The Last Deep Breath

by Tom Piccirilli

“Yeah, I have.”

  “He didn’t want anything to do with Ellie. She was already getting a bad rep in the business. Once your reputation goes like that everybody in the industry knows. No one wants to work with you, nobody wants to hire you.” Harvey started to get a little animated again, talking with his hands, mauling the air. “Our agent dumped us because we were a package team. I had my career to think about. So we broke up and I went with Monty and she found this other guy, John Raymond. Said he was more than an agent, said he was a manager. Was going to get her parts in straight movies. Was going to have her do TV. He thought she should start over in New York, doing bits on the crime shows. Last time I saw her, that’s where she was headed.”

  “You let her go?” Grey asked. “Knowing she was using heroin? How could anybody get her a job on network television if she’d already been drummed out of porn?”

  “I don’t know. He said it and she believed it. I told her it was crazy but she wouldn’t listen to me. You must know what she’s like.”

  If only that were true. “You ever hear of this John Raymond before? He the real deal or just a—” Grey almost said pimp. “—manipulator.”

  “All agents are manipulators. But no, I never heard of him before, but he seemed no better or worse than the other bastards.”

  “No phone number or contact info or anything?”

  “She said New York, that’s all I know.”

  “How long were you two together?”

  “Over a year. We were thinking of getting married.”

  Grey wondered if it was a good thing she’d gotten out of being wed to this guy. Or if somehow that might’ve helped to stabilize her, even if the day job was fucking on top of a dining room table. “What got her strung out?”

  “She was always strung out, man. She was an explosive personality. Anxious, always on edge. It made her interesting, made her exciting, but she could wear you out. Wore herself out too. She’d try this and try that. She just liked the H better than the other shit.”

  Grey wanted to hate the guy. He felt the righteous need to beat and choke someone for not taking care of Ellie, for not watching over her. But he’d failed at that himself. She’d slipped out of his bed with a knife wound in her side, so how could he expect this punk to have done any better?

  Without another word Grey turned and left the bedroom, went back downstairs to where they were breaking down the set and putting away all the cameras and lights and equipment and dinner plates. Kendra was in the same spot except she was holding court with five or six guys now. Maybe they all knew her from the movies. Maybe they were making pitches on how she could break wide into porn.

  Grey stood outside the circle and waited. He decided to call Monty and ask about John Raymond but he couldn’t get past the secretary, who kept saying Monty was in a conference and couldn’t be disturbed. Grey was now persona non grata unless he offed Monty’s wife for him. He hung up and Kendra said her farewells and slid in beside him.

  She met his eyes, looked deep in his face as if searching for some intrinsic change in him. She didn’t see it and gave him a vapid grin. She seemed a little disappointed that he hadn’t snuffed Harvey or anybody else yet.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “There’s still plenty of time.”

  “Time for what?” she asked.

  15

  Back at the apartment she wanted him to help her run lines. She had an audition in the morning. He sat on the couch with the script of Killing Time open on his lap.

  “You know, this screenwriter just got out of prison,” she said. “His brother killed a dealer who’d sold meth to his son and he helped the brother while he was on the run.”

  “I know, I read about it in the papers.”

  “That’s why you chose this script, right?”

  “Mostly. I spotted a couple of good scenes for you while I was paging through it in Monty’s office.”

  It was a crime thriller about an older woman who’s in the Witness Protection Program after seeing a mob hit. She gets married to the FBI agent who’s helped her out along the way. Then the agent starts having an affair with a trampy waitress who gets him to betray the wife so they can collect a big payday from the mob. A young hit man shows up to kill the wife but they fall in love instead and set in motion a plan to get revenge on the husband, the tramp, and the mob boss.

  Tie the story in with the real life crimes of the writer and his brother, and you had something that had legs. There were a few nude scenes where Kendra got to show off her body, some good action thrills, a couple of big confrontations. She got to cry on screen, be seductive, and act the total bitch with a gun who shoots her husband’s balls off.

  “Monty should hire you,” Kendra said. “You’ve got a good eye.”

  They ran her lines for a couple of hours. Grey enjoyed playing different parts and started to really get into the roles. When it was time for her to seduce the young syndicate shooter she climbed into Grey’s lap and they tossed the scripts over their shoulders and fell onto the floor.

  Afterwards, while she lay panting, she said, “I don’t know. I got more hot rehearsing opposite you than I did watching the orgy.”

  “It was a pretty stupid orgy. Fucking on top of silverware.”

  “It was more raw with you. More honest.”

  It was raw, Grey admitted, but it was anything but honest.

  “In the morning I need you to call Monty for me,” he said. “See if he’ll cough up John Raymond’s address.”

  “My audition’s at nine a.m.”

  “After that. After you nail it.”

  She rolled over and crawled back on top of him. Salt was smeared at the corners of her eyes, and the flecks of gold pinned him. She was doing it again, trying to go deep into him, see into his soul.

  “You fill me with confidence,” she said.

  “That’s not all.”

  “I don’t know what it is about you. But there’s something. It drives me a little crazy. Maybe it’s because you don’t give a shit about anything.”

  “I care about something.”

