‘That means the meth’s kicked in again. I’ll come over and try to calm him down. We’ve got to get his head screwed back on before Kimberly and Star arrive.’
‘Thanks, Shaun. He needs some convincing.’
I find Stu rummaging in the trash, his face thinner and paler than earlier. ‘Why’s Shaun here if he’s been fucking nicked?’
‘Are you sure he was nicked?’ Hammy says.
‘I don’t know,’ Stu says. ‘I don’t know what’s going on. But there was a helicopter out there.’
‘There’s always helicopters out there. LA’s like Gotham bloody City. I wasn’t nicked, Stu. I’ve been in my room. Nothing bad is going on. Kimberly’s coming back to dance for us and she’s bringing Star.’ Surely a double dose of dancers will cure him.
Stu tips trash onto the floor.
‘What’s the deal with the trash?’ I ask.
Sifting through it, Stu says, ‘Transmitting devices.’
‘Stu, I just went through this with a friend in Phoenix who did too much crystal meth. Trust me, man, you’re imagining it.’
A creaking noise in the air-conditioning vent attracts their attention. Stu springs up. They both turn their heads to the wall.
‘Thought so. Knew it,’ Stu says, nodding. ‘That’ll be the microphone, then.’
‘What microphone?’ I ask.
‘The one next to the camera in the vent. We need something to prod the vent.’ Stu kneels and looks under a bed. Hammy walks towards the bathroom. ‘Halt there! Stop there!’ Stu jumps up and blocks Hammy’s way. ‘Hammy, where’re you going?’
‘I’m off for a piss,’ Hammy says.
‘You’re not going in there, are you?’ Stu asks, his brows leaping.
‘Where the hell do you want me to go? Pee in a plant pot?’
Stu scrunches his forehead. ‘Well, I’m going with you then.’
‘I’d rather you not, but if you really have to.’
‘Not without me! There’s something going on and I think you’re involved!’
‘Stu, there’s absolutely no way. We’re here for a holiday. We just need to get some sleep and all this will be forgotten. Look, Stu, I’ve got to slash.’
‘Then I’m coming with you, so you can’t give out the code.’
‘What fucking code?’
Stu leaps on the bed and springs like a frog, landing on Hammy’s back. I gaze, speechless, unsure whether to laugh or be shocked.
‘Fucking hell, Stu,’ Hammy says.
Clinging to Hammy, Stu says, ‘Now I know nothing can be going on while you slash.’
‘How’s he going to piss with you on his back?’ I ask, hoping to talk Stu down.
‘Fuck it! I’ll just have to see.’ Hammy walks into the bathroom and unbuttons his jeans. ‘This must look weird.’ He inhales loudly as if psyching himself up. I doubt he’ll pull it off until the silence is broken by a few drops landing in the toilet. There’s a slight pause. Hammy’s next inhalation is followed by a steady stream. With Hammy finished, I worry about what Stu might do next.
‘Hold on, you!’ Stu yells. ‘When you’d finished pissing, why did you shake your dick six times? Three shakes is about right. Six is way too many shakes.’
‘What are you on about?’ Hammy asks.
‘Six shakes is some kind of code to the people looking through the window and to Shaun!’
‘Come on, Stu,’ I say. ‘I’ve never heard anything so daft.’
The pierced faces of two young punks appear at the bathroom window: a woman with pink hair and a man with a green Mohawk.
‘Just listen to the crazy accents on those dudes,’ the man says, pressing his face to a window that has shed most of its protective film of frost. ‘Holy shit! Check the guy out on his back.’
Hammy waves at the punks.
‘Oh, I don’t fucking believe it. I knew it.’ Staring down from near the ceiling, Stu shakes his head at the punks. ‘You were signalling to them. Three shakes is all you needed. You didn’t need to do more than three shakes.’
As if to confirm Stu’s suspicion, there’s a knock on the door. With Stu locked tightly on his back like a startled monkey, Hammy wheels around from the window. We stare at each other, shocked.
‘Cops,’ Stu says.
‘We’re fucked!’ Hammy says.
‘Hold on,’ I say. ‘Who is it?’
‘Kimberly and Star.’
Relieved, I open the door.
