William Lashner - Marked Man

“And what price was that?”

“To bet my life in the hope of becoming something new and better. You want to hear how it happened?”

“We want to hear about Chantal,” said Monica.

“Oh, she’s part of it, all right. The best part. So listen up and take notes, kid. You might even have a chance yourself.”

“I WAS TENDING bar in Del Rey. Tending bar was what I did till I found my way into the business. Why did I want into the business? The same reason everyone else wants in. You want to live high and fat in L.A., you got to be in the flicks. But it wasn’t happening, and I was getting too damn good at mixing drinks.

“So one night I get to talking to one of the regular drunks, and he tells me he’s a writer. He wrote a book. The book came out and it tanked and so now he drinks. Old story. I ask for a copy, I give it a read. I know right away why it never flew, it was empty at the core. Still, there was a hook in the premise. We come to an agreement. I wipe out his tab for the rights to the thing. Suddenly, just like that, I’m a producer.

“I set up meetings at every studio in town. I got a property, so suddenly the bigwigs are willing to sit with me. I go in, I pitch the thing, and no one bites. Doesn’t earn me a penny, but it’s an education. I’ll be back, sure I will, as soon as another book comes walking into my bar.

“And then it does. Not a writer this time, but a dame with nice legs and her mascara running. I ask her what’s wrong. She says nothing’s wrong, she’s just been reading. Must be a hell of a book, I say. ‘It touched my soul,’ she says. I ask her to tell me about it, and she does. All night. Hell, she’s got me crying the way she’s telling it. Next morning, without even reading the thing, I call the author. The son of a bitch has an agent, which means it won’t be the price of a bar tab. And the agent, he tells me all I need is fifty thou.

“The book’s name? You bet it was. Tony in Love .

“The opportunity I had been waiting for. And I knew how to pitch it, I knew who to pitch it to, but only if I could buy it first. In this town you control either the money or the property. Anything else, you get it up the ass. I wasn’t going in without the property. It was like a poker game that I knew I could win, but with a fifty-thousand-dollar buy-in.

“Hopeless, except I had an idea to get the dough as old as the town itself. I was going to find a woman, older, rich, ready to fall in love and pay my way. Happens every day in the big city. But one thing I knew, she wasn’t going to step in that stinking bar in Del Rey.

“And then I caught a break. One of the studio guys was from Philly, a Main Line guy, but he took a shine to me because I was city. Invited me to one of his parties at the house. Lots of stars, studio honchos, a hippie band playing. And there I spotted her. She fit my profile perfectly. A woman, older, visiting from Philadelphia, with her hair up and the best clothes and a twitchy mouth that let me know she was looking for something herself, looking for me.

“I took out two cigarettes, put them both in my mouth. She took out a lighter. I cupped her hand as the fire reached the tips. I gave her a cigarette, she gave me the lighter. As simple as that.

“She wanted to educate me, and I was willing to learn. We both were full of a desire that had nothing to do with each other. Was it more than mercenary? Truth is, she tasted like ashes in my mouth. But I tasted worse in my time, and you got to eat your vegetables before you get dessert. One night, on the beach, I took that twitch right off of her lips, and after, as we stared up at the stars, I told her I loved her. It’s Hollywood, kid, a factory of dreams, and I was giving her the grandest one of all. And when she bought it, I told her what I needed. She said she didn’t have the money, which was like a blow to the gut. But she had an idea. Out of left field. A heist. Why a heist? I asked, and she told me she had her reasons. But it would work, she said, and the money would be beyond my richest dreams.

“That night, with the stars in my eyes and the taste of ashes filling my mouth, with my hope distant and my future dimming by the minute, I thought it through. The risks were huge, but playing safe hadn’t gotten me anywhere.

“During one of my pitch meetings, a studio VP had given me a book. It was his thing, to give it as a gift. He thought it made him seem literary and hip. That’s right. Nietzsche. By the end of the year, the VP was back in Waukegan, but the book stayed with me, along with its most important lesson: that we could will ourselves to power. ‘Man is a rope stretched between the animal and the Superman – a rope over an abyss.’ And I wanted to believe it. On one side of the abyss was Teddy Pravitz, a bartender from the streets of Philadelphia sinking slowly into his failure. On the other side was a stranger I could only dimly glimpse: Theodore Purcell, a man with a name I had invented to use in the business, the great man I always wanted to be. The question was whether I was strong enough to make the leap and become something new.

“What about you, kid? Do you think you have the balls for it?”

IT WAS AN impressive experience, listening to Theodore Purcell justify the choices in his life. He relished the opportunity to tell it to someone who knew where he came from and what he did to get where now he sat. He wasn’t apologetic, he was proud and confrontational. As he told us about how he contacted Hugo, brought in the rest of his old gang, how he orchestrated everything, he could barely keep the self-satisfied half smirk off his face. He leaned forward at the table as he talked. Each sentence was like a fighter’s jab, quick and bloody. This is what I did, this is how I became a big-time mogul. Who the hell are you to judge what I made of my life?

“You must have put on some show in that bar,” I said, “convincing Charlie and Joey and Ralphie Meat to go along with your crazy plan.”

“I convinced them with what convinced me. Nietzsche. I pitched it like I was pitching a flick, and they put it in development right there in that bar. Setting up that operation was like setting up a movie. Working out the three-act plot, with its subtle character arcs, the big action scene, the getaway and payoff, picking the cast, getting everything ready for the shoot. Even with all the success I’ve had, it was the greatest achievement of my life. I took the risk, made the leap, watched it all work out. And it did work out, like a dream, kid. You ever do something so perfect it changed everything?”

“No,” I said.

“It ain’t easy, trust me.”

“How did you guys get someone in the building?”

“It was her idea,” said Purcell. “As soon as she saw Hugo, she realized how to do it. He was the same size as the old man, same build and coloring. And the old man was the only one who didn’t have to sign in and out of the building. She swiped a suit and hat, did the makeup herself, taught him how to walk, how to stoop, how to ignore the guards like the old man ignored the guards. While she was out with the old man in the garden, Hugo went in a different exit and then went straight to a closet and hid until the time was right to let the rest of us in.”

“And you made off with a fortune.”

“Not quite a fortune. She had been overoptimistic, and some of the jewels we were counting on had been out that night. And then, of course, we knew from the start that the paintings couldn’t be sold. They were too famous to be worth anything.”

“So why did you take them?”

“One for her, all she wanted from the deal, a sentimental gesture she said. And one for us, our ace in the hole to deal our way out of trouble if it turned bad. Always have a backup plan, kid, or the vultures here will eat you alive.”