It was this metaphorical cliff Pete was thinking of when he pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket, pulled off the glove of his free hand with his teeth, navigated open the screen of contacts, and tapped Jimmy’s cell phone number.
5
PETE WATCHED THE FAMILIAR WHITE blur of Jimmy originate from the dark, then solidify as he approached.
His arms were spread out wide, his face smiling but haggard, his blue Dodger cap missing so that his black hair hung limply on his forehead, down his temples, his crown hidden by the familiar white hood pulled up and over his pate. His beard was tangled and oddly greasy. His white teeth cut through sallow skin like a crescent moon, the glint in his brown eyes distant stars behind the reflective lenses of his glasses. “Hey, Pete,” he said. “I have arrived, as requested.” He dropped his arms, stuck his hands into the pouch of his hoodie, and waited.
“You bring the money?”
Jimmy hesitated. “It’s a lot of money, and I don’t have it on me—”
“Fucking hell, man,” Pete said.
“—but can get it. Easy-peasy. But, come on, man. No offense, but if you think I’m walking to a deserted parking lot with five grand in my pocket so you and a couple of your buddies can jump me and dump me …. I mean … I’m dumb but I’m not stupid, you know?”
Pete nodded. It wasn’t the worst point. He’d been nervous on the phone. Insistent but coy, not wanting to divulge the opportunity while pushing its value as best able. “A once in a lifetime kind of thing, but the door’s closing fast, and this one will cost you big.”
He looked at Jimmy, sighed, and wondered if Holly Pages had woken up. If the deal was blown. He shrugged, decided it was now or never. “Look,” he said, then turned to glance back toward the trailers, then back to Jimmy. “She’s in her trailer.”
Jimmy’s eyes popped wide, his teeth sucked into a dark oval as his jaw drooped.
“She’s drunk,” Pete continued. “Passed out. Like … out cold.”
“Oh my god ….” Jimmy mumbled, and his face went lax, as if he’d seen an angel unfurl from the cracked concrete.
“Five minutes, five grand,” Pete said. “Yes or no?”
Jimmy licked his lips, and Pete felt a wave of revulsion. For Jimmy, and for himself. So, the freak gets to go rub himself all over a drunk actress for a few minutes and soil his pants, Pete thought, convincing the sickened side of him. What’d Holly Pages ever do for me? Besides, everyone knows she’s a slut.
Still, Pete had come up with some ground rules: No removing of clothes. No touching her mouth—with anything. And most importantly, no pictures. The last thing Pete needed was some selfie showing up on Facebook of Jimmy and a passed-out Holly Pages in her trailer. The trailer that Pete was supposed to be guarding. Protecting.
Pete waited and Jimmy stared dumbly toward the trailers, his tongue working over his lips, his hands jostling in his hoodie pouch like trapped weasels.
“Well?”
Jimmy’s eyes snapped back to Pete and Pete didn’t like what he saw. The eagerness of a junkie looking at a fix.
“Yeah, man. Are you fucking kidding? Yeah … I’m in. I’m in. I’m in,” he said as he looked past Pete, to where the object of all his obsessions lay prone and waiting. Helpless.
“Great. So go get five grand and hopefully she’ll still be here when you get back.”
Jimmy looked at Pete like he was crazy, then gave him a maniac grin. A laugh hacked out of him—a high-pitched, bird-like squawk that gave Pete immediate second thoughts. He’s insane, he thought, knowing it might very well be true.
“Dude, I was fucking with you. Just being careful, you know? I had no idea…” Jimmy reached into the pocket of his baggy jeans, pulled out not a fold of bills, but a roll of bills. Hundreds. He handed it to Pete like he was giving him a dish rag he’d found on the kitchen floor. “Here, here…”
Pete took the roll, thought about counting it, but knew it would be there. Money was nothing to this guy. The unattainable was all he wanted, and now Pete was giving it to him on a platter.
“Okay, we’re good.” Pete stuffed the roll into his own front pocket, the bulge of it, the weight of it, reassuring him. He felt like he’d put a new truck in his pocket, and it felt fine. “But first, some ground rules.”
Jimmy nodded, uncaring, wanting his fix. “Fine, fine ….”
Pete laid them out anew. Adding only, “And your phone stays with me. No fucking selfies.”
Jimmy only continued to nod. “Of course. I just want … I just want to sit with her man. Like … sit next to her. I won’t move anything. And you know … Shit man. I’m not a rapist or whatever. But it will be nice to spend some time with her.”
Pete said nothing for a moment, then finally shook his head, the decision made. “Yeah, whatever. Okay, let’s go.” Pete headed for the trailer, Jimmy in tow. When they reached the door, Pete started up the stairs.
“Wait … what are you doing?”
Pete turned, the trailer leaning sluggishly under his weight. “What do you mean? I’m going in.”
Jimmy shook his head, his foot tapping restlessly, his hands squirming in the pouch again. “No man, no deal. I want to be alone with her.”
Pete gave a mocking laugh, stepped down onto the pavement. “Are you kidding me? No fucking way. That’s not the deal.”
Jimmy nodded, as if expecting this, then reached a hand into his back pocket, pulled out a thick black wallet. He opened it, removed a sheath of bills.
“Two grand. It’s all I got. Five minutes … alone.”
Pete reached out, took the bills. These he counted, almost in disbelief. Seven grand? In a daze, Pete nodded, the last of him falling away into the night. “Five minutes. I’ll be right here timing you.”
Without a word, Jimmy stepped up to the door, turned the handle, and pulled it open with the comfort and assurance of a guy coming home.
