Get Shorty Part 15

"I can do it later," Chili said. "Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I want to hear what you think."

He took off his suitcoat as Karen went over to a fat chair next to the sofa.

"You read the script ..."

"I could play the sister," Karen said, "and wear sensible shoes. That would be a switch."

Chili moved to the sofa, folding his suitcoat.

"I don't see you doing that one, the sister."

He laid the coat next to him as he sat down.

"But there isn't anything else, as it stands, you'd want to do."

"I wasn't really looking for a part."

"There could be a good one though. I got some ideas."

Karen said, "You do, huh?"

Looking at Karen he could see the phone on the counter above her, the message light blinking on and off. It would have to be Tommy, something about Bones maybe, or Nicki. He began telling Karen how he thought the script needed to be fixed, change the wh.o.r.e to make it a bigger part: how she helps Lovejoy out and pretty soon they have something going.

"The hooker and the florist," Karen said.

"You wouldn't have to be a hooker exactly."

"Mousse my hair and chew gum? Why don't you check your messages?"

"I can wait."

"You've read the script?"

"Not all of it, but I know what it's about."

"You and Harry'll make a great team. Has he read it?"

"He bought it, he must've."

"You sure? Harry used to have someone else read for him. Then he'd skim it if he thought he was going into production."

"He told me he read it twice."

"This one he might've. You like the idea?"

"Basically, yeah, except what I mentioned. The part I read, the ending, I didn't like 'cause it's a letdown. You know what I mean? Lovejoy's just standing there."

"What do you think he should do?"

"Well, if he's the star he's the one ought to make it happen. Get some action going that's his idea." She kept looking at him and he said, "I don't like the t.i.tle either."

"Harry thinks he needs you," Karen said, "but he can't pay you anything, he's broke."

Chili said, "I know exactly how much he doesn't have."

"So what do you get out of it?"

"You came here to ask me that?"

She said, "I want to know," staring at him the way she did last night. It wasn't the old dead-eyed look exactly, but it wasn't bad.

"I like movies," Chili said. "I help Harry make one, I'll find out what you have to do outside of have an idea and raise the money. That doesn't sound too hard. I was in the money business and I get ideas all the time."

She looked so serious he had to smile at her.

"Then I'll do one, make a movie and put you in it."

He glanced at the message light on the phone flas.h.i.+ng on and off.

Karen was still watching him.

She said, "I took your advice and made a deal with Harry. Not to act in it. The way I see it, if I save Harry a half million by setting him up with Michael, I should have a piece of the action. I told him I want co-producer."

"What'd Harry say?"

"Harry would agree to anything. But I said I'd only do it if he can get a studio to putLovejoy into development. So the first thing he has to do is sell the idea to Tower. That's where he wants to take it. He thinks he can handle Elaine Levin." into development. So the first thing he has to do is sell the idea to Tower. That's where he wants to take it. He thinks he can handle Elaine Levin."

"What do you think?"

"If Elaine doesn't like the idea, Harry's not going to sell her on it. If she likes it, it could get made, with or without Michael."

Chili said, "The script still needs to be fixed."

"You know that," Karen said, "and you haven't even read it."

He watched her lean over to push out of the chair, then pause and toss her head as she looked at him again, her hair falling away from her eyes-and remembered Karen doing it with blond hair, giving the guy in the movie the same look.

She said, "This might work. You never know."

He asked the operator for his messages. She said, "Just a minute." He waited. She came back on saying, "A Karen Flores called. She didn't leave a message." The operator sounded Latin. "A Mr. Zimm called. He'll talk to you tomorrow." That was it.

Later on, watchingTaxi Driver on TV, Chili kept thinking of the way Karen had looked at him and wondered if she was telling him something and if he should've asked her to stay and have a drink. But then when Robert De Niro shaved his hair into a Mohawk, Chili started thinking of Ray Bones, even though Ray Bones didn't have a Mohawk or look anything like Robert De Niro. Maybe it was all those guns De Niro had, wanting to shoot somebody. on TV, Chili kept thinking of the way Karen had looked at him and wondered if she was telling him something and if he should've asked her to stay and have a drink. But then when Robert De Niro shaved his hair into a Mohawk, Chili started thinking of Ray Bones, even though Ray Bones didn't have a Mohawk or look anything like Robert De Niro. Maybe it was all those guns De Niro had, wanting to shoot somebody.

