CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Getting Some
Harold took Andie to El Muchacho, a cozy little Mexican restaurant near the lake. After dinner, they enjoyed the music of Chaz Reed, a local solo artist, who was strumming his acoustic guitar in the bar area.
“He’s quite good,” said Andie.
“Yeah,” acknowledged Harold. “You seem a little preoccupied tonight. Is anything wrong?”
“No. I just have work on my mind. How about a couple of margaritas?”
“Good idea. That’ll get your mind off work.” The waitress brought the margaritas to the table. Andie took one sip as Harold engulfed his whole drink in five gulps.
“Bring me another one,” he yelled to the waitress.
“Boy, you really must have had a bad day,” said Andie.
“You could say that,” said Harold. Harold drank his second drink a little slower. They saw a woman walk up to Chaz and request a song.
“It looks like I have a request, ladies and gentlemen,” said Chaz. “But, I’m sorry – I’m going to keep on singing anyway.” The audience laughed. “Okay, I haven’t sung this song in a while. Let me give it a try. You guys bear with me now.” He started strumming his guitar with a little shuffle rhythm. “Pardon me if I mess up the words – here it goes – get ready – I’m not kidding…”
“Sing the damn song, already,” yelled a patron from the back.
“I see my mother came here tonight,” said Chaz, as he kept on strumming. “Okay – here it is.”
Chaz started singing the classic song. All was well until he got to the part of the song and sang, “You’re sixteen, you’re beautiful, and you’re mine.”
Harold’s jaw dropped. “Let’s get out of here,” he said to Andie, as he grabbed her by the arm.
“No need to leave so fast, sir,” Chaz said into the microphone, between the verses, “I’m sure this one is a little older than sixteen.”
The audience laughed, as Harold dragged Andie out the door.
“What is wrong with you?” asked Andie. “I was having a good time.”
“The music was too loud. Why don’t we go back to your place and get quiet?”
Andie settled down. “Okay. I guess I can’t argue with logic like that. Let’s go.”
Andie didn’t care about the way he was acting. She was ready for some serous playtime.
Debbie stumbled to her mark on the stage. She stared at her cast mate, and her mind went blank.
“Debbie, sweetheart,” said Donovan. “Please say your line.”
“Your line,” replied Debbie.
“No, say the line you’re supposed to be saying.”
“The line you’re supposed…”
“No, no. Please – recite – your – line.” I can’t believe she’s doing this again, he thought.
“Which one?” asked Debbie.
“The line – which you –are supposed – to be – reciting – now.”
“What kind of director are you? How the hell am I supposed to know what you’re thinking?”
Donovan glared at her for a few seconds. “Debbie – are you drunk?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“Please come down off the stage.”
“But I like it here.”
“Get off the goddamn stage right now.”
“Okay. You don’t have to be so ugly about it.” Debbie tripped down the steps. She got up, dusted herself off, and walked up to Donovan.
“What makes you think I drink have been having?” she slurred.
Donovan stepped back as her breath almost knocked him over. “Why in the Helen Hunt are you getting drunk right before a rehearsal?”
“I’m not drunk, ociffer,” said the swaying Debbie.
“Do you want to be in this production?” asked Donovan.
“Do you want to kiss my ass?” laughed Debbie.
“That’s it. Get away from me. I don’t ever want to see you around any production of mine.”
“What are you trying to say?” asked Debbie.
“I’m not trying to say anything. I have already said it.”
“You’re kind of confusing me, Donny boy. Let me get back up there and take it from the top.” She started crawling up the steps to the stage.
“Tommy,” said Donovan, to one of the stagehands, “Please call that woman a cab and get her out of my sight.”
Debbie was back on the stage. “Friends, Romans, countrymen – lend me your rears,” she recited, as Tommy, the stagehand, dragged her away.
Carlos was having dinner at home with his wife, Isabella, Frank, and Gina.
“How you feeling today, son?”
“Not too good, Papa,” said Frank. “I’m feeling kinda weak.”
“Don’t worry. Your Papa’s gonna take care of you. And you, Gina – you had a good time last night?”
“Yes, Uncle Carlos,” said Gina. “I really like Walls.”
