Daniel Price - Slick

“Like what’s to stop me from sacrificing you in order to save him?”

“Right…”

The poor thing. My new tack was throwing her for a loop. But I was going somewhere with this.

“If you want the answer to that one,” I teased, “then touch my face.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just poke it, real quick. Wherever you want.”

She hesitated, confused.

“It’s okay. I don’t have anything contagious.”

After another brief pause, she reached over and gently prodded my cheek.

“Okay,” I said. “Now tell me. Does it feel like I’m wearing a mask?”

“No.”

“Right. That means you know what I really look like.”

Shifting in my seat, I retrieved my wallet and dropped it on her lap. “My license is in there. Take it. Study it. Then you won’t just know my face, you’ll know my full name and address.”

She opened my wallet, but only gave my ID a cursory glance.

“I may be loyal,” I added, “but not enough to go to jail for him. The problem is that you’ve got an invisible lasso around me now. So if you go down, all you’d have to do is give it a tug and…yoink. I go down with you.”

“Unless you take me out.” She was only half kidding.

“I’m just a publicist, hon. Forget the moral argument. If you die by any means, there’ll be a cloud of suspicion hanging over me and my clients for the rest of our lives. We don’t want that. Trust me. The cheapest, easiest, safest way to keep you quiet is to keep you happy. Just think about it.”

At last, she could see me through the darkness. She took my advice and retreated inside her own head, checking my equations.

By the time we exited the UCLA campus, she came back for more numbers.

“How much?” she asked.

“How much what?”

“How much you making from all this?”

“You really want to know? Because I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me.”

I smiled modestly. “A hundred and sixty thousand.”

“JESUS!”

“Tell me about it.”

“JESUS!”

“I know.”

“You always make that much?!”

“Nope.”

“Goddamn!”

She was quiet again. Her next response was so obvious, I could have counted down to it. Three… two…one…

“How much will I make?”

“That’s hard to tell, since your money won’t be coming from us. There’ll be the exclusive interview deal you’ll squeeze from one of the networks. The book deal. Movie rights…”

“Give me a ballpark.”

“I can’t. I just know it’ll be more than what I’m making. A lot more.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. You’ll come out okay.”

“And even if I admit to lying and all that, they’ll still want my story?”

“Especially if you admit to lying. Because then everyone’s going to be focused on this sinister conspiracy you ended up foiling. We’ll even get you some bodyguards to make it look like your life is in danger for speaking out. It’ll be exciting stuff. After that, they’ll pay through the nose to hear your side of things.”

“And Hunta will be all clear and shit,” she said, utterly amazed.

“That’s the plan.”

Harmony’s eyes were wide open now. The look of marvel on her face filled me with warm satisfaction, like I had just gotten all the Christmas lights to work.

“You thought this whole thing up yourself?”

“Pretty much.”

“Wow,” she said, with a chuckle, “I just…”

Her sudden amusement snowballed into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. Silly, desperate, incredulous laughter. I smiled along but I was hopelessly locked outside on this one.

Eventually, she slowed down enough for a winded moan. She pressed the side of her mouth. “Ow.”

“You all right?”

“Yeah. It’s always sore like this for a few days.”

We kept silent as we cut through Westwood. Her cigarette had been burning between her fingers, unsmoked, for over two minutes now. She finally just threw it away.

“You ever listen to anything by Wu-Tang?”

“Can’t say I’m familiar with his work.”

She laughed. “It’s a group. You ever hear of the Five Percent Nation?”

“We’re talking religion now. Not music.”

“Right. Good. So you heard of them.”

“Yeah. They’re an offshoot of the Nation of Islam. Right?”

She batted my shoulder. “Right. Very good. I’m impressed, Scott.”

I learned it from a TV crime show. “Why do you bring them up?”

“Well, they believe the people of the world are split up three ways, okay? Five percent are the righteous teachers who preach the truth to the masses, like Wu-Tang or Common. Eighty-five percent of the people are the masses. You know, the ignorant and dumb who need to be saved. That would probably be me.”

That didn’t seem to bother her. She smiled wider. “And then there’s the last ten percent. Some call them the white devils but they don’t all got to be white. They got the knowledge and the power but they use it to dick around that eighty-five percent. They twist the truth to abuse and confuse the masses.”

“Hey, that sounds like me.”

She giggled again, touching my arm. “Baby, that is you!”

“So that’s why you’re laughing.”

“No. I’m laughing because I ain’t never had one on my side before.”

She fell into another hysterical giggle fit, one so flimsy that a stiff breeze could have knocked it over and sent her to tears.

“I like it,” she said, wiping her eyes. “God help me. I like it.”

________________

We all knew that Hunta’s hideout would inevitably be uncovered, but few expected it to happen so soon. News vans camped all along Burton Way, guarding every exit from L’Ermitage. Rather than sneak Hunta to another hotel, the Judge simply rented out the two other rooms in the wing and then hired extra muscle to guard it like a compound. It was a wise decision. The trick for me was smuggling Harmony up to Suite 511 without having our picture taken.

This morning Doug gave me the drill. As I approach the hotel, call him. Then drive down to the second level of the garage. Wait for Big Bank. Follow him to the maintenance hallway. Finally, take the service elevator up to the fifth floor. By then it should be clear of any stragglers.

With each step of the process, Harmony wound herself up tighter and tighter, to the point where she practically creaked. Who could blame her? I had lured her into the woods, and now she was starting to realize how truly lost she was. The appearance of large, scary creatures like Big Bank didn’t help.

As Doug promised, the fifth floor was all secure. As Big Bank opened the door to Hunta’s suite, I gently pulled Harmony aside.

“Hey. I want to ask you how you’re doing, but that’s probably a silly question.”

“I’m scared out of my mind,” she said.

“I know. The thing is, this is it. This is pretty much your last chance to back out without causing damage. If you truly feel you can’t handle it, I’ll take you home right now. No guilt. No questions. No problem. But if you do—”

“I’m ready.”

“You’re sure now?”

“I’m sure. But if you keep talking, I might not be.”

That tickled Big Bank. I threw them both a shrug. “Fair enough.”

She took my arm. “Wait. Just…stick by me, okay? Don’t leave me alone with anyone.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

With that, she was ready. But she didn’t let go of my arm until we crossed the threshold together.

________________

The only time Harmony had ever been inside a fancy hotel before, ironically, was the Mean World Christmas party. And even then she hadn’t ventured inside any of the majestic rooms (although that story would change). Thus, Suite 511 was a mad assault on her working class senses. She drank in the opulence with such intensity that the curtains almost swayed toward her.