? What do you mean, you killed him?”
Chi took a couple of sips, as he spoke.
“I reached into my back pocket, took out my knife, grabbed hold of the old bastard by his hair and cut his throat!”
I went numb, I couldn’t move and I couldn’t speak.
“Alex…you all right…you look sick.”
“You come to my home…” I tried to sound as friendly as I could, but I felt scared, “covered in blood. You ask to clean up and then you want fresh clothes. Now, like it or not, I’m involved in a murder!”
“Relax…it was just some old faggot…no one will care enough to ask more than two question. Besides, you don’t think I wouldn’t take care of my brother?”
He reached into his wallet and tossed over two thousand dollars into my lap.
“The old bastard had five grand on him…”
“Keep your blood money,” I said, tossing it back at him.
He collected it and placed it down on the coffee table in front of me.
“You’re drunk...you’ll be glad in the morning. Listen, I got to get going.”
He got up, paper bag full of bloody clothes under his arm, and walked over to the door.
“Don’t worry, I’ll let myself out.”
He opened the door and looked back at me.
“I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate this. I want you to know, even though I just gave you money, I still owe you.”
He walked out the door and was just about to close it when he turned once more to me.
“Say, listen, I’ve got a Thursday afternoon get-together with Mrs. Kenyon this week, but I can’t make it; if you fill in for me, there’s four hundred in it for you.”
I couldn’t say a word; I just sat there staring blankly into the nothingness in front of me.
“Will you do it for me?”
It took me a moment to answer. “Yeah…sure,” I said softly.
“Thanks…you’re a pal,” he said, slowly backing away, “Goodnight, my brother.”
He closed the door; I was alone.
I sat quietly in the armchair, looking at the glass in my hand, it was empty and I couldn’t remember when that happened. I thought of all my options, and there weren’t any. If I told anyone, especially the police, my whole way of life would go up in smoke. I would lose all my clients! I would become what I essentially was…a no talent artist without any way to find two nickels to rub together. I knew there was nothing I could do or say. I needed to go on as if nothing happened and stay friends…brothers, as he put it, with Chi.
Suddenly, the downstairs doorbell rang again.
“What now?” I asked, walking toward the intercom, “Yes…what now?”
“Are you drunk?” came a voice from the sp
eaker, “Open the damn door…it’s me, Virginia!”
“There’s got to be an easier way to make a living?” I asked myself out loud as
I pressed the enter-button.
CHAPTER SIX
“What’s a little murder between friends?”
Money can make anything happen! The more you have, the more you can make happen. They say money can’t buy happiness; but it comes close…very close. If you have enough money, you can change the course of your life by ending someone else’s.
***
The association between Virginia and me was showing serious signs of cooling down. We had been seeing each other for nearly a year. I tell you, there are only so many possible physical love positions in the Karma Sutra. A year’s just long enough for a couple to try out all the ones within their ability. I was doing my best to not show how bored I was; and I could tell Virginia was beginning to resent having to support me. I was a one-trick pony; and though I was good at performing that one trick, she had paid for the same pony show long enough.
In an all-out attempt to put the sparkle back into our affiliation, Virginia arranged for a week’s vacation for us in Mexico, while her husband was away on business in London. She rented us a bungalow at the Dakota Resort in San Miguel de Allende – a beautiful, remote and romantic, inland tourist trap, three hundred miles or so north of Mexico City.
Our two story bungalow had a veranda overlooking the swimming pool, which, being the off-season, we had pretty much to ourselves. In fact, the entire village was nearly ours alone.
After a couple of days, I’m sure Virginia felt convinced her vacation idea was just the shot in the arm our romance needed. We made love countless times throughout the day and night, but not because the sparkle had returned. Despite eating, drinking and wading in the pool, there was little else to do.
It was late one night, after we polished off the better part of a bottle of tequila. Lemon rinds plagued our bed, and the saltshaker was nowhere to be found. We decided to slip into the pool for a moonlight dip.
We were alone, just the two of us floating about in the water holding on to each other and kissing. Virginia slipped her thumbs into the waistband of my swim trunks and pulled them down and off.
“Make love to me,” she whispered in my ear.
I helped her ease out of her bikini bottom and pulled her in close.
“What would you do for me?” she cooed as we made love.
“Anything…” I said, believing it was what she wanted to hear.
“Anything…you would do anything for me?”
“Yes…anything.”
“Would you kill my husband for me?”
I stopped all motion, opened my eyes wide and looked at her.
“I’d pay you whatever you wanted.” She was serious.
I pulled myself away; “I’m not a murder!”
“Think of it, darling,” she continued. “All that money would be ours and we can be together forever.”
Just the mere thought of the words forever and Virginia in the same sentence frightened me. But the wheels in my mind were turning at full speed…I had an idea…a plan.
“No, Virginia, if I do this for you, it’s over between us. You pay me…I do it…and we never see each other, again.”
She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment; and then she smiled, “Okay…it’s a deal; we can discuss price later.”
She floated toward me, and wrapped her arms and legs around me.
“Now…make love to me for the last time.”
***
The price we agreed on was fifty thousand dollars. All direct contact between Virginia and me would have to stop; all correspondence would have to be through the mail, except in an emergency, which, if everything went smoothly, would not happen.
