by William Poe
The Silverlake house sat perched on a hillside, approachable by a road that wound upward along tight curves from Silverlake Boulevard or, alternatively, by driving more directly from Glendale Boulevard. Simon took the latter route, passing the house several times to study the opaque glass that formed the street-front wall, hoping to see movement inside.
On the fourth pass, the front door opened to allow someone to leave. Simon immediately recognized Wally, Charlotte standing behind him, both aware of the car passing on the narrow street but neither recognizing the driver. Simon nearly lost his nerve, unsure about what to expect from an encounter with Charlotte, much less Wally. Simon drove past the house several more times before curiosity, tempered by rage, became too great.
Simon parked on a wider section of the street toward the downhill curve to Silverlake Boulevard, well beyond the line of vision from the front door. He knocked tentatively, surprised when Charlotte quickly opened the door, anticipating that Wally had forgotten something—and there stood Simon. Charlotte transformed into living stone.
“Hello, Charlotte,” Simon greeted.
The two gazed at each other without seeing, an eternity passing within the moment. Simon diverted from Charlotte’s blank stare to study the rooms beyond. The ficus tree he had bought from a local nursery, now tall enough for its top branches to reach the loft bedroom, seemed to welcome his arrival.
Charlotte backed away to allow Simon passage. He raced past the kitchen bar, darted through the living room, and threw open the balcony door to take a seat on a wicker chair left behind when Thad had transported his things to Sibley. A recent downpour, washing the air of LA’s smog, allowed the Hollywood sign to shine brightly against the backdrop of a brown hillside. Charlotte cautiously sat in the chair beside him.
“No guns a-blazing?” Charlotte asked. “I can’t imagine what you must be thinking.”
“Best that you don’t try.”
Charlotte sat with hands folded on her lap, leaning forward from the prickly back of the wicker chair, eyes watching the door, ready to flee upon detection of danger in the tone of Simon’s voice. “Do you want me to explain?” she asked, joining Simon at the banister as he stood to gaze at the Hollywood sign.
“Will any of it be true?”
“I deserve that,” Charlotte admitted, hesitantly placing her hand on top of Simon’s. “I’ve known where you were, Simon. I was going to fly to Little Rock and drive out to your little town. I even thought of showing up at the college and meeting you in the painting studio as a neutral place to see you after all that’s gone down.”
“Quite the conspirators, you and Wally,” Simon accused.
“Wally found out that you disappeared. I told him that I assumed your lease and started my own company. When you contacted him, we talked about it and decided it was best to keep our relationship from you. He didn’t know I had taken money from you. Don’t be too hard on Wally.”
Simon hoped his expression masked the smoldering anger he feared would erupt at any moment.
“Your clients were glad to hear from me when I promised to pay the money you owed them and explained that I would continue making sales if they would sign new contracts. A few were ready to sue for breach of contract, but I convinced them that no one else would try selling those wretched titles they owned. You really found a niche, Simon.”
Simon listened.
“Wally knew all along you had a cocaine problem, but as long as you kept bringing in money, he overlooked it—he said he didn’t know many people that weren’t into cocaine. But when you didn’t show up at MIFED and refused to see him about it, that was the end for him. Anyway, Wally and I figured that if you didn’t go back to drugs after rehab, we’d tell you about my new company.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Charlotte risked clasping Simon’s hand since he had not withdrawn it earlier. “After you started college and seemed stable, we didn’t want to mess with it. Wally said he mentioned that he had a distributor for his new material.”
“But I never imagined it was you!”
Simon pulled his hand from Charlotte’s grasp and leaned over the redwood railing to stare at the century-plant fronds that a drug-crazed boyfriend had once threatened to impale himself upon, prevented only because Simon had grabbed him by the belt and yanked him back to safety in the nick of time.
“What would I say to you?” Charlotte asked. “How could I explain what I had done so you’d understand?”
