by Daniel Price
She finally wept. “When he first told me the story, he was crying worse than I am. He told me how that was it for him. That was when he knew he wouldn’t go down the way Tupac did. He looked to me, he was crying, and he said ‘Baby, I chose life.’”
One by one, she furiously pulled tissues out of the box on the floor. She used the whole wad to wipe her eyes.
“When he told me that story, I fell in love with him. Right on the spot. He had me for the long haul.”
She closed up her robe, gazing ahead in anger. “But when he told me I fucked up, that was it. That was the official limit of shit I would take. I have loved him, even though he’s betrayed me dozens of times. I’ve supported his career, even when mine died an early death. And I have stood by his side throughout this whole goddamn nightmare. I never asked him to thank me because I was his wife. But when he told me I fucked up... no. That was it. I took my suitcase and my daughter. I said good-bye and I meant it.”
She crushed her cigarette into a nub, then turned her gaze back on me. “Tomorrow morning I’m going back to Virginia to my parents’ house. I’ll unplug all the TVs and radios, curl up with my baby girl, and we are going to sleep for a month. That’s my only plan. Tell the press whatever you want about me. Whatever you think will help Jeremy the most. I don’t care. I just want out.”
Simba crumpled her tissues and dropped them into her lap.
“I’ve seen a horrible side of the world these past two weeks. It’s an ugly world you live in, Scott. And it’s going to take a long, long time to put it behind me.”
After a few long moments, I stood up from the hard chair. Wincing, I arched my spine.
“Death threats,” I said.
“What?”
“You went away with Latisha because of a death threat. It was Jeremy’s idea. He just wants to see the two of you safe.”
Simba glanced up at me, sniffing. “That’s good. That’s really good. You just think of that? “
I shrugged. “It’s my job.”
“Well, you keep doing your job, Scott Singer. You get him out of this shit. He never raped a woman in his life. You don’t stop until the whole world knows that. You hear me?”
I heard her, but I was looking at the patch of clay erections behind her. I couldn’t help but relate. Again I found myself fleeing to lower functions to avoid the complexity of my thoughts. It would be so nice to fly away to Virginia and curl up in bed with Simba for a month, or two, or six. It would be a grand relief to escape all the budding developments in my life, even the ones that looked promising (too promising). I was a weak man. I was a coward. And the women around me just kept getting stronger.
________________
At nine o’clock, CNN America aired its regularly scheduled encore of Larry King Live. All over the nation, all the people who had missed Harmony the first time around were settling onto their sofas, eagerly anticipating the explosive finale that everyone was shouting about. The ratings would spike significantly toward the end of the hour, especially on the West Coast. Everybody who missed the fourth quarter drama of Monday-night football, everybody who didn’t give a crap how Third Watch ended, everybody who loved Raymond but hated Becker, they would all have an interesting place to go at 9:53.
As the show began again, I made a sudden left turn off Wilshire Boulevard, just to get away from the silver Acura behind me. When I’d left Simba’s hideaway, I noticed the car idling behind mine. The moment I started off, it came to life and followed. All along Wilshire, it trailed me, just as Jean once did. The driver even had a small silhouette like Jean’s. It was déjà vu all over again.
I turned. The driver kept going. I pulled up to a not-so-legal spot of curb (permit parking only, fuck it), shut off the car, and began a late-evening walk through residential Westwood. It was just me and my thoughts, but they weren’t good thoughts. Two hours ago, Alonso had pronounced the death of quid pro quo. That didn’t faze me until Maxina confirmed his diagnosis. Once she had smuggled herself out of the Miramar, she called me for an update. I told her Simba wasn’t going to be a problem anymore. She told me Harmony was just getting started.
“Scott, I think it’s time we began discussing Plan B.”
“Not yet. Let me talk to her.”
“Don’t call her tonight,” she warned. “Give her time to wind down. Trust me.”
Sound advice, but what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t at least try to check on her? How could I pass up the chance to play good cop? After three blocks, I took the cellular brick out of my pocket and dialed Harmony yet again.
At long last, she answered. I could hear her own voice blaring in the background. Even she was watching CNN.
“Hey baby!”
Her odd pep threw me. “Harmony.”
“Took you long enough.”
“Your phone was off.”
“I know. I thought that would get you to come over here. Instead I got Maxina.”
“Sorry. She told me to stay behind.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” I replied with dark levity. “Maybe she was afraid we’d run off together.”
“You know, she said that whole thing with Simba was your idea.”
That smacked the grin right off my face. I froze in my tracks. It didn’t even occur to me that Harmony was joking until she broke out in harsh giggles.
“I’m just messing with you, Slick! Come on! Lighten up!”
“That’s not funny.”
“Listen to you, all freaked out and shit. How the hell do you expect me to trust you guys when you don’t even trust each other?”
“Harmony, look—”
“Ooh! Wait! This is the part where I talk about abstinence. Hold on.”
