Chili watched two young ladies walking up the middle of the studio street: long blond hair, miniskirts, a couple of Miss Californias.
“I found him, Harry.”
Harry said, “Where?” jumping on it, twisting around in that tight space between the seat and the steering wheel.
“What’s the difference where? I took the money off him and sent it to his wife.”
“You didn’t.”
“Three hunnerd grand. I kept ten for Bones, if I decide to pay him.”
“You had the money in your hand?”
“Take it easy, Harry.” The guy looked like he might go berserk. “I didn’t have to tell you, ’cause it isn’t any your business, is it? But I did. Okay, so forget it.”
“Three hundred thousand.” Now he was shaking his head, still not looking too stable. “I don’t know what good you’re doing me.”
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“I don’t raise money for you, Harry, that was never in the deal.”
“What deal? I’d like to know what you do for me.
“You telling me you’d use Leo’s money? Take a chance of him getting picked up—’cause he will, I know it. The first thing he’d do then is try and lay it on us, the whole con, and throw his wife in too.”
Harry, staring straight ahead now, didn’t say anything. He looked uncomfortable, his suit too tight for him.
Chili got out and held the door open as Karen approached the car. He couldn’t tell anything by her expression. When she got close to him, before ducking inside, she said, “The visual fabric of the theme? You might just make it, Chil.”
He got in back. Harry started the car but didn’t move, looking at Karen. “You want to tell me what that was about?”
“Elaine’s going to call Michael,” Karen said. “If he shows enough interest and you have the script revised, she’ll put it into development.”
“Fucking studios,” Harry said, “they can’t give you a simple yes or no, they have to intrigue it up. Why’d she tell you that and not me?”
“That wasn’t why she asked me to stay,” Karen said, and paused and said in a quieter tone, “Elaine offered me a job.”
Harry squinted at her. “As what?”
“Production exec. Maybe vice-president in a year.”
Harry said, “Jesus Christ, I don’t believe it.”
Chili reached over the seat to touch Karen’s shoulder. He said, “Nice going,” and just for a second she laid her cheek against his hand.
21 
The last person Catlett would ever imagine having a tender feeling toward was Marcella, the woman that kept the limo service going. But he had one today. Walked in from the garage through the working office where Marcella looked up from her computer to say, “Mr. Zimm has been trying to get hold of you,” and Bo Catlett wanted to hug her.
He said, “You don’t mean to tell me.”
“He didn’t leave a message. He’ll call back.”
“When?”
“I don’t know, but he sure called a buncha times,” this big doll in her pink outfit and pink-frame glasses said. Just then the phone rang on Marcella’s desk. He watched her pick it up and say, “Wingate Motors Limited,” dainty for a woman her size, the way she moved, the way she held her fifty-year-old head of golden hair. He had never noticed this before. Marcella said, “Yes, Mr. Catlett’s here. Just a moment, please.” Looked at him and nodded and this time he wanted to kiss her.
He took it in Ronnie’s office, feet up on the desk, ankles crossed, looking at his shiny Cole-Haan
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loafers as he said, “Harry, I was thinking of calling you, man. How you doing?”
Harry said just great. The way he always did, sitting on the other side of this desk times before, here to ask for investment money—oh, everything was just great— though he did happen to have a few points left over if they wanted in. A few points meaning half the budget for the movie. In financial shit up to his chin, no doubt as he was at this moment, Harry was just great.
“We got a deal going at Tower . . .”
“On Mr. Lovejoy?”
“They’re extremely high on it.”
“I hear you got Michael Weir.”
“Boy, this town. Word gets around, doesn’t it?”
“So how can I help you?”
“I’m looking for a little working capital.”
“Like how much?”
“Couple hundred.”
“What’s wrong with using the money we put in Freaks?”
“That’s in escrow, I can’t touch it.”
Meaning the man had spent it. So for the time being Catlett resigned himself to forget it. Move on to bigger things.
“You offering a participation in Lovejoy?”
“A small one, considering it’s a twenty-milliondollar shoot, minimum. Maybe twenty-five.”
“So we’re talking about like one percent.”
“Around there.”
“Or less.”
“Tell me what you want,” Harry said. “Let’s see if we can work it out.”
Listen to him. Cool for a man who was desperate or wouldn’t have picked up the phone. “I was about to call you, Harry.”
“Is that right?”
“Tell you how much I like Lovejoy.”
“You read it?”
“I think so much of it, man, I’m prepared to make you a deal you might not believe. But I also want to participate actively. You understand what I’m saying? I want to work on the movie with you, be part of it, man.”
“I’d like to know where you got hold of a script.”
“Harry, let’s me and you meet someplace and have a drink. I’ll tell you how you can put your hands on a hundred and seventy thousand and you won’t have to give me any points or pay interest on it. You pay me back at your convenience. How’s that sound?”
“You serious?” Harry said.
No mention now of the script.
“Where you want to meet?” Catlett asked him.
“I don’t care,” Harry said. “Where do you?”
After going around on that Catlett called the Bear, named a restaurant and asked him to be there in half an hour. When Catlett left, going out through the working office where Marcella the pink woman sat behind her computer, he wondered what it was like to go to bed with a woman you would never think of going to bed with, if it was different.
A Mexican in a white busboy coat and crummy-looking pants brought drinks to them on Karen’s patio. She sounded different, so polite saying, “Thank you, Miguel. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The Mexican didn’t say anything. He was bowlegged and had big gnarled hands on him. After Miguel went in the house Karen said, “Would you think he’s only in
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his forties? He’s been a migrant farm worker all his life. He came by one day asking to do yard work and I hired him as my houseman.”
Chili sipped his drink and said, “Jesus, I don’t think he put any tonic in this. It’s good though.”
“Miguel’s learning,” Karen said, and looked up at the trees. “It’s nice out here, isn’t it? This is my favorite time of the day.”
She sounded different this evening. Neither of them said anything for a minute or so, looking at the trees and the sky changing color. It reminded Chili a little of sitting with Fay as it got dark and they waited for Leo to come home; except Leo and Fay didn’t have a swimming pool. He had thought they were waiting for Harry—the plan, to go out to dinner—till Karen said Harry had already stopped by. Changed his mind, made a phone call and left. Still upset about the meeting, among other things.
Chili took the “among other things” to mean him. “He doesn’t think I’m doing anything for him.”