“I understand perfectly, Charlotte. At the worst moment of my life, you ripped me off! Now I learn that you assumed my life as a film distributor—in my very own house!” Flashes of rage gave way to sorrow and regret. Simon’s knees buckled, and he fell backward, catching the arm of the chair just in time to steady himself.
“I didn’t mean to kick you when you were down,” Charlotte said, straightening her blouse and taking off a hairband to rearrange her ponytail. “I’m no saint, I admit. I did rip you off, and at first, that’s all I meant to do—I mean, my God, Simon, you were practically begging for someone to stop you. When the money arrived from Spain, I took what I saw as my last chance to salvage something before you killed yourself. I intended to use the money to start over, but the only sensible thing I did was pay off a loan shark who had come after my daughter in Miami. Rudy and I went on a party binge and burned through a lot of what I had taken. Eventually, I realized I had to get it together. I still had the keys to this place, and when Thad hauled your belongings to Sibley, I contacted the landlords. They said they hadn’t heard from you and complained about the overdue rent. I paid it and arranged to transfer the lease—why not? I figured this would be the last place you’d look for me. Then I started thinking.”
“You tried to arrange something with the company in Spain, right?” Simon wanted Charlotte to be aware that he knew some of the facts, hoping it might keep her truthful. “Rudy gave me information the other day. That’s how I knew you were here.”
“Rudy,” Charlotte sighed with exasperation. “I don’t know what he told you, but I don’t ever want to see him again. He’s kept needling me for money. I never should have let him know I had the money—but we’ve known each other for such a long time. Anyway, I was an idiot to get him involved.”
“I can’t believe you’re speaking so freely about ripping me off!”
“If you were going to kill me, Simon, I’d be speared on those fronds down there already. As I said, I’m not a saint, not even a good person, really.” Charlotte looked heavenward.
“Damn it, Charlotte. I wish I didn’t like you so much.”
Charlotte smiled for the first time. “We really were a good team, weren’t we? The final few months are what ruined it. If only that damn Axl kid hadn’t gotten you to smoke crack. Damn his cute little ass.”
“Yeah, cute as a lamb hiding a wolf.” Simon scowled, remembering the day on the balcony when Axl had nearly jumped onto the century-plant fronds, trying to escape a paranoid delusion about policemen breaking through the front door.
Just then, a helicopter flew overhead in the direction of Echo Park, a news crew aiming to capture footage of another gang-related crime. When the noise died down, Charlotte remarked, “Don’t they know this is an upscale neighborhood?”
“So news copters should only disturb poor neighborhoods?”
“See what living in an upscale place like this does to a person?”
“Let’s get back to the story, Charlotte.” Simon wanted to explain what a bad idea contacting the Spaniards had been and to lead up to the reason he had come to Los Angeles.
“Thad boxed up your business records and took them when he emptied out the place, but I had made copies before you disappeared,” she said. “The contracts with the Spanish company didn’t add up to the amount they wired—they sent an extra two hundred thousand. You must have negotiated one hell of a deal! I thought I’d try to honor it, so I sent them a telex saying that you were no longer with the company but that I could ta
ke care of the contract you had negotiated if they would give me the terms. They never responded.”
Charlotte’s communication had alerted David, Emilio, and Irene to Simon’s disappearance. They might have thought Charlotte was part of a sting operation, which would explain why they hadn’t tracked him down and had instead taken another way to get back at him when the opportunity appeared in the form of Thad—his lover!
“I saw Wally leave here not long before I knocked on the door.”
“Yeah, he brought promotional tapes to show at MIFED—and besides, he has a crush on me. He’s such a sleaze. I could never date him.”
“Keep going, Charlotte.”
“I never heard anything from Spain, but I recently sent a follow-up telling them I would be at MIFED, and maybe they could drop by and see me. I figured they might be more willing to work out something if they met me in person.”
Simon wanted to explain about Thad at that point, but Charlotte hadn’t finished.