I had missed that segment. I tried to listen in but I couldn’t make out the words. Instead I resumed walking, waiting for her to come back to me. My stomach hurt.
“Damn,” she said with a laugh. “My motherfucking grammar was all over the place. I didn’t even notice. I wish Alonso had told me. Or you could have called me during the commercial.”
“Look, you know I had nothing to do with what Simba did.”
“Yeah, that’s what everyone’s saying to me. You, Maxina, Alonso, Larry.”
“Right now I’m just talking about me. I want you to believe me.”
“Oh, I believe you,” she responded sharply. “But that just means you didn’t see it coming. So every time you tell me now that things are under control, that things are gonna be okay, I’m less inclined to believe that. The name of the game is credibility, Scott. And you just lost some.”
I slowed down my pace, sighing. “You are indeed in a foul mood.”
“Actually, I’m not. That’s the weird thing. This was still the best night of my life. You were right. When those camera lights came on, something snapped into place inside me. I felt like I was moving faster than everyone else. Nothing could hit me. Nothing could hurt me.”
“I thought you were absolutely—”
“Except the phone calls,” she interjected deliberately. “That little thing they put in my ear really messed me up. I could only hear half the words the callers were saying, and the other half gave me a headache.”
“That’s normal. I had—”
“I guess it worked out okay, though. If I had heard everything that motherfucking bitch was telling me, I probably would have given it all up.”
I closed my eyes. “Harmony...”
“I would have given you up, too.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. I spun around and started back for the car. “Okay. That’s it. If you’re not dressed, get dressed.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m picking you up,” I said. “You and I are going out for a drive.”
She thought about it. “No.”
“I thought you wanted me to come over.”
“Not anymore,” she said. “You’re just gonna tell me the same shit Maxina told me. Except I know you. Once you get me alone, you gonna
lay all your words on me. You’re gonna talk me into doing something I don’t want to do. And I don’t want you doing that.”
“Harmony, you knew this part was coming—”
“You never said it’d be so hard! You never told me it’d be so hard! You tease me with all this fame, all this respect, all these money offers, and then you just pull it all away from me right when I’m starting to like it! Like it was all some fucking joke!”
“None of that stuff has to end.”
“Oh, no, I’ll still be famous,” she fired back. “I’ll be famous for being the bitch who let everybody down. The bitch who lied!”
“You’ll win them back.”
She laughed. “Yeah. In other words, things are gonna be okay. Sure, Scott. Sounds good to me.”
I walked faster. “Look, let me come pick you up. We’ll go for a drive and we’ll—”
“No!”
“I won’t even talk! I won’t even open my mouth! You can sit there and yell at me the whole time! You can yell at me all night! I don’t care! I just want to be with you, okay?”
“Why?”
“Because tonight you were the most magnificent goddamn thing I have ever seen in my goddamn life! And I only caught half the show.”
That stumped her. “You didn’t watch the whole thing?”
“No. I had people over.”
She paused in amazement. “You’re shitting me.”
“It’s all right. I taped it.”
“Is this another one of your tricks?”
Grimacing, I swung a tight fist through the air. “Goddamn it! This is not a trick! I am not lying! Tomorrow morning, you and I are going to have that conversation. That conversation. But tonight I just want to see you, live and in person. Can I? Please?”
I was so flustered, I forgot where I parked my car. I couldn’t even remember what kind of car I’d rented. I twirled around, scanning the street. Shit. Now what the hell do I do?
“No.”
“Harmony—”
“No, Scott. You go home. You watch the rest of that show. And you save your strength for tomorrow. I already know what you’re gonna ask. And you already know my answer.”
“Harmony, wait!”
With a click, the line went dead. I stopped looking for the car. It was a lost cause. And to think that three and a half hours ago, I was Superman. Now I was just helpless. Three and a half hours ago, I was the benevolent author of other people’s fates. Now I was just another hopeless, hapless character, getting swept along with the plot.
All I could do was pray for a decent ending, but it wasn’t so easy to stay sunny when I could hear those dark whispers out there in the cineplex. This was the part they’d all been waiting for. This was the part where things got ugly.
— FOUR —
BLAME
20
DISHARMONY
The strife got off to an early start on Tuesday. As dawn crawled over the west, a sheet of paper dribbled out of the fax machine in the management office of the L’Ermitage hotel. The text was hand-drawn and sloppy, but it didn’t take a scholar to interpret the message. bitch fiend: ka-boom!
Within minutes everyone inside the hotel was evacuated onto the street, including poor Hunta. Given the hour, there were only two bodyguards on hand to protect him from the camping flock of reporters, photographers, and protesters. Hunta had to be held back when one of the journalists asked him if he had ever raped his own daughter. It was simply a setup for the cameras (as was the bomb threat, one might argue), and it worked beautifully. Shots of the rapper in all his savage fury would be online and on-air in a matter of minutes.