“Who the hell is Walls? I thought you went out with Harold.”
“I call him Walls. I don’t like the name Harold.”
“I guess I can’t blame you. You want to see him again?”
“I sure would.”
“How about tonight?”
“That would be great.”
“Okay. I’ll call and get him for you. I need to talk to that Grimes guy tonight, anyway.” He looked over to his wife. “What you lookin’ at?”
“It would be nice if you would ask me how my day was,” said Isabella.
Carlos asked, in a half-hearted manner, “Okay, how was your day – dear?”
“It was terrible. The maid was late and I had to call a cab to get to the beauty parlor, since Frank was joy riding with the limo driver all day, and…”
Carlos’ mind drifted off to the two women who turned him down for dinner earlier.
“Yes, dear – that’s nice dear.”
Tony showed up at the auditorium in the middle of rehearsal. He saw Debbie’s car in the parking lot, but didn’t see her on stage. He walked up to Donovan and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Excuse me, sir, but where is Deborah?”
Donovan turned around and saw Tony.
“Cut,” he yelled to the cast. “What in the Helena Bohnam Carter do you want? Can’t you see we’re trying to have a rehearsal?”
“I beg your pardon, sir, but I am trying to find Deborah Bailey. She is starring in this production.”
“Was,” said Donovan. “She’s out. O-U-T, out. I don’t ever want to see her drunk ass in my presence ever again.”
“Excuse me, sir, but did you call her a drunk ass?”
“In so many words – yes.”
“Then you leave me with no choice.” Tony punched Donovan square in the nose and knocked him out cold. “Nobody – I mean nobody – talks about my little fettuccine like that.” He turned and walked away.
Benny and Julie were having supper at Little Italy. Photographers were having a field day, snapping at Julie from all angles.
“Aren’t you a little annoyed?” asked Julie.
“Actually, I think it’s kind of neat,” said Benny. “I figured you’d be used to all this by now.”
“I never got used to this part. I love performing. I just don’t like the part where you have to practically give up your private life.”
“Excuse me a second,” said Benny. He got up from his chair and yelled at the photographers, “Will you please leave us alone for a while? We’re trying to have a nice, quiet dinner.” Julie was impressed. The cameras quit clicking and the lights stopped flashing.
“That was quite a display. Thank you, Benny.”
Benny was surprised at himself. “No problem. It’s my job to keep you happy.”
She smiled, “And what a good job of that you’re doing.”
Benny couldn’t believe how well things were going.
“Oh, I almost totally forgot. Did you see the news this evening?” asked Julie.
“No. Why?”
“Right before you picked me up, I saw a r
eport on CNN about some detective tracking down a suspected murderer in Chicago.”
“I don’t mean to sound uninterested, Julie, but right now, I’m not interested in some murder suspect in Chicago.”
“But the reporter said it was the suspect in the Zipper Down case.”
“Wait a second. You saw this on CNN?”
“Yeah, right before you picked me up.”
“What else did he say?”
“This is the best part. He said the murder suspect worked for Apocalypse Records.”
“What?” asked the startled Benny.
“They said the suspect…”
“Yeah, I heard that part. Did they say who it was?”
“Calm down, Benny. They didn’t give a name.”
“They didn’t say Kat’s name?”
“Benny, you’re making a scene - and who’s Kat?”
“She’s the woman who’s been riding around in my car, stole Debbie’s boyfriend, and killed Zipper Down.” The photographers got up from their positions and started snapping again.
“Can we leave now, Benny?” said Julie, as she tried to hide her face.
“Oh God, this can’t be happening,” cried Benny. Julie grabbed Benny and led him to his car. They jumped in and headed towards Julie’s hotel.
“What came over you back there, Benny?”
“I’m sorry, Julie.” Benny regained his composure. “You see - my ex-girlfriend left a party with Zipper Down the night he died. She’s driving my Lexus because, like an idiot, I gave it to her. She was driving around town with the boyfriend of Debbie, who is a good friend of mine. I bet she left town and the police are after her.” He looked in the rearview mirror and saw the reporters following them.
“So, Zipper Down was murdered,” replied Julie.
“Apparently.”
“This is going to be great publicity.”
