Get Shorty Part 27

"Been giving it serious thought, huh?"

"All the way down to Costa Mesa and back."

"How 'bout we talk about it tomorrow? Tonight, later on, I got one for you doesn't involve any heavy work. Chili Palmer's staying with that woman, Karen? I need you to get me in the house."

"I'm already an accessory on one count," the Bear said. "You want to get in, bust a window."

"I'm thinking she might have an alarm system."

"Good, so don't do it."

"Something happened to you, huh? Like that tumble down the stairs shook you up."

"Or straightened me out," the Bear said. "It's different. It isn't like a stunt gag, you're ready, you know what's gonna happen. This guy doesn't fool around, he comes right at you. You talked to him, yeah, but you don't know him."

Catlett said, "Uh-huh," and said, "Bear, I had an idea. Listen to this."

Making it sound as though he was starting over and they were still friends.

"You get your saw-no, get your wrench, and fix my deck railing to give way like they do in movies. You know what I'm saying? Like when the guy gets. .h.i.t he falls against it and it gives way on him? All you do is loosen the bolts that hold the upright part of the rail to the deck. So then I invite Chili Palmer out here to look at my view. Get him to lean over the railing, see what's down there ... Huh? What you think?"

"This isn't a movie, Cat. This guy's real."

"It could be done though. Sure, loosen some bolts. I can see it ... Except how would I get him out here? So I better go in the woman's house and do him. You helping me."

There was a silence on the line before the Bear said, "I'm not gonna do it."

"You sure?"

"I told you, I quit."

"I hate being alone, Bear."

"That's too f.u.c.king bad."

"I hate it so much, man, if I go down I'll pleadeal you in. Give 'em this ace burglar now one of the West Coast dope kings, if they go easy on the Cat. You dig? Tell 'em where you live, where you keep the product, all that s.h.i.+t they love to hear."

There was that silence again. This time all the Bear said was "Why?" in a quiet tone of voice.

" 'Cause I'm a mean motherf.u.c.ker," Catlett said. "Why you think?" and hung up the phone.

It was fun playing with the Bear, putting fear in a man his size. Now forget him. He hadn't needed the Bear to do Yayo or the gas station man in Bakersfield or the fools he did over business, the one in his car waiting at a light, the other one on his front steps. He didn't sit down andplan doing those people. He saw the need and did them. Do this one the same way and don't think so much, worrying if there was an alarm system in the house. Harry said Chili Palmer had come in the house at night. He didn't say nothing about any alarm system going off. Chili Palmer had come in the house and turned the TV on and Harry had to go downstairs being the man, but without a gun, 'cause there wasn't a gun in the house, was there? doing those people. He saw the need and did them. Do this one the same way and don't think so much, worrying if there was an alarm system in the house. Harry said Chili Palmer had come in the house at night. He didn't say nothing about any alarm system going off. Chili Palmer had come in the house and turned the TV on and Harry had to go downstairs being the man, but without a gun, 'cause there wasn't a gun in the house, was there?

It took Harry about two minutes to decide on the Norwegian salmon-anxious to talk, get things going-and another Scotch. Chili kept reading the menu while Michael told them about the curious negative influence his father became in motivating his career. Harry was willing to bet Chili, after all the time he spent on the menu, would order a steak; and he did, the filet rare, baked potato, house salad, the soup, a half-dozen bluepoints and, yeah, another Scotch. But Michael wasn't finished telling about his dad, this tyrant who manufactured hairpieces and wanted his sonny to follow him in the rug trade, the headwaiter standing by. Then Michael had to look at the menu for a while, Harry willing to bet anything he wouldn't order from it. It was an unwritten rule in Hollywood, actors never ordered straight from the menu; they'd think of something they had to have that wasn't on it, or they'd tell exactly how they wanted the entree prepared, the way their mother back in Queens used to fix it. The seven-million-dollar actor in the jacket a b.u.m wouldn't wear told the headwaiter he felt like an omelet, hesitant about it, almost apologetic. Could he have a cheese omelet with shallots, but with the shallots only slightly browned? The headwaiter said yes, of course. Then could he have some kind of light tomato sauce over it with just a hint of garlic but, please, no oregano? Of course. And fresh peas in the tomato sauce? Harry wanted to tell him, Michael, you can have any f.u.c.king thing you want. You want boiled goat? They'll send out for it if they don't have one. Jesus, what you had to go through with actors. The ideal situation would be if you could make movies without them.

