Jeff Lindsay - Dexter's Final Cut

Robert shrugged. “He’ll be here later,” he said. “He’s never on time.”

It seemed to me like a strange habit for someone in show business, and I grew up in Miami, where Cuban time is a universal standard, and showing up early means you’re only twenty minutes late. “Why not?” I said.

Robert made a sort of what’d-you-expect face. “He’s a comedian ,” he said, like that explained everything.

“Well,” I said. “As long as he’s here for lunch.”

“Oh, he won’t miss lunch,” Robert said. He snorted, adding, “He won’t pay for it, either.”

That was fine with me, as long as Robert paid for it. And I was just as happy not to have Renny there, since I still couldn’t decide what he was. So Robert and I spent the next ninety minutes going over gas chromatography, and then, just as advertised, Renny wandered in, wearing the same Metallica T-shirt, but a different pair of faded, low-slung madras shorts.

“Greetings,” he said, slouching to a stop with one side of his butt perched on the lab’s counter.

“Hey,” Robert said. “Aren’t you supposed to say ‘what up’ or something?”

Renny stared at Robert with his head tilted, one eyebrow raised and one lowered. “You gonna teach me how to talk black , Robert?” he said. “Damn, that’s great; I been wanting to learn that.”

“Ha!” said Robert, a very artificial sound, even for him. “Okay. My bad. Hey! Take a look at this, Ren.” He held up the graph we had been looking at. “Gas chromography,” he said, pronouncing it carefully even though he was mangling it.

“Uh-huh,” Renny said. “You want to graph my gas, you’re going to be pretty busy.” He crossed his arms and looked very pleased with himself, which in my opinion was not justified by the feeble joke. But he stared at both of us with that smug expression anyway, until I was ready to fling a microscope at his head, and Robert finally said, “What’s up, Renny?”

Renny smiled broadly. “Just come from a production meeting,” he said. “For my special .”

“Your what?” Robert said. “When did you get a special?”

Renny looked at him and shook his head pityingly. “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, don’t you read anything but the Advocate ?”

“Aw, come on, Ren.…”

“ ’Cause it was all over the trades, Bobby.”

“Um, not, you know,” Robert said. “I guess I didn’t see it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Renny said. “You don’t read it unless your name is in there.”

“Heh, heh, yeah, okay,” Robert said. “But when does it tape?”

“Saturday night,” Renny said, looking very pleased.

“Saturday- this Saturday night?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?” Robert said. He looked so very alarmed that I had to assume Special Taping was some kind of threat to him personally. “I mean, hey, that’s great, but I mean, you can’t leave, or-you have to be here for the show, right?”

Renny stared at him with a superior expression-not hard, since Robert was practically hyperventilating. “Bobby,” Renny said.

“It’s Robert,” Robert said automatically.

“Bobby, you been sniffing that fart analyzer too long. Don’t you know shit about showbiz?”

I had to give Renny very small props for extending his gas joke by turning gas chromatography into fart analysis, but Robert did not seem to notice. “I mean, sure, it’s great for you,” Robert said, rubbing his hands together unconsciously, “but we have to start shooting, and … does the network know about this?”

Renny showed him a large selection of gleaming teeth. “Yup,” he said. “Their idea.”

“What?!” Robert said.

Renny let him suffer for a second longer before saying, “My special is on Big Ticket Network.” He pointed at Robert, still smiling. “That’s the same network the show is on. Did you know that, Robby?”

Robert turned pale. “Shit,” he said. “They pulled the plug on us.”

Renny laughed. In spite of his near-constant joking, this was the first time I’d heard him do that, and I was very glad he had kept it to himself until now. It was a high-pitched laugh, but not terribly merry; the sound of it made me a little uneasy, and I felt a small sympathetic stirring from the Passenger.

But Renny laughed on for several seconds, clapping his hands to keep time, before he finally took pity on Robert. “Oh, Bobby. Oh, Bert. Man. It’s always about you, isn’t it?” He laughed louder, which truly set my nerves on edge. It didn’t seem to reassure Robert, either. “Oh, man. The actor’s life just plain sucks, doesn’t it? Got you all fucked up in the head.”

“I don’t think it’s funny,” Robert said. “Because, you know. This show is very … I’ve put a lot of my eggs into this …” He frowned and shook his head, and then looked at Renny with very faint hope on his face. “I mean-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Renny said, “way back when, I was supposed to do the special in Vegas.” He showed his teeth again. “But then I land this part? And so Mr . Eissen says, ‘Let’s shoot it in Miami and use it to promo the show.’ ” He raised one eyebrow at Robert. “Could mean my part gets a little bigger. I know you like big parts, Bo.”

“Robert,” Robert said.

Renny ignored him. “ So -we tape it here, this Saturday night, with the whole cast in the house. I say I’m here in Miami to tape the show. Make a joke about all the bodies we got to work with here. Camera cuts to Jackie Forrest laughing her sweet white ass off at … moi .” He raised both hands, palms up. “Everybody gets a plug. Everybody happy.”

“Why Jackie?” Robert said. I was glad to see he had already moved on to his next neurotic worry. “Why does she get on camera? I mean, I can laugh harder than she can any day.”

Renny looked at Robert, shook his head, and then turned to me. “Glad you’re here, Dexter,” he said. “Robert’s just too easy.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you,” I said, “but what does all this mean in English?” And because he was staring at me exactly the way he had looked at Robert, I added, “Or in Spanish, if you’d rather.”

Renny folded his hands and looked down at them in mock prayer. At least, I assumed it was mock. “Lord,” he called out, “deliver me from the dummies. Please, Lord-help me out here.” He looked at me and said, as if to a child, “A special, Dexter. A one-hour comedy special. Starring me, because that’s what I do. Comedy. Because I am a comedian , and that is somebody who does comedy. And the network is shooting my special here , this Saturday night, and using it to promote Bobby’s show, okay?”

“So wait, so what,” Robert said, sounding jittery but a little hopeful. “So they use your special to promo the show-”

“Thank you, Jesus,” Renny said devoutly.

“So the show isn’t canceled?”

“We are on , brothers and sisters, and Renny Boudreaux is even more on ’cuz he is on first and he is gonna make you laugh until you hurt -’cuz my shit has been cooking awhile and I am going to kill .”

And as he said “kill” he looked at me-and there it was again, that sudden flutter of dark flame-and then Robert interrupted, and it was gone, and once more I was left wondering whether I had seen anything at all.

“Yeah, but …” Robert said. He frowned, and then said, “Oh, well, hey, I guess-I mean, that’s great, you know. I mean, as long as they’re not- Hey, one hand washes the other anyhow, right?”

“Riiiiight,” Renny said. He looked at me.