“What about me?”
“You don’t have anything to worry about, Benny. If this Kat is the murderer, just think of all the free publicity we’ll get.”
“What if I’m implicated in the murder because of the car - or because we were dating up until the moment she decided to leave the party with Zipper?”
“Did you kill him?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
“You sure are confident.”
“You have to be in this business. That’s why I decided to hook up with you. You have a grip on this industry.”
Benny turned onto the freeway to try to lose the paparazzi. “You call this freaking out having control?”
“You’re not freaking out, Benny. Look at this. You’re escaping photographers and reporters like it’s nothing.”
He looked in the rearview and realized he out-ran the whole bunch. He got off at the next exit, one shy of the one he needed. “I’ll just take the side road to the hotel. Sorry about that.” He had no idea how fast and elusive he was driving.
“No need to be sorry. You’re doing a fantastic job,” said Julie, as she reached over and started to massage the back of his neck. Benny pulled in at the front entrance of Hotel Rollins.
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at eight so we can finish the filming.”
“You’re not coming up?” asked Julie.
A little surprised, Benny said, “No, you need your rest.”
“I can rest later,” she said with a smile. “Are you suggesting I come up to your room with you?” “I’m not suggesting. I’m flat-out asking.”
“Okay, I guess.” Benny was nervous beyond belief. He was escorting this gorgeous celebrity around to the service elevator to avoid being seen. Apocalypse had the penthouse suite reserved for Julie. It was magnificent. The eighteenth floor window had a great view of the moonlit sky.
“Great room,” said Benny.
“You guys sure know how to treat a lady,” said Julie. “Can I fix you a drink?”
“Sure. I’ll take a wine spritzer.”
“You’re not a big drinker, are you?”
“I guess not.”
“I like that in a man. It shows you have a lot of self-confidence.”
Nobody had ever described Benny in that way - at least to his face. He was in the hotel room of a genuine goddess. Please, don’t let me screw up this one, he thought to himself. Julie brought Benny the drink and sat next to him on the sofa.
“You know, Benny, I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but I think you and I could make a great partnership.”
“Partnership? What do you mean?”
“I mean with all your knowledge of the industry and my talent, we could make something real big.”
Benny’s bubble was burst for a second. How stupid I was for thinking this could turn out to be something more than a business partnership, he thought.
“Yeah, this could turn out to be real profitable,” he said.
Julie inched closer to Benny. “We could produce a fantastic entertainment package.”
“Yeah, we could.”
She moved even closer. “You could have me in music videos.”
“Yeah.” Benny changed back into business mode.
“You could have me making an album,” she said, as she slithered within inches of Benny.
“Yeah, of course, providing you have a decent singing voice.”
“You could have me acting in movies,” she said, as her voice got a little softer.
“Yeah. I think I could come up with the necessary connections.”
She moved up to him her thigh was touching his. She whispered in his ear, “You could have me.”
Benny was oblivious to Julie’s attempt at seduction. “Go on. I could have you where?”
She started nibbling his ear. “You silly man. You could have me right here and now.”
Benny jumped up from the couch. “Wait a second. Are you coming on to me?”
“I sure am trying.” Julie was displaying a seductive grin.
“What about our business relationship?”
“I know how to mix business with pleasure.”
“Are you sure?”
“Benny, one thing I know is that when I want something bad enough, I can get it. All I have to do is be persistent. Is it working?”
“Darn right, it is,” said Benny, as he joined Julie on the couch and started kissing her.
Julie backed off. “What was your ex-girlfriend’s name?”
“It’s, um - I can’t think of it.” Benny was hyperventilating.
“That’s all I needed to know,” said Julie, as she grabbed Benny by the arm and led him into the bedroom.
“Wait a second,” said Benny, trying to catch his breath. “I didn’t bring any condoms.”
“Don’t worry,” said Julie. “I always carry one. You can’t be too careful these days.”
Harold’s arm was also being led into a bedroom, this one belonging to Andie. Andie threw him on the bed and jumped on top of him.
“You’re not getting out of this one,” she said.
“Hopefully, I’ll be getting into this one,” he said, as he reached down between her legs. To his delight, Andie wasn’t wearing anything underneath her dress.