Kimberly walks in. ‘Hey, guys, why don’t we go to Santa Monica Beach?’
‘That’s a great idea,’ I say, hoping the waves will calm Stu.
‘Why? What’s going on down at the beach?’ Stu yells from the bathroom.
‘It’ll be fun,’ Kimberly says.
Fixing his fly, Hammy emerges with Stu on his back.
‘Whoa! What’s going on with you two?’ Star asks.
‘Who’re you meeting at the beach?’ Stu barks at Star, his face contorting into a grotesque sneer.
‘What the fuck have you taken?’ Star asks. ‘I’m not sure I want some of that! You all gave me your word that you were going to be good boys. What the fuck happened?’
Stu leaps off Hammy and marches to Star. ‘What’s fucking going on at the beach? Are you going to fucking tell me or are you fucking in on it as well?’
Scowling, Star recoils. ‘I ain’t putting up with this shit!’ She storms out, dashing my hopes of calming Stu.
‘Perhaps you and Star should come back later on,’ I say to Kimberly, embarrassed. ‘Stu’s not … er … feeling well.’
‘I’ve gotta go, Shaun. Sorry,’ Kimberly says, shaking her head. The dancers disappear.
Hammy picks up a cigarette pack.
‘Don’t do it!’ Stu yells, his pupils darting from side to side as if attempting to catch things in the corners of his eyes.
‘Do what?’ Hammy asks.
‘Give the code out with that cigarette packet!’
‘Stu, you’re my mate. I love the bones off you. There’s no way I’d stitch you up. But right now we’ve got each other so schizo’d out, I’d believe it if someone said they’d seen Elvis Presley crash land a UFO at Stonehenge. What we need to do is go to the store and get more beer.’
‘Let’s do it,’ I say, clinging to the chance that beer might help.
In 7-Eleven, Hammy puts a suitcase of Budweiser on the counter and hands Stu a bottle of orange juice. Stu smashes the bottle on the floor and jumps up and down as if stomping on a cockroach. The Middle Eastern man behind the counter calls the cops. ‘We’ve got a couple of wild Limeys here or Australians, I can’t tell which.’
‘Run, Stu!’ Hammy yells.
‘Let’s go, Stu!’ I say, dashing for the door.
We barge through customers and sprint down Sunset Boulevard, weaving around street people, tourists, pimps, prostitutes and drug dealers. Back in the room, Stu is adamant about being brought to LA to take the fall for a shady deal. Hammy sides with Stu one minute and agrees with me the next. Every explanation I offer is met with angry resistance, pushing me to my wit’s end. Stu roams the room. He puts his ear to the walls, peeps out of the windows and flinches whenever a car door slams. He combs through the trash.
‘Stu, let’s try and get some sleep,’ Hammy says. ‘Then we’ll wake up and be able to laugh at the fools we’ve been making of ourselves.’
‘Whose side are you on?’ Stu yells.
‘No one’s, Stu,’ Hammy says. ‘I just think we can’t think clearly right now. I want to sleep, wake up and have a meal and a beer, and it all to go back to normal. I’d like to see a bit of the West Coast and to sample the good things apart from acute paranoia.’
‘Do you believe me or Shaun?’ Stu yells.
‘For me it’s a trust of faith between the two of you. I’m listening to the information, but having a hard time trying to keep it rational.’
‘Then I’m right: you’re in on it!’ Stu yells.
‘My mind is trying to switch off,
’ Hammy says. ‘Whatever you think’s going to happen, we just need to get that out of the way and get some sleep, which has proved impossible. I don’t think Shaun’s brought us here to set us up, but I can’t convince you if I’m not convinced myself. My head’s so battered, I just don’t know.’
‘I swear you two are just paranoid from meth. What good would it do for me to set you up?’
‘He’s right,’ Hammy says. ‘How would he benefit?’
‘No, he’s not right!’ Stu explodes. He circles as if trying to escape from the room, faster and faster, tracing great arcs like a dust devil, in a counter-clockwise direction, which is the way of evil spirits according to the Navajos, running into walls as if his compass is malfunctioning. Unsteady on his feet, he grabs his case and tips his luggage onto the bed.
‘Stu, what’s the matter? Calm down,’ Hammy says.
