“Congratulations,” Helen said. “Now that you’re a millionaire, will you get yourself a chauffeur?”
“I’m not a millionaire.” He belched. “I’m not in the goddamn will. Kiki promised me a million bucks. She said that to all the boys. I knew that. But I thought I was different. Turned out she lied. She never had any of us in her will. She wasn’t going to waste money on legal fees every time she got a new fucking chauffeur. Or a fucking new chauffeur.”
He took a drink, then looked confused. “Where was I? Oh, yeah. I’m out of the will. All that for nothing. I’m just another dumb hooker.”
“I’m sorry,” Helen said.
“Not as sorry as I am,” he said. “You didn’t stick your—”
“Uh, did she lie to everybody?” Helen interrupted quickly.
“Whadya mean, everybody?” Rod said, turning belligerent. “Who you calling everybody?”
“She was supposed to leave a hundred thousand dollars to Chauncey for his playhouse and thirty million to her daughter.”
“Chauncey got his. Never had to screw her, either. Just kiss her ass. Desiree got hers, too. That means Luke has it all—and no mother-in-law.”
“Kiki was some mother-in-law, all right.”
“Huh, you don’t know the half of it. She wasn’t going to let Luke make that movie.”
“I heard,” Helen said. “That was his big break.”
“Kiki said no son-in-law of hers was going to play a retard on the big screen. Only reason Luke was marrying that girl was to get enough money to take his career to the next phase. Luke was so mad he wanted to kill Kiki.”
“How do you know that?”
“I heard them arguing. But he would have told me. We were like this.” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger and stuck his shaky finger through it.
“You and Luke were lovers?”
“Yeah. We met at the theater. I decided to take this role as a chauffeur and act like I enjoyed banging an old bag. He played Romeo to the dreary daughter. We both whored for money. But he got it and I didn’t. He’s a good whore. I’m a bad one.” His self-contempt was corrosive.
“When did you hear the fight?”
He belched and stared straight ahead until Helen brought him back. “The fight, Rod. Where was it?”
“In the restaurant parking lot after the rehearsal dinner. Desiree was still inside with her bridesmaids. Luke and Kiki were out by the Dumpsters. Good place for trash like her. You know she never wore panties?”
“Yes,” Helen said.
“Me, too. The hard way. Hard way. That’s a joke.” His laughter sounded more like crying.
“About Kiki.”
“Kiki. I hope she’s somewhere hot and it isn’t Florida. You want to hear something really pathetic? I actually liked her. No, I’m drunk. I should tell the truth. In beero veritas.” He had another gulp of beer. “I started out doing it for the money, but I ended up loving her.”
Helen stared. She couldn’t imagine anyone loving Kiki.
“I’m not bullshitting you. That little woman had big balls. She made me feel like a stud.”
“We thought the two of you were having marathon sex in the Rolls the morning of the wedding,” Helen said. “What were you doing in there, anyway?” She figured Rod was drunk enough he might tell her.
“Oh. That.” Rod belched delicately. “She didn’t come home the night before. The housekeeper and I thought Kiki spent the night with some guy. She did that more and more. I drove to the church, figuring the guy already took her there. I sat in the car, getting up the courage to go inside and see if she was with her new chauffeur. I ran the air conditioning in the Rolls. I wasn’t supposed to do that if she wasn’t in the car. But I wanted to look good. I was afraid she’d lost interest in me. What a fool. She never cared in the first place. She was one hot geezer babe, too. Joke’s on me. The hot old babe left me cold. Didn’t give me a nickel. Did I tell you that?”
“Yes,” Helen said. “I’m really sorry. You were talking about a fight with Luke?”
“Oh, yeah. She told Luke no movies. Luke said then there would be no wedding. Kiki said if he didn’t marry her daughter, she’d ruin him with every agent and acting company from Miami to New York. She could do it, too.”
“And if he did marry, he’d never act again,” Helen said.
“Riiiiiiiight. Oh, he could go back to it after Desiree got her own money, but that would be ten years, and the momentum would be gone. His looks, too. Luke’s career was starting to take off. If he handled things right, he could go national. Movie parts and theater roles in national companies. If he waited ten years, he’d be doing local stuff the rest of his life. Kiki gave him one of those choices—the lady or the tiger.”
“This time, the lady was a tiger,” Helen said.
“Riiiiiight. Except he picked door number three. A dead Kiki. Solved everything for everybody, except me.”
“Do you think he killed Kiki?”
“If he didn’t”—he hiccupped—“he should have. But it could have been that other guy she had the fight with.”
“What other guy?” Helen said.
“Didn’t see him. Didn’t hear much, except he was real mad. That one was at the church. I had to take the Rolls back over there. Then she sent me home.
“She’s an evil little woman. Looking all sad and talking all soft. Had me thinking about crazy stuff I never would have considered. Almost did it, too.”
Rod suddenly stood up. “I’m gonna be sick.” He sprinted for the bathroom.
“You better go, miss,” the bartender said. “I’ll make sure Rod gets home.”
Chapter 13
The cops thought she was a killer. Her romance was on the skids. Her job was drying up. Her mother was going to marry Lawn Boy Larry.
Helen had one consolation: It wasn’t snowing.
This morning was a sunny seventy-two degrees. Helen poured herself a cup of coffee, grabbed the paper, and sat by the pool.
A soft breeze playfully flapped the front page as she read the headlines. Kiki’s murder had been preempted by a vicious snowstorm that hit the East Coast. Like all Floridians, Helen read the reports of stranded motorists, ice- slick roads, and power outages with satisfaction.
Her life might be a mess, but she didn’t have to shovel her car out of a snowbank.
The day seemed less sunny when she read the want ads. In some ways, an arrest would solve her problems. She’d have a place to sleep and three meals. Helen knew Millicent would probably have to fire her. There was still no business.
What was she going to do? More than a quarter of Florida workers were “working poor,” people who made less than eight dollars an hour. Helen was one of them. When she lost her job, she’d be just poor. All she had was seven thousand dollars stashed in a Samsonite suitcase. That wouldn’t go far.
The want ads had plenty of high-paying jobs for exotic dancers, escorts, and lingerie models. Keeping your clothes on didn’t pay nearly as well. The best Helen could find was an ad for “medical receptionist, must be bilingual, $7 an hour.” Helen doubted her high-school Spanish counted as a second language.
A job in a dentist’s office promised “competitive pay to commiserate with experience.”
I’d like someone to commiserate with my experience, Helen thought.
Wait! This job looked promising: “Ground-floor opportunity in the advertising industry. No training required. $6.25 plus commission and meals.”
The pay was less than she made now, but free meals would make up for it. Helen wondered if the company would pay her in cash under the table. It was worth checking. She needed Margery’s phone.