  “The woman.”

  “My sister.”

  “Is that what she is?”

  “Yes.”

  She rode him hard and chewed his chest and mewled in his ear and later, as they were falling off together, the room turning cold with the wet breeze from a sudden shower, she murmured in his arms and called him a fucking liar.

  16

  In the morning he drove Kendra over to the casting agent’s office. He was going to wait in the waiting room out front but she said, “Come on in.”

  He shrugged and followed.

  Grey was surprised by how small and somber the audition area was. Looked like the break room in a factory he once worked in.

  The casting agent was a young woman who introduced herself as Judy. No last name. Grey was surprised that she was alone. He figured you had to audition for the director, the writer, the producers, a whole group of folks that sat in judgment and gave you the stink eye. But the lady was amiable and he could see that Kendra was at ease.

  A small video camera was set up on a tripod, aimed at a little stage. He took a chair in the corner and Kendra asked Judy, “Would you mind terribly if my friend read with me?”

  “Not at all,” Judy said, waving her hands like her fingernails were wet and she was trying to dry them. Everyone in this town spoke with bold bodily gestures. “Whatever works best for you.”

  Kendra smiled and nodded for him to come over. He stood and figured what the hell. He was familiar with the parts by now.

  Judy handed them one five page scene. It was the one where the hitter catches up to the woman on the run and she tries to seduce him. Kendra seemed to already know this was the scene she was supposed to have rehearsed for, but if she did she’d never mentioned that to him.

  Grey didn’t go overboard and didn’t underplay the role. He started off in a chair, but when Kendra began to really get into the part she touched him on the t
hroat and he lunged to his feet, and they played out the seduction leaning up against a wall. He pressed against her and she wrapped her legs around him. The script dropped from his hand. He didn’t know the piece line by line but he remembered the context and improvised. Kendra wound up saying her lines into the side of his neck, where she nipped at his jugular. The hitter was supposed to shove her away and stick the gun in her face one last time before he realizes she’s already got a hold on him. Except nobody had given Grey a prop gun.

  He pulled out the .32 and stuck it under her chin. He thought of Ellie. He thought of his one chance to sleep with her passing him by and he was filled with regret, guilt, and self-loathing over it. His breathing grew more and more shallow until he was panting. Kendra glared at him, the terror alive in her eyes knowing it was a real gun but still playing into the role. She grunted. He mashed his lips against hers and she bit his tongue hard enough to make him bleed. He drew his knuckles across his mouth and backhanded her. It made the entire scene perfect.

  Grey stepped away, returned the .32 to his pocket, and walked out of the room exactly like the hitter would in the movie.

  Ten minutes later Kendra got into the Chevelle. He knew he had to apologize but didn’t know how to go about it. He waited for her to smack him. He waited for her to rail and rage against him. He looked out the window at the palm trees lining the parking lot and thought this town probably made everyone at least a little crazy.

  He turned to look at her and she said, “Best audition I ever had. Let’s go home.”

  That afternoon Monty called her to congratulate her on acing the audition. They’d offered her the part. They’d looked at sixty women and had given several of them three call-backs each, but Judy wanted Kendra.

  Beaming and doing a little rabbit hop of joy, Kendra repeated everything he said. “A six-week shoot. Twenty K a week and a cut off the back end. Start on the 1st in New York.” Kendra smiled but there was something else clouding her eyes. “What? What’s wrong, Monty?” She listened for a moment and let out a gasp. “What? No. No. You did what? You didn’t, Monty. You couldn’t have.”

  She met Grey’s eyes and he got a seriously bad feeling. She almost let the phone fall from her hand but he grabbed it, heard Monty crying on the other end. He looked at Kendra and she said, “He told me he killed his wife. He said he bashed her head in with a 3-iron.”

  Grey turned his face from her, focused on Monty on the other side of the phone. Could imagine him there in the fish bowl, sobbing. Major celebrities walking by in the halls peering in at him. The cops would be there soon.

  “Monty, listen to me—”

  “If only you’d done it.”

  “Have you ever heard of a man named John Raymond?”

  “You told me to do it! You said I should do it myself!”

  Christ, Monty was right. Grey had said it. But who the fuck would’ve expected him to go through with it? Here, everybody he came across looked at him like he was a murderer, and some slick little shit without a plan winds up grabbing a golf club and taking out his wife.

  “John Raymond. He called himself a manager. You ever heard of him? He the real thing?”

  “You think a brain is solid,” Monty said, “like, I don’t know, like meat, but it’s not. It’s like egg yolk. It runs. It spatters!”

  There was a buzz of activity as Grey heard men entering Monty’s office, cops identifying themselves, and Monty being wrestled to the ground. Someone picked up the phone and gruffly asked, “Who is this?”

  Grey hung up.

  Kendra said, “Is it true?”

  “Yes. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He grabbed the .32, went out to the curb out front, and smashed the gun to pieces. Then he got in the Chevelle and drove out to the freeway and scattered them for miles.

  17

  Three in the morning Pax called. “Sorry about the time, but this was my only chance to phone.”

  “I was up.”

  “I’ll be back in two weeks. Wait for me.”

