Catlett hunched over to rest his arms on his thighs, the seat of Yayo’s khakis hanging slack before him, Yayo between him and the dude in the wool shirt now.
“That’s a federal officer of some kind, most likely DEA. He moves his leg look for the bulge. You savvy bulge? Something stuck to his ankle, underneath his pants. His backup piece . . .
Come out here you should always take some pills first, keep your blood pressure cool.
“You know he’s there, now forget about him. While you wondering where your relatives are, suppose to meet you, I’m getting up. Gonna leave you and walk over to the cocktail lounge. After I’m gone, you sit down in this same seat I’m in. You feel something under your ass it’s the key to a locker where your money is. But before you go open the locker you look around good now, understand? You don’t want any guys have bulges on their ankles watching you. Take your time, go have a snack first. You know what a snack is?”
Yayo turned his head to one side. “You suppose to give me the focking money yourself.”
Catlett got up, adjusted his dove-gray double-breasted jacket, smoothing the long roll lapel. He said, “Try to be cool, Yahoo,” turning to pick up the ticket envelope and attache case. “I was to hand you this fulla money we’d be speed-cuffed before we saw it happen. Do it how I told you and have a safe trip home. Or as you all say,
Down in Baggage Claim, Catlett stood away from the Bear and his little girl waiting at one of the carousels, the Bear looking at the numbers on the claim check that told him which bag coming out of the chute would have ten keys of cocaine in it. Seventeen thousand a key this month, a hundred and seventy grand waiting in the locker, the money plus some product they were returning: a whole key stepped on so many times it was baby food. No prob
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lem if Yayo was careful, looked around before he opened the locker. The trouble with this business, you had to rely on other people; you couldn’t do it alone. Same thing in the movie business, from what Catlett had seen, studying how it worked. The difference was, in the movie business you didn’t worry about somebody getting turned to save their ass and pointing at you in court. You could get fucked over in the movie business all kinds of ways, but you didn’t get sent to a correctional facility when you lost out. The movie business, you could come right out and tell people what you did, make a name. Instead of hanging out on the edge, supplying highs for dumb-ass movie stars, you could get to where you hire the ones you want and tell ’em what to do; they don’t like it, fire their ass. It didn’t make sense to live here if you weren’t in the movie business. High up in it.
The Bear came away from the carousel carrying his little girl and a Black Watch plaid suitcase. Catlett followed them outside, through the traffic in the covered roadway that was like an underpass to one of the islands where people were waiting for shuttles in daylight. The little girl said, “Hi, Bo,” to Catlett coming up to them.
Catlett, smiling, said, “Hey, Farrah. Hah you, little honey bunny? You come see the big airplanes?”
“I been on airplanes,” Farrah said. “My daddy takes me to Acapulco with him.”
“I know he does, honey bunny. Your daddy’s good to you, huh?”
Little Farrah started to nod and the Bear nuzzled her clean little face with his beard saying, “This here’s my baby sweetheart. Yes her is. Arn’cha, huh? Arn’cha my baby sweetheart?”
“Man, you gonna smother the child.” Catlett raised the little girl’s chin with the tips of his fingers. She seemed tiny enough to get lost in that shaggy beard, one tiny hand hanging on to it now, her tiny body perched on the Bear’s arm. The Bear was going to fat but had taught bodybuilding at one time, worked as a movie stuntman and had choreographed fight scenes. Catlett thought of the Bear as his handyman.
“You know that place they use to shoot
“Yeah, up by La Cienega.”
“Harry Zimm’s office is right across the street, white building, you see venetian blinds upstairs. I need to get in there, pick up a movie script. If you could meet me there tonight, open the door . . .”
“You want, Bo, I’ll go in and get it.”
“No, you do the B part and I do the E.”
“I know that,” Farrah said in her tiny voice. “A, B, E, C, D.”
Catlett was smiling again. “Hey, you a smart little honey bunny, ain’cha?”
“Yes her is,” the Bear said.
12 
Chili reached Tommy Carlo at the barbershop but didn’t get a chance to talk about
Tommy said, “I been wanting to call you, but you didn’t gimme a number. Ray Bones is looking for you. He’s got some kind of bug up his ass, can’t sit still. He kept after Jimmy Cap about he wants to go to L.A. till Jimmy tells him to go ahead and fuckin go, he’s tired hearing about it.”
Chili was at the desk in Karen’s study, the chair swiveled so that his back was to Harry, across the room. Harry was sitting on the floor; he had the cabinet in the bookcase open and was going through magazines.
Chili said, “You hang out with Jimmy Cap now?” keeping his voice low.
“I happen to be by there when they’re talking, I notice Bones, how he’s acting.”
“You pay him the eight yet?”
“Fuck no, he’ll get it when he gets it. Chil, it doesn’t have nothing to do with money, you know that. I hate to say I fuckin told you, but I did. I told you, don’t start nothing with him that time.”
“You said don’t say nothing, and I didn’t.”
“No, you broke his fuckin nose instead.”
Talking about something that had happened twelve years ago, still hanging over him. “The guy only has room in his brain for one thing,” Chili said, “that’s the problem, he’s a fuckin idiot.”
“He don’t like the way you talk to him. You ever showed him any kind of respect at all, he wouldn’t be on your ass.”
“I should’ve hit him a half-inch lower that time, with the thirty-eight. You think he’s coming out, uh?”
“I know he is. He asked me where you’re staying. I told him I didn’t know. I still don’t.”
“When’s he coming?”
“He never said, but I think the next couple days.”
Getting into the kid stuff again and sounding stupid, hearing himself, Jesus, like he was reverting, talking like those hard-ons sitting around their social clubs.
“Wait a minute,” Chili said. “How’s he know I’m here?”
“I told him you went out to Vegas on a collection job and they sent you to L.A.”
“What’d you tell him that for?”
“He already knew it. I don’t know how unless— did you talk to the drycleaner’s wife since you’re out there? What’s her name, Leo’s wife? I know Bones went to see her and maybe she mentioned it. This was yesterday.”
“Tommy? What makes you think I told Fay I was going to Vegas?”
“I don’t know—it musta been something Bones said. I just assumed.”
“I’ll call you back,” Chili said, hung up and dialed information to get the number of Paris
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Cleaners in North Miami. Fay answered the phone. Chili asked her how she was doing. He was going to take his time, ease into it, but Fay started talking right away, sounding anxious to tell him.
“A man came to see me said was a friend of yours? He asked had I spoken to you since Leo was killed and I said yes, I had. He asked what it was we talked about. I said oh, nothing in particular, and he hit me with his fist. I have a black eye and my jaw hurts something awful, I try to eat on that side? It might be broken. When I get off I think I’ll go the doctor’s and see about it.”
“Fay? You told him what we talked about?”
“He asked had I given you any money and then, yeah, he made me tell him. If I didn’t he was all set to beat me up.”
“I mean, you told him Leo was alive?”
