“I think you know what kind of movies I make,” he said.
“I guess I do. Much money in that?”
“Enough,” he said. “Worried about your pay?”
“Not yet,” I said. “Sounds like an entertaining business. What other lines of work you in?”
“Why should there be anything else?” he said.
“I dunno. I guess some movie producers hire bodyguards. I was just wondering if the movies was all there was.”
“Doesn’t seem like enough?” he asked softly.
I said, “I just wanted to know what my duties might be. Am I just protecting you from irate older brothers, or was there something else you needed done?”
For some reason, he didn’t like that at all.
He didn’t close his eyes, like Rebecca said he had, but they changed, all right. I saw a little light come on way back in them, like the pilot light in an oven.
“You worry about the little sisters, champ?” he said.
It was still a nice voice, but now it didn’t match the eyes. Maybe it wasn’t so nice.
“I don’t worry much,” I said. “I thought it was a pretty simple question.”
“Maybe you’re a bit of a Galahad after all. Is that it?”
“If we’re going to work together, I ought to know something about the business.”
“We weren’t talking about working together, champ. We were talking about you working for me. Right now I don’t think we’re talking about anything.”
“And a minute ago you were full of charm,” I said sadly.
“I’m still full of charm, champ. Maybe I spread it around too thick. Maybe you’ve already had your share.”
“Maybe I could get tired of hearing you decide what my share is.”
“I don’t think I can use you after all,” Halliday said. “I don’t really have a spot right now for someone with your manners.”
The hell, it was over now.
I said, “When I need lessons in manners, junior, I won’t come to you. And don’t think you can give me one on the house. You’re better at running than hitting, remember?”
Halliday nodded slowly, then got up. There’s not many people who can get up off a barstool and look graceful, but he did, sliding the stool gently out of the way behind him with one foot as he went, so he wouldn’t have to bump into it or edge around it. It didn’t seem like a performance, especially, or any more of one than everything else he’d done. He had both hands on the bar, so that his rings made one glittering row, and he looked at them for a moment. He nodded to himself.
“I guess that concludes our program for tonight,” he said.
He got out his wallet and dropped some money on the bar.
“See you, Halliday,” I said. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, looking past me. “So long.”
“So long,” I said.
He walked down to the end of the bar. There was a side door there that led out to the parking lot, and he went out and closed it behind him.
I sat there and finished my drink. I was pretty hot with myself. I’d pushed in too fast and then lost my temper. I ought to have myself under better control than I do. Well, five gimlets. But Jesus, whose cheap date was I that I had to drink them? I guessed it was worth something to have seen that little light in his eyes. To know it was there. It made it that much easier to buy Rebecca’s story. He could get mean, or anyway, look like it. And he could control it better than I do. What else? He didn’t like people thinking he was small-time. Who does? There was something else there, too, about when I’d asked what he wanted me for. But it’d gone by too fast. He was hung up about combat. So are a lot of guys who haven’t seen any. He was pretty bright. Pretty sensitive, for a hood. He thought he was some kind of amateur shrink. So do a lot of people in L.A.. He knew how to get off a barstool without snagging his nylons. I counted the money on the bar. Whatever else he was, he wasn’t a piker. I sighed, shoved my chair back, and headed for the door to the parking lot.
When I got outside, I saw Halliday sitting alone in his car across the lot, the motor running, and two guys in suits standing to my right. I kept walking. Halliday nodded pleasantly and started backing out toward the exit, his elbow on the edge of the open window and his forefinger resting on the top of the side mirror, and the two men in suits stepped in close. One of them wore a watch that was big even for him, with dials and knobs all over it, and the other one had clear brown eyes and the kind of shaped mouth that made you want to trust him. The one with the big watch put a hand on my chest, and I stopped and looked down at it.
“That’s a mistake,” I said. “Undo it.”
“We need to talk a minute, Mr. Rose,” he said.
“You don’t look like much of a conversationalist. Take that hand away.”
“Listen, friend,” he said. “We need to talk about how you talk to people.”
I knocked his hand off.
He leaned in and took hold of my necktie. He got some collar, too. “Listen,” he said.
Maybe it’s because I was such a lousy boxer, but I don’t see the point of going move and countermove with people who ought to know the moves as well as you do. What I’d rather do is upset the board. I gave out a sort of groan and began to sit down, as if I were tired or having an attack, and without thinking the pug tried to pull me back up again by the tie. All two hundred forty-odd pounds of me, one-handed. I almost felt sorry for him. But by that time it was out of my hands, or anyhow, like I’ve said, that’s what I always tell myself, and I came up again fast, grabbing the back of his neck as I went, and broke his nose with my forehead. The pug fell back clutching his face and screaming way back in his throat, and his buddy moved in, but glancing over at his friend instead of tending to business, and I kicked out sideways and broke the buddy’s knee. That would have settled me for a while, but he looked like he wanted to get up again somehow, and I kicked him in the belly, which made him more introspective. By this time the first guy had gotten out his gun and lit off a couple, clutching his face and firing half-blind. That was just plain bad taste. When you’re close enough, you treat a gun like you’d treat a right hook: if you can’t shrug it off, you get inside it. I got inside and yanked his arm the way it was already going and gave him a couple of elbows in the body as he went past, then brought my elbow down on his collarbone when I had a chance. It dropped him on his belly. I stamped on the back of his head and he let go the gun. I dragged him backward until his gun hand was trailing half off the curb of the sidewalk, and then I stamped on his knuckles and felt them go. I stamped again on his fingertips, hoping to get the thumb, or at least break some of his fingers twice, and then I felt something move by my ear and heard a shot from a .38. I stopped.
“You goddamn psycho,” said the guy with the knee. He was down on one elbow with his gun leveled at my chest. “Don’t you move. Don’t you move a lick. I put ‘em where I want ‘em, and the next one’s yours.”
He had the floor.
“You goddamn psycho. What’s the matter with a guy like you? What’s the matter? We weren’t supposed to kill you. We weren’t even supposed to mark you. We were just told to give you a shove and a warning, and look. Look what you turn it into.”
“He threw down on me,” I said.
“None of this had to happen.”
“He threw down on me,” I said. “Next time he’ll have to do it lefty.”
“You’re a goddamn psycho. I had a dog like you, I’d have it put down. The only reason you’re living is, Halliday wouldn’t like I killed someone he didn’t say to. You come at him again, or me, and I’ll forget what Halliday wouldn’t like. Now get going.”
I let him have the curtain line. He hadn’t said anything inaccurate. His colleague was still out, making wet snoring noises. I turned and headed back for my car. In front of the entryway, I saw what looked like a little brocade package on the sidewalk. Lotus Blossom had run out when she heard the shots, hadn’t liked what she’d seen, and had hunkered down hugging her legs, her head tucked against her knees. As my footsteps came closer, her head came up slowly, like someone was pulling it up on a string. Her shiny black eyes were the size of hubcaps, and her mouth was open.