Elmore Leonard: Mr. Paradise

"Cool," Jerome said.

"You don't care for Mexicans?"

"Motherfuckers say they gonna deliver? They gonna rip you off and shoot you they get the chance."

"We're looking for a guy named Orlando," Delsa said, "we think could give us some information."

"I mighta heard the name's all."

"Had a place off Michigan Avenue, behind the old ballpark."

Jerome said, "Yeah, Orlando," nodding his head.

"Also, I mentioned Nashelle's half-brother Reggie Banks? We got a tip he dumped Tyrell's gun for him."

Delsa waited.

"Yeah:?"

"And you might know something about it."

"You didn't get that from Nashelle."

"It was another detective talked to some girl who knows Reggie. I don't have her statement in front of me, but it's in the case file."

"She say I was with him?"

"I don't know, but if you have something to tell me, it comes under what we've been talking about, confidential information."

Jerome said, "Lemme think on it."

Delsa said, "You got ten minutes." He brought a pack of Newports from his desk drawer and offered one to his C.I.

Jerome said, "I thought this was a no-smoking building."

Delsa said, "Only if you get caught."

As soon as they were in the car, still in front of the loft, the guy turned to them in the backseat. He gave her kind of an impatient look, mad, and said to Chloe, "How come nobody let me know?"

Sounding like it was her fault.

Chloe said, "What're you talking about?"

Montez didn't answer. He was a terrible driver, changing lanes in the East Jefferson traffic as he made a call on his cell, Chloe telling him, "Will you watch the fucking road? Jesus." When he didn't get an answer to his call he said, "Fuck," and dropped the phone on the seat next to him.

Behind him in the dark Kelly leaned close to Chloe and said, "You think he's cool, huh?"

Chloe raised her voice saying, "Montez? What's wrong?"

Kelly saw him look at the rearview mirror. He said, "Don't bother your head," and was quiet after that, but kept glancing at them in the mirror.

They arrived at the house, lights shining on its gray stone from the shrubs. Montez stopped in the circular drive and asked Chloe how long she thought they'd be.

"It's up to Tony," Chloe said. "You know that."

Montez said, "See if you can cut your bullshit cheerleading short this evening."

As soon as they were inside Chloe brought Kelly through a hallway to the living room and introduced her to Mr. Paradiso, the old man seated in his chair that was like a cushy love seat facing a TV console. He said, "So you're Kelly," smiling at her but didn't get up. Kelly had to lean in to kiss his cheek and felt his liver-spotted hand slip into her coat to close on her breast, the left one, inside a cotton sweatshirt. As she straightened he said, "What're you wearing that sweater for?"

"I have a cold," Kelly said. "But, hey, it's from the University of Michigan," gave him a darling smile and said, "go blue."

Chloe sat on his rickety lap to kiss him on the mouth and he slipped both hands into her coat saying, "Here my little cheerleaders."

"If you're a good boy," Chloe said to him, "I'll let you paint my M on." She brought a blue Magic Marker out of her coat and put it in his hand. "Want to?"

Kelly thinking, I'm gonna be sick.

She was aware of Montez hanging back, not saying anything to the old man. Lloyd the houseman appeared, took their drink order and Montez followed him out of the room. He was back in a few minutes opening a bottle of Christiania vodka; he freshened the old man's drink and left the bottle in the ice bucket, on a table close by. Now he seemed to wander around, antsy. Kelly watched him go through the hallway to the foyer and stand by the front double doors with their etched-glass panels, pale rose in the dark wood.

Mr. Paradise said, "There," as he finished applying Chloe's M, a crude letter below her perfect breasts. He turned his head and Kelly saw he was looking toward Montez in the foyer, Montez returning now to the living room.

The old man said, "The hell you doing skulking around?"

Montez gave him a dumb look, surprised, said, "Nothing," and held up empty hands.

Chloe said, "He's pissed he had to pick us up."

The old man said, "No, no, it takes more than that to get under Mr. Montez Taylor's skin. He has a great capacity for taking shit, knows how to accept it and grin. But I did find his pissed-off threshold. I was gonna give him this house, help him with his social acceptability. I don't mean it as a racial thing, Indian Village is half colored anyway. No, what I'm saying is Mr. Taylor could put on the dog and be accepted as a colorful character-no pun intended. But, can he earn a living once I'm gone? Pay the taxes? Keep the place up? I realized the obligation would be too much for him. He'd sell the house and spend the money on having a good time. So my granddaughter Allegra will get it. Live here or sell the property and put her kids through college. I told Mr. Taylor I'd changed my mind, then watched his chagrin rise and boil over when I told him he'd be taken care of by my son Tony. Now Mr. Taylor was so pissed off he insults me by insulting my son."

Chloe said, "Oh, it can't be that bad. You know yourself Tony Jr.'s not"-she hesitated, the old guy staring at her-"well, not as congenial as you are."

He said, "You're close to getting in trouble yourself," and moved his gaze to Montez. "You deny it?"

Montez said, "Deny what?"

And Kelly had to look at him; he sounded different, at ease now, in no hurry.

"That you insulted my son."

"You insult me in your own way," Montez said, "and it's okay. Calling me Mr. Taylor. Meaning I'm uppity, have no business saying anything against your boy. Meaning I can't say anything to you one man to another."

Still with the quiet tone, in no hurry.

"Like you said to me this evening you're watching your show. You said I forget who I am. Meaning, my place. Like I had talked back to you."

Kelly watched, surprised he could be so calm giving it back to his boss. She heard the old man say, "Montez," and turned to see Mr. Paradiso raise his hand to wave Montez off, like telling him to forget it.

"Okay, let's say we were both pissed off-and I'm not supposed to let anything bother me, doctor's orders. I know who you are, you're my number one, Montez, my walking-around guy. Okay?"

He let it hang there until Chloe said, "And you're our Mr. Paradise."

Lloyd brought them alexanders in crystal lowball glasses they took upstairs with their coats and handbags. They'd have a cigarette and a drink while they fooled with their makeup, did something with their eyes. Chloe led the way to a bedroom. They put their coats on the bed and went in the bathroom and looked at themselves in the mirror, Kelly saying, "'And you're our Mr. Paradise.'" She leaned over the sink and poked a finger into her open mouth a few times.

"It's what you do," Chloe said, "you're a mistress."

"What do you think Montez said to him?"

"He probably called Tony Jr. an asshole. You're keeping the sweatshirt on?"

An extra-large that Chloe loaned her and hung below her cute skirt.

"If it was just the old guy I might take it off. I'm not showing my tits to the help."

"Because they're colored guys?"

"I went with a black guy once, a professor at Wayne, an intellectual type. He really was, but he said 'You understand what I'm saying?' about every other sentence. I think to let me know he was street before he got educated, knows wazzup."

Chloe said, "I've usually had a good time with colored guys. When they're cool they're really cool. Like Montez, the way he gave it back. That was cool."

"Yeah, well, I broke up with my black guy, he was so fucking boring. I said, 'Look, just assume I understand what you're saying. If I don't, I'll tell you.' And, yes, I'm wearing the sweatshirt."