“Do me right now, lover,” moaned Andie. She reached down and pulled off her dress. She was naked as she straddled Harold. “We need to get these clothes off you.”
“Gladly,” replied Harold, as he drooled at the sight of her gorgeous body. Andie ripped off the shirt, popping four of the buttons. She pulled off the belt, and then undid the button on his slacks. She grabbed two of the belt loops and pulled his pants off, revealing a pair of boxers. She smiled as she noticed the erection making a tent. Just as she grabbed the elastic band of the boxers to pull them off, Harold’s pager went off.
“Don’t you dare answer it,” said Andie.
“I have to,” said Harold. “Please don’t lose this position.”
“I can’t believe you’re actually going to answer
that page,” said Andie, as she rolled off Harold. He pulled the pager from his pants pocket. It was Peter’s number followed by 911.
“Andie, I’m so sorry. It’s Peter Grimes. I have to call him right away.”
Andie was noticing a pattern beginning. “Okay, I’ll wait right here.”
Harold limped to the front room to call Peter. “What’s the problem?”
“Carlos is on his way over here right now,” said Peter. “He’s getting a little upset about this whole Zipper Down mess. He heard Elderberry on the news.”
“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it right now,” said Harold.
“Oh, yes there is. He wants you to take out Gina again tonight.”
“No way. I’m not going near that…” he realized where he was and lowered his voice, “little monster again.”
“You have to. We have to keep Carlos happy.”
“Do you realize where I am and what I’m about to do?”
“Could it be that you’re at Andie’s apartment and you’re about to screw her?”
“You hit it right on the head.”
“Well, have her do the same and get your ass over to Carlos’ house. He’s expecting you to pick up Gina in thirty minutes.”
“But…”
“No buts on this one. Get over there – now.” Harold put down the phone. His erection was long gone as he walked back into the bedroom. Andie had the covers pulled up to her neck.
“I have to go,” said a dejected Harold.
“I figured that,” said a frustrated Andie.
“It’s Peter. He needs me take care of a problem that can’t wait until morning. If you’d like, I could come over later.”
“Don’t bother. Take care of your little problem and I’ll see you tomorrow.” She pulled Atticus Finch from the floor and held him tight. Harold walked up to Andie to give her a kiss. She turned her head as his kiss landed on her cheek.
“Thank God for the BreastMaster,” said Benny, as he watched Julie strip right in front of him.
“You are so funny,” said Julie. She crawled on top of him in the bed and started kissing him when a knock was heard at the front door.
“Don’t you want to see who it is?” asked Benny.
“Do you?” asked Julie.
“Not particularly.”
“Then don’t worry about it.” Benny’s clothes were coming off, as the knock became more persistent.
“Why don’t you let me get rid of whoever that is,” said Benny. He grabbed the robe hanging on the doorknob. He walked to the front door, opened it, and was greeted to the sight of flashing lights, cameras, and tape recorders.
“Is Kat Barrett the suspect in the murder?” asked one reporter.
“Is Nicholas Pelter the one?” asked another.
“Are you sleeping with Julie Templeton?” asked a third.
“When will the video be released?” asked a fourth.
“Are her breasts real?” asked the last one.
Benny slammed the door shut and called hotel security. He walked back into the bedroom, crawled into bed with Julie, and smiled.
“Who was that?” asked Julie.
“Nobody,” said Benny, as he began to kiss the most exciting woman he had ever seen.
“A bunch of reporters, right?” asked Julie.
“Yeah.”
“You are really learning how to handle all this. I’m so proud of – oh, my God. That’s the spot. Don’t stop.” Two hours later, Julie and Benny came out of the bedroom, dripping in sweat. They sat on the sofa together, drinking water.
“That – was absolutely amazing,” said an exhausted Julie.
“I’m glad you liked it,” said Benny.
“Liked it? I loved it.” Benny was gleaming.
“Do you want to go at it again?”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
He gave her a wicked smile, “No, I’m not.”
“What time is our video shoot tomorrow?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m in charge, so it’ll start as soon as we get there.”
Julie grinned. “Okay, but you know what we have to do first.”