  Grey explained about Reno, Kendra, L.A., the Hollywood sign, Killing Time, Harvey, the hot tub, Monty, the murdered wife, and John Raymond.

  Pax let his silence talk for him, the same way Grey often did, the way they’d been taught to do as kids.

  Finally Pax took a breath and said, “You’ve been busy.”

  “Running in circles mostly.”

  “It’s not easy finding someone who doesn’t want to be found. What’s your next move?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Ellie could be dead, you know. From the knife wound in New York. You never did check the morgue or the hospitals or the police. That should’ve been your first stop. Maybe this Johnny tried to ice her again.”

  “She’s not dead,” Grey said.

  “She could be,” Pax insisted. “She could’ve died twenty steps outside your front door and you wouldn’t have known it. If it’s true, and she is dead, are you going to be able to handle it?”

  The question offended Grey. He wet his lips and his mouth worked for a moment before he found his voice. “You just keep blowing up insurgents, right? Leave family matters to me.”

  18

  He drove back to Judy the casting agent’s place. She was auditioning two actors that Grey recognized from a couple of indie films he’d really enjoyed. They were doing a comedy scene about two guys on the road with a stolen gorilla being hunted by neo-Nazis and a pre-op tranny CIA agent. They played to the little tripod camera, screamed and ran around the little area like the gorilla or the chick with a dick was after them. Grey sat in the corner again thinking, Jesus, what these poor fuckers have to do to make a buck.

  They finished up and walked past him without a word, their heads hanging.

  Judy bustled up and said, “I’m glad you came back. I wanted to offer you the part of the hit man in Killing Time.”

  Grey said, “What? I’m not even an actor.”

  “You’re a natural. I’ve interviewed more than a dozen men for that role and you were by far the most authentic and appealing. We want you for it.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “All of us.” She gestured to the empty room like it was full of people. “I showed the digital video to our director and writer and they loved you as well. You won’t even need to do a call-back.”

  Grey took a step away, drew his chin in like he was in a fight with enemies all around. “No, no, that’s not what this is about. Listen, have you ever heard of a manager named John Raymond?”

  She waved her hands in the air again, doing the nail thing. “Tell me he’s not repping you!”

  “No, he’s not, I’m not an actor, but I need to get in touch with him.”

  “Who is representing you?”

  “No one. Listen, I—”

  “I know just the person. Kendra’s agent. Monty Stobbs. Have you met him yet?”

  “I have, but Monty, he’s—”

  “I think you two will work magnificently together.”

  Nobody in this town ever heard a damn word you said.

  “Look, about John Raymond—”

  “He’s a bottom feeder. Small time with aspirations. He doesn’t protect his clients; he uses and wastes them.”

  “He’s here in L.A.?”

  “He has offices here and in New York, from what I recall, but please, if this film means anything to you, don’t bring him on board.”

  The film didn’t mean anything to him but he wasn’t getting anywhere this way. “I won’t, I promise. Killing Time is far too important.”

  “It is, it truly is!”

  “But I need to talk to him. He’s been trying to lure Kendra away from Monty with promises of television work in New York.”

  “That bastard will ruin her!”

  “I think so too,” Grey agreed. “So I need to see him face to face in order to...dissuade him.”

  Grinning, Judy got that look in her eye, the one that said she knew he was capable of great violence and wanted him to st
ay the course. “I’ll get his address for you.”

  She vanished into her small office and Grey stood there wondering where Ellie was right at that second, and if she had any idea at all what he was willing to do to find her.

  Judy returned with a Post-it note scribbled with John Raymond’s L.A. address and phone number.

  “Nothing for New York?” Grey asked.

  “No.” She touched his wrist with a little extra something, rubbed the back of his hand. “I can’t wait to work with you.”

  Her wedding ring was a wide band of gold with deep-set diamonds. She backed up toward the wall where he and Kendra had pawed each other. The fire in her eyes filled the rest of her face. A bead of sweat dripped down her cleavage. He smiled and thanked her, thought of her husband, wished the poor fucker well, and walked out.

  19

  He called the number but got no answer and no voice mail. He had to stop into three gas stations to get the directions down to Raymond’s office. He was in a shit part of town but Grey liked the liveliness of it. A lot of people out on the street, gangs of punks yelling and fucking around, drunks laughing, homeless pushing carts. Raymond’s office was in the middle of the block bookended by a pawn shop and a liquor store. He imagined how tenuous Ellie’s grasp on the world must’ve been for her to believe Raymond could do anything for her besides put her to work on the street.

  The lettering on the front window read STARMAKERS INC. The lights were out, the door was locked, and there was a sign glued to the glass saying the building was for lease. He put his face up to the window and saw that there was still a desk, chair, some photos on the wall, phones, and a computer inside.

  Grey called the leasing company’s number and said that he was considering renting the property but he wanted to know more about STARMAKERS INC. They told him that the owner, John Raymond, hadn’t paid his rent in over three months and they were planning on putting his belongings in storage and selling them off at auction to help defer costs. Grey said he couldn’t think of leasing the office until the matter had been completely resolved and maybe he could help facilitate the process if they gave him John Raymond’s contact information.