“I can’t wait to be at MIFED. The booth will have a banner saying Chanteuse Film Distribution—fits my last name of Singer, don’t you think?”
“Charlotte, you’ve no idea what you’ve done. The Spanish must have thought you were with Interpol or something, that your booth at MIFED was part of a trap.”
“Simon, you’re scaring me. What were you supposed to do for the money they sent? It wasn’t for a new contract?”
“I was supposed to help them launder money by supplying whatever films I could get my hands on. They’d claim sales through their own distribution network and justify the money through phony contracts. When I found out that you had drained the bank account, I didn’t know what to do—they’re dangerous people. Coming back to Hollywood was out of the question. I hoped that Arkansas would be a good place to hide.”
Charlotte’s red hair flashed a brighter hue, matching the crimson glow that had risen to her face. “I had no idea you’d agreed to something illegal!” She stood to compose herself, walking from one end of the balcony to the other. “Sounds like I better not go to MIFED.”
“What were you doing in Las Vegas so close to MIFED?”
“More of my stupidity. I thought I could win some money before going to Italy. I didn’t have much after working out a deal with your former suppliers. I wanted money to have some fun in Italy. I’m a pretty good gambler, and I did win, but then Rudy took half of it out of the hotel room and lost it playing roulette. I was so angry, I told him to get out and forget he ever knew me.”
“Rudy was pretty mad at you too.”
“Every time I tried to cut him off, he’d threaten to tell you everything. The bastard. I guess he followed through when I cut him off for real.”
“There’s something I have to show you.” Simon rushed to the car, returning to find Charlotte still sitting on the balcony. He handed her the video of El Amigo Rico. “This arrived in the mail. Look at the back cover.”
Charlotte became white as salt.
“I’m positive that Thad didn’t appear in this video by choice,” Simon said. “This was made by the Spanish company. Three despicable people are the principles. One of them is Emilio, the ‘rich friend’ you see in the photo. The other owners are a husband-and-wife team, David and Irene, who handle day-to-day business affairs. They formed a partnership to make this film with a Hollywood pornographer named Howard Price. Thad left Arkansas to work for Howard at his production company in Chatsworth, but not to star in porn, just to provide sound effects—something he used to do when he lived in San Diego. All three of the Spaniards showed up to finalize the deal, and then Emilio must have figured out Thad’s connection to me. Either they forced Thad to make the video in an attempt to recoup some of the money they sent me, or Thad decided to leave me and pursue a career in pornography—he might have fallen for Felipe, the other person in the still.”
Charlotte’s complexion returned to its normal hue. “Don’t be ridiculous, Simon. You’ve already told me that’s not what you think. Anyway, I can tell you when I watch it. I know what it’s like to fake sex.” Charlotte wrapped the thin sweater she had draped over her shoulders more tightly around her arms. “It makes me sick to think I’m responsible for this. Damn.”
“The scene on the back cover was shot in Spain. That’s where they’ve taken him.”
Charlotte listened to the details about Thad’s appearance at the Spotlight, and about the scene of the threesome featured prominently in the early part of the video. Simon explained that it reenacted Simon’s night with Emilio and Felipe.
“Stay here at the house,” Charlotte insisted. “I’ll watch the video after you go to sleep.”
“Strange being a guest in my own house. I’ve definitely stepped through the looking glass.”
“Sitting here with you now, all sober and everything, I don’t know how to feel,” Charlotte sighed. “After you left, I expected the police to call and tell me that you were dead. I’m sorry for what I did, Simon, and for not contacting you sooner.”
“I want to hate you, Charlotte, but I can’t. This is like having the memories of someone else, and then I realize it is me, and I can’t deny it. What a nightmare I lived! It still isn’t easy. Some days I struggle more than others.” He thought about Blaine and his near brush with relapse.
Simon bid Charlotte good night and went to the guest room, falling asleep within minutes of crawling into bed. Sometime later the smell of coffee and the rattle of dishes woke him up.
