Daniel Price - Slick

________________

At half past eleven, I returned to the parking garage. Thankfully, it only took a few minutes to locate my rented Buick. Last night I’d spent nearly an hour wandering the residential streets of Westwood, trying to remember what I drove and where I’d parked it. By the time I found the damn thing, there was a forty-dollar parking ticket pressed against the windshield.

Today there was only a sticky note.

I didn’t notice it until I got in the car. The message was scribbled on the glue side. I could read it through the glass.

You’ve been a bad, bad boy.

While my heart thundered, I scrolled through several theories. Best case scenario: mistaken vehicular identity. Worst case: Jean had a crazy stalker side. Most likely: I had a journalist on my tail, and he or she was getting smarmy.

I sped to West L.A., returned the Buick to the good people at Avis, then hoofed five blocks to the auto-body shop. Nobody seemed to trail me. My shadow probably quit at Century City, signing off on a smug note.

Once I was reunited with my Saturn, I drove west, all the way to the Santa Monica beach. The parking lot was shooting distance from the Fairmont Miramar, a fact that wasn’t lost on others. Three spots over, an intrepid young photographer perched on the bed of his pickup truck. His telephoto lens was fixed high on Harmony’s balcony. It was smart business. A nice, clean shot of her would pay his rent for three to six months, depending on neighborhood.

I took off my shoes and socks, then made my way across the sand. I rolled up my pant cuffs at the water’s edge and dipped my feet into the water. Only in California could you do this in February. Only in L.A. would you see a man in Fendi shades and Banana Republic attire stepping through the ocean with a pair of leather shoes in one hand and a cell phone in the other. For me, there was no better place to work. The sea washed away all my extraneous issues. I was ready for Round 2.

It was 12:30 when I called Harmony again. Her mouth was full of something crunchy.

“I told you we got nothing more to talk about, Scott.”

“Yeah. Turns out you were wrong.”

She paused. “I hear waves. You near the ocean?”

“I’m in the ocean.”

“Really? You near me?”

“Very near. You can probably see me.”

“Bullshit…”

Through the phone, I heard the gentle creak of her balcony doors. I couldn’t spot Harmony myself, but I certainly made the photographer’s day.

Smiling, I cradled the phone and waved.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Keep looking straight ahead. I’ve got at least fifty yards to myself.”

“Is that you waving your hand?”

“Hi there.”

She screamed with laughter. “Oh my God! I can barely see you! You’re like a dot!”

“I’m still bigger than you.”

“What the hell you doing out there? You trying to charm your way up to my room or something?”

I scanned the other incognitos on the beach. “No. That’s not part of the plan.”

“Good. Because I told my boys not to let you in for any reason. I told them to get rough if they had to.”

“Now why would you go and do a thing like that?”

“Because I don’t want you pulling your tricks on me.”

“Why would I do a thing like that?”

“Because all you care about is saving your client. You made that clear enough.”

“Harmony, be honest with me. Who do you think I like better? You or Hunta?”

“It ain’t about like. It’s about money.”

“Shows how much you know,” I taunted. “I just forfeited my fee.”

“Yeah, right.”

I laughed and walked, drenching my shins in ice-cold seawater. “I know. The guys at Mean World thought it was a trick too. Fortunately, Maxina knew better. She knew exactly what I was doing.”

“What are you doing?”

“Giving away my money.”

“To who?”

“To you.”

For once, her disbelief was enjoyable. “You’re such a liar.”

“As we speak, Doug Modine’s cracking open the piggy bank he set aside for me. We’re going to get you eighty thousand in cash today and then deliver the other half tomorrow. We’ll send a courier to rendezvous with one of your roommates. I assume you can trust them to deliver the money.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“What is this? A setup?”

“It’s a not a setup.”

“So you’re bribing me then.”

“It’s not a bribe. It’s proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“Proof of me.”

Sadly, my scheme hadn’t done much to stop the “Scott loves Harmony” rumors. Even Maxina saw fluttering hearts around my head. When I first presented my idea, she immediately asked to speak to me alone. She was strung up in her hotel bed, zonked out on painkillers, but she was lucid enough to explore the angles. Scott, are you sure you know what you’re doing?

I kicked up arcs of water as I walked. “It’s funny. You think I’m all brain and no heart. They think I’m all heart and no brain. And you all seem to think I’m double-crossing one for the other. Harmony, Jeremy. Jeremy, Harmony. So allow me to tell you what I told them: screw you. Maybe I want to do what’s right for both of you. Maybe that’s more important to me than a silly paycheck. Maybe, just maybe, I’m a warm conniving bastard. You ever think of that?”

“No.”

“I know.” I sighed. “That’s why you and I would never work. Fortunately, my plan will. And if I can’t earn your trust, I can at least buy your lack of distrust.”

“What makes you think a bribe will change my mind?”

“I told you. This isn’t a bribe. It’s a token of faith. I’m giving up the one reason I’d have to screw you over. I don’t care who gets the money. I’d tell them to keep the money, but then you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Scott, why do you even think this is about you? Maybe I’m doing this for me!”

“So am I!”

“Bullshit!”

“Why would I lie to you now? What would I have to gain from it now? Prestige?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe they threatened your career. Maybe they threatened your life. Maybe they threatened your girlfriend’s life. I don’t know what’s really going on. All I know is that you want me to throw myself at the mercy of the media, and all I see is they don’t got any.”

“I told you—”

“I know what you told me, goddamn it. I heard you. And I don’t agree. If you ain’t lying, then you’re just wrong.”

My left shoe fell out of my grip. Cursing, I rolled up my sleeve and retrieved it from the ocean. I didn’t leave my shoes on the beach because I thought someone would steal them. Another bad idea. Son of a bitch. I just gave up my entire paycheck. I just sacrificed $160,000 and one shoe in order to clear this fatal blockage and it didn’t do a damn thing.

“You think I’m stupid, Scott.”

I closed my eyes. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“Well, you think you know more about the world than I do.”

“No. I just think I know more about the media.”

“You probably do. But maybe someday you’ll go on this ride yourself instead of pushing someone else through it. Maybe then you’ll understand why it’s so hard to do what you’re asking me to do.”