“Sure,” said Benny. “Why don’t you jump in the shower, I’ll make the call and then I’ll join you.”
Julie gave him a kiss and skipped to the shower. Benny made a call to the front desk.
“Hi, this is Benny Myers in the Penthouse Suite. Could you send a dozen condoms to the room ASAP? Yes, I know a six-pack was provided with the room. We found them in the drawer next to the bed, but we seem to have run out. Thank you – oh, and one other thing – make sure those reporters in the lobby spell the name right. It’s M-Y-E-R-S. Thanks.”
Elderberry had tracked down Shanice’s address. He knocked at the door. He was greeted to the sight of a five-foot, four-inch tall African man, wearing a full-face mask and jumping up and down in a grass skirt.
“Be gone, evil demon,” yelled Roshondi. He let out a yell at the top of his voice.
“Look, mister,” said an unfazed Gerome. “I like dressing up in a skirt as much as the next guy, but I don’t go around yelling mumbo-jumbo. Where is Nicholas Pel-tire?”
Roshondi was confused. “I do not understand. The demon dance always works, yet, you are still standing before me.”
“Put a lid on it, Bwana,” said Gerome. “Where is that Pel-tire?”
Shanice came to the door. “How can I help you?”
“First, you can call off the floor show. I’ve had all the entertainment I can take for one week. Next, you can tell me where Nicholas Pel-tire is.”
“He’s on his way to Los Angeles,” said Shanice.
“Los Angeles? When in the hell did he leave?”
“He just took the last flight out.”
“Well, I happen to know you’re wrong, sister. I have Pel-tire’s itinerary and it shows he’s leaving for New Orleans tomorrow morning.”
“You’re more than welcome to check it out yourself. I work for American Airlines. Let me call the airport for you.” She called. “Hello, John? This is Shanice. I have a police officer here that’s looking for Nicholas Peltier. Can you talk to him?” She handed the phone to Gerome.
“This is Lieutenant Gerome Elderberry of the New Lake City Homicide division. This is official business. I need to know where Nicholas Pel-tire is.”
“Let me see here,” said John. “You know we’re really not supposed to do this unless I have proof of identification from a law officer. I’m doing this as a favor to Shanice.”
“Yeah, yeah. Spare me the sentiment and just tell me where the hell Pel-tire is.”
“He took flight 2369 out to Los Angeles, which left twenty-five minutes ago.”
“Goddamn it,” yelled Gerome. “Why is that little shit going to LA?”
“Please don’t use that kind of language in the presence of my wife,” said Roshondi.
“Back off, Bwana Boy,” said Gerome. “Can you get me on a flight with some goddamn other airline?” he said to John.
“I do not like the tone in which you are speaking,” said Roshondi.
“Look, I’m warning you,” he said to Roshondi. “I’m on official goddamn business here.”
“Don’t do it, honey,” said Shanice.
“Don’t do what?” asked Elderberry, just as he felt the strong grip of two hands grabbing his ankles. Roshondi started spinning him around the room, knocking over a lamp and coat-rack. He threw Elderberry out the door, which was still open.
“Do not ever show your face in our presence,” yelled Roshondi, as he slammed the door. Shanice opened it right after.
“If you really want to go to LA this evening, United has a flight that leaves in ninety minutes. You can make it, if you hurry.”
“Thank you – I think,” said Gerome. He got up and hopped into the waiting cab.
“Get me to O’Hare – pronto,” he said to the cabby. The cab driver stared at the beat-up Elderberry. “What the goddamn hells are you looking at? Just driv
e the goddamn cab.”
“Wouldn’t you like to put on your pants first?” asked the cabby. Gerome didn’t notice that when Roshondi tossed him, he had grabbed the cuffs of the pants and held on to them as he tossed him out the door. He looked back at the house and saw Roshondi standing outside, holding the pants. Gerome crept back to the house and grabbed the pants from Roshondi.
“Perhaps you would rather wear this skirt,” laughed Roshondi, as he watched Elderberry stumble, trying to put on his pants while running back to the cab.
Meanwhile, Nick was settling down in his first class seat, on his way to New Orleans.
The Devil's in My Bathroom Page 33