“Here’s fresh-squeezed orange juice,” Charlotte said, handing Simon a glass as he came into the kitchen. “Welcome back to California.”
Simon felt strange greeting the personable, self-confident Charlotte that he remembered from better days.
“Do you realize that you slept for two days?” Charlotte asked. “I’ve poked my head in the door a few times to make sure you were still breathing.”
“I had no idea. That explains why my head feels bloated to twice its size.” Simon drank two cups of coffee in rapid succession, filling his stomach with eggs and sausage.
“I’ve been busy while you slept,” Charlotte said. “I’ve made some discoveries, and I have a plan.”
Simon steadied himself for whatever Charlotte had in mind.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Simon and Charlotte changed planes at London’s Heathrow Airport on the last leg of a flight to Milan. Charlotte complained about the cramped seats in the coach section, the best she could afford after trading in the single ticket she had purchased earlier.
Simon, now having someone to talk to who knew his history with Thad, kept trying to reason through the possibility that Thad made the video of his own free will.
“Good grief, Simon, enough already!” Charlotte scolded. “I was there through your arguments—Thad stealing Cicero to spite you, you running after him with a carving knife—oh my God, thinking back on all that! You wanted to destroy each other. It has to be true love!”
“Always the cynic!” Simon shot back. “Our life has been different since we both went through rehab. The fact that we kept coming back to each other is what speaks to me of love.”
Charlotte flashed a huge smile, the reading light overhead causing her eyes to glisten.
“Damn it, Charlotte. I keep looking over at you and feeling like I’m the one who should apologize, when you are the one who stole from me.”
“Do you want to spank me?”
“Don’t make me laugh!”
“You should never trust someone as completely as you trusted me. I mean, you simply accepted Rudy vouching for me. And oh my God, Rudy. You definitely shouldn’t trust him.”
“Guess that’s why I take betrayal so poorly. I keep expecting the best of people.”
“You make yourself suffer when people don’t live up to your expectations. That’s your nature, and it’s not healthy, Simon.”
“I’ve never been good at forgiving myself.”
“I didn’t mean to do that.”
“What?�
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“Make you sad.”
“You haven’t. I’ve made so many bad choices over the last few years. I thought giving you so much responsibility for my business was one of them, but I see that’s not the case.”
Charlotte reached over to stroke Simon’s cheek with backs of her fingers. “This cute face was so full of sorrow. Every time a hustler ripped you off, or won your heart and then hurt you, I saw a part of your soul disappear. When Axl left, I worried what you might do. I’ve got to admit, though, heading off to New York thinking you’d be a famous artist wasn’t on my list.”
“Axl! Another gift from Rudy. I wish he’d never seen Axl at the Spotlight and called me to take him in. I saved the little Adonis from the street—I even kept him from throwing himself off the balcony. What thanks was there? An introduction to smoking crack.”
“You can’t give hope to a hustler,” Charlotte challenged. “It causes them to despair over what’s become of their life, and then they want to end it. That’s what happened to Axl. It’s not your fault. You were trying to be a good person. When you left Hollywood, I was sure I’d never see you again. Communicating with you when you were on the road, I was sure you’d lost your mind.”
“Not sure I had a mind to lose.”
“But look at you now.” She again brushed her fingers across Simon’s cheek. “All peachy and clear-eyed,” she said as she clasped his hand.
“You understand me better than most people, Charlotte.”
“I understand one of the Simons. Not the religious nut or the Simon in love with that Japanese woman. What was her name?”
“Masako. I did love her, but I should never have gone through with the marriage.” Simon took back his hand and called the steward to serve drinks.
“I didn’t mean to upset you again.”
“No, it’s just, so many different paths might have unfolded. What if Masako and I had had children? I would have tried harder to stay married but almost surely would have started living on the down low—trying to love my wife but having sex with men. I’ve always dreaded such an existence. Practically all the gay men I met growing up in Arkansas lived that way.”