Tearing through his belongings, Stu yells, ‘I know what’s going on!’ He leaps at me, pulls hundreds of dollars from his pocket and throws them at my face. As the bills cascade onto my head, he yells, ‘I know what you’re up to! My fingerprints are on that money!’ Shocked, I stand still, tongue-tied. He plants a foot on the bed, pulls a wad out of a sock and throws the money at me. ‘Have it! All of it!’ He bolts out and disappears down Sunset Boulevard.
My wide eyes turn to Hammy, who says, ‘I can’t believe he just ran out into the night like a wolf on acid.’
We search for him for days, worried about his safety, but have no success. Upset over the disappearance of his friend, Hammy flies home. He finds Stu and calls me:
‘Stu wandered LA, convinced he was being followed. When a Japanese family asked him to take a photo of them, he suspected they were in on the drug deal he still thinks you were setting him up to take the fall for. Trying to outsmart them, he agreed to take a photo. A wealthy Japanese businessman handed him an expensive camera. Attempting to destroy the evidence against him that was stored in the camera, Stu smashed it on the floor. He screamed so loud, the family ran off. Eventually, he passed out on a park bench. The homeless pilfered his shoes and most of his clothes. He woke up in just jeans, convinced the Japanese had him under surveillance. He started doing manoeuvres, mostly sprinting short distances and tucking himself into doorways. Desperate to return to the safety of our hometown, he flagged a taxi driver down and begged to be taken to the British Embassy. The taxi weaved through LA, running up the fare and making Stu even more paranoid. Stu was convinced the taxi was going around in circles, so he checked the taxi driver’s ID, which was displayed on the divide, for any hints of Japanese. The staff at the embassy – no strangers to Brits on drug and alcohol rampages – rustled Stu up a T-shirt and flip-flops. With him prattling on about being followed by the Japanese, they put him on the earliest possible flight home to get rid of him.’
Chapter 26
‘I want to hire Wild Man to kill my stepfather,’ says Desirae – a tall New York Italian with long, straight dark-brown hair – her big hazel eyes flashing angrily.
‘You shouldn’t talk like that,’ I say, peeling my eyes off the sides of her black underwear, emerging from low-slung jeans, arcing over her hips. ‘We don’t know who might hear us in this rave. Let’s sit in my car, so we can talk in private.’
‘Let’s go!’
In the RX7, I play trance music. ‘Why do you want Wild Man to kill your stepfather?’
‘’Cause he molested me in the swimming pool when I was a child.’
My stomach tightens. For a few seconds, I’m lost for words. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Talking her out of this isn’t going to be as easy as I thought.
‘I’ve got it all figured out. They have a ranch in California. I can get Wild Man in and he can kill him and take all the money I know is hidden there, and that’ll be Wild Man’s payment and it’ll look like a robbery and no one will suspect me.’
‘What your stepfather did is sick, but I think you’re going too far with this murder business. You really want him dead?’
‘I fucking hate him. He’s just this fat old pervert, and he even still says shit to me when I go visit them.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like how he wants to pay for me to get a boob job, so long as he can be the first to touch them.’
I feel queasy. She’s right. The world would be better off without this guy. ‘Jesus! That’s crazy. How much money’s he got anyway?’
‘Tens of millions. He sold his business for stock in some huge-ass company. My mother will get his millions if he dies.’
I listen for hours, charmed by her feistiness and the fire in her eyes. She eventually calms down and discards the murder idea. While she talks, I stifle the urge to kiss her. As if reading my mind, she leans closer.
‘Your eyes are so big they sparkle,’ I say, blood rushing to my face, my pulse jumping.
‘Is that what you tell all the girls?’ she says, narrowing her brows.
‘Only the ones with eyes like yours.’
She smiles. I lean forward and kiss her. She responds.
A drug dealer in Tucson sends Wild Man on a debt-collection rampage. I receive a call, asking to transport him and Chantelle back to Phoenix.
Fancying a trip to Tucson, Desirae volunteers her car. On the return journey, I’m driving by Picacho Peak when I hear Desirae yell, ‘Stop! Stop!’
‘What?’ I say.
‘Don’t fucking do that in my car!’ Desirae says.
