“Women don’t wear mink these days.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Does it matter?”
He slaps his hand against his forehead. “No wonder I can’t get any pussy!”
We laugh. Then I say, “You really think if I bring her flowers she won’t try to have me killed?”
“How the fuck do I know? What I do know is, you give a woman a gift, it forces her to speak to you.”
“She spoke to me today. Many times.”
“Was she mad?”
“Quite the opposite.”
“She catch you cheating?”
“Nope.”
He shrugs. “Women, right?”
“Women,” I say.
We’re quiet a while, two guys in the office of a strip club, wondering how we could possibly know so little about women.
“Don’t tell her I said anything,” Carmine says.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
He nods. We both know it’s important for Gwen to believe she has his confidence.
I say, “She offer you money?”
“For the hit? Nah. We didn’t get that far.”
“Because?”
He looks at me. “I told you.”
“Yeah. We’re friends. I know. But why didn’t you take the hit? You know she’ll inherit money from the estate. Eventually.”
“Don’t dismiss the friendship part so easily.”
I wait.
He says, “The other part is, I got no one good enough. I can’t afford to lose any more shooters.”
Finally. An honest answer.
Carmine says, “Did you know Tony was gonna be here tonight?”
“He’s the one that called when I was on the phone with you. He wants to talk.”
“Do me a favor?”
“Name it.”
“You decide to tear off his other ear, do it outside, okay? Customers see that sort of thing, it’s bad for business.”
“Got it. No tearing off ears inside the club.”
He stares at me a moment. Then says, “How do you do it?”
“What, tear a guy’s ear off?”
“Yeah. What I’m askin’, does it come off clean?”
“With practice.”
He looks at me like a proud father looks at his son after watching him hit a game-winning home run. Then chuckles. “You kids these days. Jeez.”
I smile. Truth is, it only requires seven pounds of pressure to rip a guy’s ear off his head. Take a dozen sheets of typing paper, hold them together with one hand, tear them with the other. That’s an equivalent effort. The trick is to hook your fingers as far behind the ear as possible, grabbing as much tissue as you can. Don’t try to pull the ear off. There’s too much connective tissue. You want to tear from the top of the ear downward. At first you might have problems shearing the entire ear off in one motion. Like I say, it takes practice.
24.
“Let’s take it outside,” Tony says.
We’re standing at the end of the bar. He’s looking past me, watching a young pole dancer. His eyes widen slightly. I turn to follow his gaze. She’s upside down on the pole, doing a split.
“Talented girl,” he says.
I wonder if he’s got some thugs in the parking lot, waiting to ambush me.
“We can talk here,” I say.
“It’s too public. What I want to say requires privacy.”
“Follow me,” I say.
We go down the hall. When we get to the bathroom, I open the door.
“After you,” I say.
“What? We can’t meet in the friggin’ bathroom,” he says.
“Why not? I can keep people out.”
He looks at me like I’m insane. Doesn’t bother me. I probably am insane. He enters the room, I follow close behind. When the door’s closed he says, “Creed.”
“Yeah?”
“Should I call you Donovan?”
I shake my head. Poor, pitiful Tony.
“You’re right,” I say. “Let’s take it outside.”
When we get outside, I motion him to join me in my rental car. He looks around a minute, then climbs in. Before he can speak, I punch his temple and he goes out like a light. I start the car and drive to the edge of the parking lot and wait till traffic is moving at a good clip. Then I floor the gas pedal, squeal the tires, and force my way into the line of fast-moving cars. While I’m doing this I reach over and rip Tony’s shirt open, pull the microphone off his chest, and throw it in the street. Then I cross lanes, reverse direction, and roar past the detectives as they’re leaving the parking lot, heading the wrong way.
When Tony starts coming around, I punch him again. Next time he comes around, we’re in the parking lot of Wildrose Memorial. I get out, walk around the front of the car, open the passenger door.
“Where are we?” Tony says, looking around.
“Quick lesson, sport. Next time you wear a wire, don’t start the conversation by asking the mark his name.”
“They made me say your name like that! We practiced!”
“Yeah? Well, I’ve been practicing, too!”
I pull him out of the car, grab his good ear between my thumb and fingers, and tear it cleanly from his head. It’s a vile, messy business, this ear-tearing thing. Generates far more blood than you’d expect. As Tony starts to go into shock, I hand him his ear and point him toward the E.R.
I start heading to George Best’s house, but get sidetracked by Callie’s phone call.
“Mr. Cohen?” she says. “There are two detectives at my condo. Is there any way you can meet me?”
I look at my watch. “This time of night? They must think they have something.”
Callie says nothing, so I say, “I can come right now, but I don’t have my lawyer business card with me.”
“That’ll be fine,” she says. Then adds, “They don’t understand why you’re representing both Gwen and me.”
I smile. Callie makes it easy to read between the lines. “I’ll be glad to explain it to them when I get there.”
“Thanks, Mr. Cohen.” She tells me her address and what floor she’s located on, since the attorney, Mr. Cohen, wouldn’t know.
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” I say.