15.

Catlett lived way up in the Hollywood hills where you could see the lights of L.A. spread out in kind of a grid and hear coyotes yipping in the dark. Here were all these modern homes built on stilts hanging over the sides of cliffs and there were still wild animals running around free. Catlett, barefoot, wearing a white silk bathrobe, stood at the rail of his deck, nothing below it for about twelve stories to where faint voices were coming from a lit-up swimming pool, a bright little square of light blue down there in the night, a girl laughing now, a nice sound ... while the Bear told about the Colombian mule, Yayo the yoyo, dumb son of a b.i.t.c.h, still out at the airport.

"Thinks they have him spotted."

"He call you?" Catlett said, his voice quiet. "How'd he know to do that?"

"He called Miami and they gave him our service number," the Bear said. "The service calls me and I call the yoyo at LAX. He says the focking guy you told him was a fed left, but two more focking guys just like him took his place. With those focking gones on their legs."

"Irritable, huh?"

"Making sounds like he's coming loose on us."

"Yeah, that's how those people are."

"He makes a run at the locker they'll grab him. Then you have to think," the Bear said, "p.i.s.sed as he is, he could give us up too."

"Out of meanness," Catlett said, "or making a plea deal. You suppose you could go get him?"

"That's what I was thinking. Tell him the airport's too hot right now."

"I appreciate it," Catlett said.

"You want me to take him anyplace special?"

"I don't care, long as you get him out."

"I could take him home."

"Yeah, but don't let him go near Farrah, hear? How's the child?"

"Cute as a bug."

Catlett said, "Bear? Something else that's pressing. This man Chili Palmer, staying at the Sunset Marquis. I wonder you could do a read on him for me.

"Chili Palmer," the Bear said.

"Thinks he's mean. I wouldn't mind you ran into him. See if he's real."

"I could do that."

Catlett said, "s.h.i.+t, everything at once. I also need to know where Harry Zimm's been hanging out. Put a limo on him"-Catlett starting to grin- "tail the motherf.u.c.ker in a white stretch."

The Bear said, "I best take care of Yayo first," and left.

It was cool out on the deck, Catlett wearing just the thin robe, but felt good, some stars out and that clear sound of voices in the dark, the girl laughing again. People with style knowing how to live. It looked like they might be skinny-dipping down there, couple of pink shapes in the blue-lit square. Coyotes watching them from the bushes ... Young coyote asks his daddy, What's that looks like a p.u.s.s.y over there? And his daddy says, It's what it is, boy. They might even be movie people, work either side of the camera, it didn't make any difference. They were the kind of people he wanted to a.s.sociate with in his life, not have to fool with fools like Yayo anymore. Even if you had to watch your step in the movie business, keep from getting f.u.c.ked over, at least the ones doing it had some style. Chili Palmer had it in his own way,some thing, but it was hard to put your finger on it. Chili Palmer looked like a mob guy and talked like one-not a movie mob guy, a real one-though he could maybe play one in a movie. He had the bulls.h.i.+t to make it work, if the camera didn't scare him. Ask him what did he bring to Harry's deal and he says, "Me." Catlett had to smile, by himself out on his deck and starting to s.h.i.+ver with cold, he had to smile at the man's bulls.h.i.+t. "Me." Or was it confidence he had in himself? Either way, it could work for him. And then saying what he did, if writing a script was so easy, saying, "What do I need you for?" He did know a few things about movies, who Morgan Freeman was and how to say Greta Scacchi's name, without looking like he'd know such things. He let you think he'd read the script but didn't get sa.s.sy when he got caught-no, he listened to it told, wanting to know. That showed confidence, too, didn't it? The man out in the open with himself. Maybe less bulls.h.i.+t about him than you think. Even though he looked and talked like a mob guy and those guys would bulls.h.i.+t you to death. thing, but it was hard to put your finger on it. Chili Palmer looked like a mob guy and talked like one-not a movie mob guy, a real one-though he could maybe play one in a movie. He had the bulls.h.i.+t to make it work, if the camera didn't scare him. Ask him what did he bring to Harry's deal and he says, "Me." Catlett had to smile, by himself out on his deck and starting to s.h.i.+ver with cold, he had to smile at the man's bulls.h.i.+t. "Me." Or was it confidence he had in himself? Either way, it could work for him. And then saying what he did, if writing a script was so easy, saying, "What do I need you for?" He did know a few things about movies, who Morgan Freeman was and how to say Greta Scacchi's name, without looking like he'd know such things. He let you think he'd read the script but didn't get sa.s.sy when he got caught-no, he listened to it told, wanting to know. That showed confidence, too, didn't it? The man out in the open with himself. Maybe less bulls.h.i.+t about him than you think. Even though he looked and talked like a mob guy and those guys would bulls.h.i.+t you to death.