She mailed the money in cash to my home, with a few snapshots of Edgar – since I never met the man or knew what he looked like. I decided it would be best she was to write me daily about Edgar’s comings and goings, watching and waiting for a suitable time.
Like clockwork, letters came everyday. Finally, pay dirt; Edgar was to spend a week in Los Angeles, the following month. He was to review some contracts and oversee the signing by an ultra-famous singer. I knew the date and time of his flight, his flight numbers, the hotel he was to stay at, even his room number. I had a month to prepare; it would be perfect.
The next part of my plan was to subcontract the job to somebody else. You didn’t think I was going to kill Edgar…now…did you?
I planned to enlist the services of the only psychopath I knew…your friend and mine…Chi.
***
Chi’s home was a high-rise apartment tastefully done. He hired the talents of one of the top decorators in the city and gave them Carte Blanche. The furniture was modern and all the artwork was Thai – reflective of his roots.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Chi asked pouring us both a drink.
“I want to ask you about the other night…when you came to my place all bloody.”
“Yeah…what about it? I told you I still owe you, if that’s what you’re worried about?”
“It’s not that, I’d just like to ask you a few questions…it’s important.”
“Ask away, buddy.”
I sat back, sipping at my drink. I knew I had to select my words carefully. I didn’t want to offend him. Chi was the last person I wanted angry with me…seriously.
“That night…you seemed so cool about it. I mean…I could never do something like that.”
“Of course, you could,” laughed Chi.
“I don’t think so; you’re made of sturdier stuff than I am.” I thought stroking his ego would help – it did.
“Where is this all leading to, Alex?”
“Chi…was that the first time you ever did something like that, or…?”
“Alex, if you think I go around murdering people all the time, the answer is no. But if you want to know if I’ve killed someone other than that night, the answer is yes.”
He was smiling as he told me this, his most precious secret. He beamed with pride, as he tried unsuccessfully to remember how many people he had killed in his life.
I realized then and there I was in the presence of a true sociopath…without conscience – without a sense of right and wrong – and without remorse. I was playing with fire in a kerosene soaked lumberyard!
“Alex…quit pussyfooting around, and tell me what the hell it is you came here to tell me!”
I continued to tell him all about the contract I was holding on Edgar Kingston by his wife. I told him about Edgar’s forthcoming trip to Los Angeles. I let him in on all the details save one, the true total of the contract – I deviated from the correct amount a little – instead of fifty thousand, I told him it was twenty thousand. I told him I would split it with him fifty/fifty.
“Alex, what do you think I am…stupid? What the hell are you trying to pull here? Fifty/fifty…ten thousand dollars! Cheating me like that…what do you take me for…a sucker?”
“Cheating you?” I whispered. A fear came over me. How could he have known the amount was more?
“I’m taking all the risk and I’m doing all the dirty work. The split needs to be three quarters to one.”
“Yeah…sure…that sounds fair. Whatever you say,” I smiled a smile of relief.
“You sure?” asked Chi, “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to cheat you.”
“Chi…I would never think that of you,” I smiled.
***
I booked a first-class flight for Chi to be in L.A. the day before Edgar’s scheduled arrival. I also reserved a room for him at a motel a block from where Edgar was staying.
I resisted the temptation to ask Chi what he planned to do when he got there, a part of me was just too afraid to ask.
I arranged for all my phone calls routed direct to my studio, bypassing the answering service. For the next three days I never left my home. I kept myself occupied with my painting, and
waited for word from Chi.
Finally, on the fifth day, the phone rang.
“It’s all done,” I heard Chi say through the phone receiver. I let out a long sigh. I felt relieved, but I couldn’t stop shivering.
“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.
“No, not just yet, I think I’ll stay on a few days more.”
“A few days more…? What the hell do you need a few days more for?” I was trying hard to keep the tone of my voice friendly.
“Disneyland…I’ve always wanted to see Disneyland.”
I wanted so much to scream into the receiver, “Disneyland…what are you crazy?” But that’s not something you do when it comes to Chi.
***
Following morning, the headlines told the tale – “Rock star found dead!” The article went into more details.
Thursday – Up-and-coming, Grammy Nominee, Tina Douglas and her lawyer/boyfriend, Edgar Kingston were found dead in Mr. Kingston’s hotel suite at the Empire Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard.
Police say the couple had been bludgeoned to death with an, as of yet, unidentified blunt object. Both Ms. Douglas and Mr. Kingston suffered multiple fatal wounds to the head, neck and chest.
Investigating officer, Captain Michael Ramirez, relayed to reporters the killings had all the signs of a “Drug deal gone bad”.
Police say they have numerous leads and are confident a suspect, whose name Captain Ramirez could not disclose at this time, will be in custody within twenty-four hours.
The article went on about how the Music Industry was mourning the loss of such a great artist. Loss of their twenty percent would be more to the truth.
***
On the day Chi finally returned, we met at his place to celebrate. He had champagne on ice to toast our good fortune.
“So, tell me all about it?” I asked shyly.
“There’s not much to say,” Chi said, pouring the champagne and handing a glass to me, “First, I went to the Magic Kingdom, then I walked over to Tomorrow Land…”
Memoirs of a Gigolo Page 7