At 6:45, Big Bank and the rest of the reinforcements arrived, but by then the scare was already over. The police questioned Hunta in his suite. Do you recognize this handwriting? “No.” Has anyone threatened you recently? “Yeah, man, everyone’s threatened me recently!” Where are your wife and daughter? “Fuck you.”
Ten minutes later, Doug was on the scene, ripping into both the police and hotel management. The cops suggested that Mr. Sharpe leave the premises immediately. Management insisted on it. By 8 a.m. the crew had checked out and was en route to the rapper’s next roost. Only a handful of people were trusted with the secret of Hunta’s new location. I wasn’t one of them. I didn’t even know how to reach him anymore.
It was just as well, I suppose. All I would have done was offer more assurances and more help. He’d already had enough of my assurances. By Tuesday morning, he’d suffered quite enough of my help.
________________
I woke up at 7:56, four minutes ahead of my alarm radio. I took that as an encouraging sign. Beating the clock, keeping a quick step ahead of the world’s noise, was a good note to start the day. I hopped out of bed. I stretched. I pulled Jean’s momentous sticky (we moved out) off the floor, crumpled it, and threw it in the wastebasket. All the loose files in my head were organized into neat little folders, and the folders were put away. I was a lean, sleek vessel, optimized for maximum performance.
I took a deep breath and then called Harmony. She sounded awake and alert. She was apparently ready for me.
“So did you watch the rest of the show?” she asked.
“I did.”
“Wasn’t I good?”
“You were better than good,” I told her. “You were entrancing.”
“Always the sweet-talker.”
“You asked me a question. I gave you an honest answer.”
“Scott, are you in love with me?”
Jesus. She was jumping right in, wasn’t she? I refused to be thrown.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I know I’m infatuated with you.”
“Yeah? You ever have fantasies about me?”
“Yes.”
She laughed. “Damn. You’re surprisingly direct this morning.”
Glad she noticed. For this conversation, I was determined to stick to raw sincerity. No rhetoric. No mincing. No witty evasions.
Harmony, by contrast, seemed more polished than ever. Every word out of her mouth sounded like a sixth draft.
“I had a dirty dream about you last night,” she revealed. “We were sitting on someone’s couch, watching TV. And it was me on TV and you were talking all through it. You were telling me how I was so good about saying this, and why the press would love me for saying that. And as you were talking, you started touching me. It was all casual at first but then before I knew it, you had my shirt undone. You’re even sneaky in my dreams.”
“Harmony—”
“There’s more. Don’t you want to hear it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because this smells a lot like strategy to me.”
“Yeah,” she replied in a hard tone. “Now you know how I feel.”
I stood up from the couch and wandered. I wasn’t quite comfortable, in places.
“Harmony, I’ve done a lot of things. I’ve patronized you. I’ve underestimated you. But at no time did I ever manipulate you through some emotional charade.”
“You kissed me.”
“We kissed each other. If you think that was strategy on my part, then you’re overestimating me.”
She didn’t believe I was genuinely affected by her. And yet here I was, walking off the proof. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so tragic.
I opened my balcony doors. “This is my idea of the future. I hope you’ll hear me out on this, Harmony, because it’s very important. At one o’clock there’ll be a press conference in the garden room of your hotel, just like Thursday. Just like Thursday, you won’t be there. Only Alonso. Once again he’ll read a written statement, which you and I will compose together.”
“No.”
“Later this afternoon, I’ll come by your hotel with a small production crew. We’ll shoot a forty-four-minute interview that will be peddled to the networks, just like Maxina did with Jeremy last week. We’ll hire Kathy Oh to be your new official representative, replacing Alonso
. She’ll make sure that whoever gets the interview airs it in full.”
“It won’t do any—”
“It’ll just be you, on tape, explaining the circumstances. You made a bad pact with some bad people. You regret it. You just couldn’t live with the lie any longer.”
“After the way I cried—”
“You could not bear the fact that you were ruining the life of an innocent man.”
“How do you know he’s innocent?” Harmony asked.
“Of raping you?”
“Of raping Lisa Glassman!”
“He didn’t rape her.”
“How do you know?”
I sighed. “Because his wife knows.”
“That bitch? You believe anything that bitch says?”
“She has no reason to lie.”
“Of course she does! Hunta’s got another album coming out. That album means money. She only puts up with his shit for the money. Everyone knows that.”
I shook my head. “There are so many things wrong with that, I don’t even know where to start.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t know what he was like at the Christmas party. He was out of control. I saw him grabbing women by the ass, calling them bitches. I saw him on the couch with his hands all over that woman. I saw them leave together. And I saw her come back crying.”
“Well, then I guess she was raped. Did you report it?”
“Don’t put this shit on me like I’m acting all crazy. They called you in just to stop her. Why would they pay you a hundred and sixty thousand dollars to stop this woman if there was nothing to her story?”
“The story was enough,” I said. “In case you haven’t noticed, a little nothing can go a long way.”
“Yeah? Well, if it was no big deal, then how come you kept it from me?”