Catlett felt himself close to something here and said it out loud to hear it. "You close. You know it? You close." Thinking, Chili Palmer might know something about movies. Then saying out loud, "But you know more."

Time to quit thinking and start doing. Yeah.

Not let anything stand in the way. No.

Not Chili Palmer, not anybody.

Ronnie said, "I have to make all the decisions around here? Why don't you decide for a change. It's not that hard, Cat. You want to go to Mateo's? The Ivy? You want to go to Fennel? Drive out to Santa Monica? Or we can run across the street to the Palm, I don't give a s.h.i.+t. But we have to eat, right?"

"I don't know," Catlett said, "do we?"

Give him a hard one like that, mess up his head.

"You have anything has to be done around here?"

There wasn't much that looked like business on Ronnie's desk. It stayed neat, his girl Marcella in the other office doing the scheduling and billing.

Ronnie said, "Not that I know of."

Catlett didn't have a desk. He sat across from Ronnie looking at Ronnie's cowboy boots up on the desk, ankles crossed, Ronnie low in his big chair, down behind there somewhere.

"Well, I know you got three cars out working. You got to pick up the producer coming in from New York, and later on the rock group that likes the white stretch. I know that much," Catlett said, "and I barely work here."

Ronnie said, "You know that, but you can't tell me where you want to have lunch. Hey, how about Chinois? The curried oysters with salmon pearls, mmmmm."

Catlett said, "How about Spago?" acting innocent, knowing they didn't serve lunch, and got a mean look from Ronnie. The last time they went there the woman tried to seat them over on the other side of the open kitchen and Ronnie went berserk, told her, "My f.u.c.king Rolls is in the front row outside and you want to put us inback ?" The man had a point. You sat at the right tables if you expected to be recognized in this town. Ronnie's trouble was n.o.body remembered him. ?" The man had a point. You sat at the right tables if you expected to be recognized in this town. Ronnie's trouble was n.o.body remembered him.

Next, Catlett heard Ronnie's desk drawer open and saw Ronnie's automatic come edging out of the V between his crossed cowboy boots and heard Ronnie making gunfire sounds,couuu, couuu, the little guy playing with his Hardballer .45, a pistol ten inches long. the little guy playing with his Hardballer .45, a pistol ten inches long.Couuu, pretending he was shooting that lady maitre d' at Spago. pretending he was shooting that lady maitre d' at Spago.

"Put it away."

"I'm not pointing it at you."

"Ronnie?"

"s.h.i.+t."

"In the drawer."

"I wouldn't mind somebody trying to rip us off," Ronnie said. "You know what this would do to a guy?"

"I know I'm not ever having lunch with you no more you don't put that thing away." Catlett waited, hearing the drawer slide open and close. "You have a delivery to make, don't you? Down to Palm Desert?"