Turning my head, I see Wild Man slapping his cow-size tongue in between Chantelle’s legs. ‘Please, la’. Not in Desirae’s car.’
A few days later, Desirae calls my office: ‘Wild Man almost punched me.’
‘What happened?’
‘He took some stereo I gave to a homeless guy and sold it for meth, so I got in his face.’
‘Good for you.’
‘I told him, “You fucking threatened that kid and took my stereo. I want my stereo back.” I went nose to nose with him. He could have punched me at that point and knocked my teeth into my brains. He said, “You’re lucky you’re Shaun’s girlfriend. I have respect for you. You have balls.”’
‘He would never lay a hand on you.’
‘And another thing.’
‘What?’
‘They’ve been sleeping in my car.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I got in my car this morning and it smells rank, and on the back seat is their backpack full of clothes and tweak pipes and shit.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ll talk to him.’
Chapter 27
Fish calls my office: ‘Wild Man’s in jail.’
‘What happened?’ I ask.
‘Him and Chantelle were skipping restaurants without paying. They got busted trying to leave Monty’s. They were running around like Bonnie and Clyde.’
‘How much is the bail?’
‘No bail. They put an immigration hold on him this time.’
‘He’ll be deported,’ I say in a sad voice. I love Wild Man like a brother, but I expected this and felt helpless to prevent it. I tried my best to influence him, but he’s a law unto himself.
After the stock market closes, I sit in my RX7 and count dollars from Ecstasy sales. By the time I spot a woman approaching the car next to mine, it’s too late to hide the money. Her eyes latch onto the pile of cash on my lap. Oh no! My boss’s secretary. I drive home, dreading the repercussions.
The next day, the boss summons me to his office. I walk in, woozy.
‘Take a seat, Shaun,’ he says, standing, grim-faced. ‘Shaun, you’ve done so well over the years, but I’m not sure what’s happened lately.’
‘I think I’ve got BOBS,’ I say, referring to Burnt-Out Broker Syndrome.
‘You’ve really got to get back to basics. Back to cold-calling. Back to building up your pipeline of leads. Back to opening new accounts.’
‘You’re absolutely right, Nick. I know what to do. I’ll get back to cold-calling.’ Yeah right! Why work every hour God sends wh
en I can make easy money from Ecstasy?
‘I’m going to put you back on the floor –’
Oh no! Fuck! Back with the rookies. No way!
‘– in the hope you’ll be motivated by everyone around you. A back office sometimes enables people to do less. They miss out on the buzz of the floor.’
‘Er … I guess you’re right, Nick,’ I say, blushing, humiliated.
‘Shaun, I can sense you’re at a crossroads in your life right now. You can choose to go this way,’ he says, pointing his right arm up, ‘and do the right thing. Be a rhino. Put the work in. Get back to where you were: the top producer. Or you can go that way,’ he says, pointing his left arm down, widening his eyes as if he can see the hell that leads to. ‘The way of the party scene.’
She must have told him about the cash.
‘If you do choose to make the party scene your full-time occupation, I think it’s a road you’re going to end up crashing and burning on …’
While I move my files to a quad, the rookies watch like piranhas. Humiliated, I know what’s on their minds: the cannibalisation of my client book. When everything is shifted, I sit embarrassed, staring at my phone, unable to cold-call.
The next day – six years into my career – I don’t go to work. I plan on living off money in the stock market in Hammy’s name while concentrating on increasing Ecstasy sales using the business techniques I’ve learnt. I’ve got the contacts. I’ve got the cash. I’ve had my fill of actively trading the stock market, but I’ll get back to it.
Chapter 28
‘Gangsta Dan stuck a gun in my face and kidnapped someone from my house!’ Desirae yells down the phone. ‘There’s blood and weed all over my carpet. Can you do something about it?’
‘Calm down, Desirae.’ Conditioned to talking on the phone and pacing, I rise from the black leather sofa in my condo. ‘What exactly happened?’ With Wild Man in jail, dealing with Gangsta Dan will be hard.
‘Remember Skinner?’
‘Yeah.’ Skinner’s a gutter punk with a pierced face who wants Ecstasy on credit, but Desirae and Acid Joey said not to trust him.
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