'The red piranha is a Pygocentnis nattereri.'
He dropped a Ball Park hot dog into the tank. It looked like a torpedo sinking in the blue-tinted water, moving past a sunken model ship, an old-time one with cannons and masts and sails.
'They've got 18 percent more lips and snouts this year, hot dogs do,' Megan said. 'According to an article I read in the Free Press.'
'That's gross,' Bobby said. He sipped his cosmo.
It didn't seem to affect Larry's appetite. He was attacking the hot dog now, and the water was cloudy with fragments of meat.
Megan said, 'You ever put mustard on them?'
'I'll have to try that,' Bobby said.
'Why do you only have one fish in this big tank?'
'I used to have a pumpkinseed and a southern redbelly dace, a rainbow darter, a neon tetra and a bunch of other beautiful fish. Larry, the voracious carnivore, ate them all.'
Megan sipped her cosmo. It was strong, like it was all booze. 'Are you trying to get me drunk?'
Bobby wasn't listening now. He said, 'You have beautiful eyes,' staring at her. 'Anybody ever tell you that?' He brushed her cheek with his finger. He had a dreamy look on his face.
Megan put her drink on the coffee table and pulled her sweater up and lifted it over her head and said, 'Where's the bedroom at? I'm not driving all the way back downtown.'
Bobby decided not to say anything to Megan about Samir. She didn't have anything to do with that job, so there was no reason to cut her in. He was at the apartment pool, checking out the action, young professionals letting loose after work on a Friday evening. Bobby lay back in a lounge chair, taking in the scene, talking to a couple of girls. They were drinking vodka and lemonade, watching a muscular guy in a Speedo, posing as he got out of the pool, flexing and sucking in his gut, trying to make it look natural.
The tall skinny girl's name was Nicole something, Bobby wasn't listening that carefully and what the hell difference did it make? She worked in after-sales marketing at Chrysler she told him. The one with the jugs, Kirsten, sold fur coats at a store in Bloomfield Hills. She was going to move to South Beach, her big plan, and was getting retail experience selling mink and sable coats. It seemed an odd choice for someone going to Miami Beach. Bobby wanted to say if the fur job doesn't work out, what're you going to do, try snowmobiles? Bobby finished his drink and poured himself another one out of an orange plastic pitcher.
The muscular guy came over and the girls offered him one. His name was Todd Bendler, a systems analyst at GM. Bobby shook hands with him. He had an iron grip and tried to crush Bobby's fingers. Todd had a deep voice and was very serious when he talked about his job.
'My team's responsible for the M cars, Monte Carlo and Malibu.'
Bobby said, 'What exactly does a systems analyst do?'
'Analyze data,' Todd said.
'Sounds interesting,' Bobby said. He winked at Nicole then closed his eyes and dropped his chin like he was falling asleep.
Nicole smiled and put her hand over her mouth trying to hide it. Todd started talking about GM's Customer Satisfaction Index and Bobby got up from his lounge chair and said he had to go.
Back in his apartment, five o'clock, Bobby made himself a cosmopolitan and checked his messages. Another one from Megan, sounding pissed off.
'I know you're there, pick up the fucking phone. If I don't hear from you-'
Bobby punched erase, rolled a joint and went in the bedroom to get dressed. A few minutes later he danced into the living room with the joint in his mouth, drink in hand, listening to The Black Parade by My Chemical Romance. He heard a knock on the door, thought it might be Nicole, danced over and opened it. Megan came at him, glaring and grabbed the collar of his black Lacoste golf shirt.
'I've left six messages.'
Bobby said, 'You're kidding. Must be something wrong with the machine.'
'I think there's something wrong with you,' Megan said.
'What kind of talk is that? You're my honey girl.' Bobby tried to say it with feeling, but he sounded like a soap opera actor. He wasn't ready for this, hadn't prepared. He put his arms around Megan, still holding the glass and the joint. She pushed him away, spilling the drink, Jesus, on the beige carpeting.
'I did my job,' Megan said, still in his face. 'Now I want my money. It was my idea in the first place.'
Bobby said, 'I have it. What's the problem?' He decided to give her some of his own money rather than try to explain what happened. He was going to be rich soon anyway.
Megan followed Bobby into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, took out an opaque plastic pitcher and pried off the top. There was a white number ten envelope inside. 'It's kind of cold,' Bobby said. 'But it'll warm up once you get to the mall.'
Megan took the money out, a stack of bills, all hundreds, and started counting.
Bobby said, 'Can I get you a drink? How about a nice cosmo? Fix you right up.'
Megan finished counting the money and looked at Bobby. 'You've got to be kidding. This is only $1,500. Where's the rest of it at?'
Bobby gave her a puzzled look.
'The man cashed out with $9,600,' Megan said. 'I know for a fact because I handed it to him.'
'Trust me, I only found $4,500 in the house, and you got a third like we agreed.' He said it straight and serious, trying to hold back the grin that was forming on his mouth.
'Come on,' Megan said. 'That's bullshit and you know it.'
She opened the refrigerator and started dropping things on the floor: a plastic half gallon of milk that slid into the base of the island counter; a carton of eggs that hit and exploded sending yolk and chunks of shell all over the floor and wall.
Bobby said, 'What the hell're you doing?'
'Looking for my money. You owe me $1,700 more.'
He said, 'Lloyd's got it.'
Megan said, 'You expect me to believe a control freak like you is going to let Lloyd keep your share of anything? Come on?'
Bobby was surprised. He'd never seen Megan act like this. She'd seemed different than most of the girls he'd gone out with. Not moody or bitchy or a pain in the ass. The only thing he didn't like were the fucking cats, but she was fun and seemed to get things and liked to drink and she had great tits that Bobby referred to as her fun bags. Everything was good until now. And now all this rage was coming out like he'd hit a nerve, pressed some button that flipped her out, made her lose it. He hoped the thing with the Greek's woman worked out because this sure wasn't. Bobby said, 'Listen, I'll get your money and bring it to you.'
Hearing that calmed her down. She picked up his cosmo off the counter and took a big drink. That seemed to help too.
Megan said, 'My B-my bad… I just…'
Bobby wanted to finish her sentence: 'Went fucking schizo.'
Megan said, 'I didn't hear from you. I was mad. I guess I overreacted.'
She moved to Bobby and put her arms around him, holding him close, not moving now, hugging him.
'You okay?' she said.
Bobby stood there frozen, staring down at the mess on the floor,
Megan clinging to him. She freaked and asked him if he was okay. Huh? Bobby said, 'Sure.' What else was he going to say? 'You don't sound like you mean it,' Megan said. 'Everything's wonderful,' Bobby said, 'tip-top,' putting a little more energy into it.
Chapter Six
Lou Starr was in Vegas at a restaurateurs convention, excited because he was staying at the Wynn. It was