"What fascinates me about this one," Michael said, "is the chance to play an essentially cliche-type character in a way that's never been done before, against his accepted image."

Harry liked the sound of that. He wished he could light up, so he could enjoy it more. Chili, busy eating ice cream, might or might not be paying attention.

"It's not unlike the way I saw Bonaparte inElba, "Michael said. "The script had him morose, dour, bound by his destiny to play the tragic figure. I thought, yeah, that's the portrait we've all seen, with the hand shoved inside his coat. But why were his troops so loyal? Why were they willing to follow this neurotic guy, with the original Napoleon complex, to h.e.l.l and back time after time, until finally Waterloo?" "Michael said. "The script had him morose, dour, bound by his destiny to play the tragic figure. I thought, yeah, that's the portrait we've all seen, with the hand shoved inside his coat. But why were his troops so loyal? Why were they willing to follow this neurotic guy, with the original Napoleon complex, to h.e.l.l and back time after time, until finally Waterloo?"

Harry thinking,To h.e.l.l and Back, Audie Murphy, about 1955. Audie Murphy, about 1955.

As Michael said, "What I did was separate the man from the historic figure, visualize a dichotomy, imagine him offstage making love, getting drunk, generally kicking back ..." Michael grinned. "No pun intended."

Harry didn't get it.

"And you know what? I saw him rather impish in his off moments. Maybe because he was a little guy and I had to play him that way. I saw him childlike with a love of life, a mischievous glow. I have him telling jokes, mimicking his generals, I do one like a French Howard Cosell. I drink wine, smoke hash and giggle, I moon Josephine a couple of times in the film ... Anyway it's this human side that my grenadiers sense, the reason they loveme, not the historic figure, and are willing to die for me." not the historic figure, and are willing to die for me."

"Sure," Harry said, "you bring out that human side you've got the audience empathizing with you."

Chili said, "Why'd he put his hand in his coat like that?"

"It was a fas.h.i.+onable way to pose," Michael said. "And that's what I'm talking about. There's the pose of the character, as most people see him, and there's the real person who laughs and cries and makes love. I think the romance angle in our story is critically important, that it isn't simply a jump in the sack for either of them. These two become deeply in love. There's even a certain reverence about it, the way they f.u.c.k. Do you know what I mean? And it's totally in contrast to the guy's accepted character."

"From the way he appears in the beginning," Harry said.

Michael didn't even glance over. He went on saying to Chili-no doubt because Chili had spoken to him about it that other time-"Once their lives are in danger and you have the mob guy coming after them, it not only heightens tension, it adds a wistful element to their love. Now, because they have more to live for, they also have more to lose."

Harry said, "The mob guy?"

Michael, the typical actor, onstage, ignored that one too. A simple, honest question, for Christ sake.

"I also have to consider, I mean as the character, this is another man's wife I'm sleeping with. I know the guy's a schmuck, he's a sneak ... By the way, what does he do?"

"He's an agent," Chili said, "and his wife, he handles, is a rock-and-roll singer."

Michael nodded. "Like Nicki. I like that. I don't mean for the part, but a character like her."

Harry stared at Chili now, Chili eating his ice cream and refusing to look over this way, Chili telling Michael, "We're still working on the ending.

Michael said, "You are?" sounding surprised. "I thought you were bringing the script."

"You have the first draft," Harry said, wanting to start over, make some sense out of this. "The one you read I sent to your house?"

He saw Michael shaking his head with that surprised look and Chili saying right away, "Basically it's the ending has to be fixed, but there some other parts too." The h.e.l.l was be talking about? Now Michael was looking at his watch.

"Elaine wants us to come by tomorrow, sometime in the afternoon. How does that sound?"

Harry saw Chili nodding, so he nodded.

"I have to run," Michael said. "But what I hope to see, they begin to have misgivings about wanting the money. It becomes their moral dilemma and they try to rationalize keeping it, but in the end they can't." Looking at Chili the whole time. "Can they?"

"Which money," Harry said, "are we talking about?"

That got Michael's attention, finally, but with a kind of bewildered look on his face. "The three hundred large. What other money is there? I'm not being facetious, I'm asking, since I haven't read the script. I think their idea, ultimately, would be to let the husband keep it, knowing he'll get caught sooner or later. No, wait." Michael paused. "The mob guy gets to the husband first, the agent, and whacks him, knocks him off. But he doesn't have the money. Somehow the lovers have gotten hold of it. We see it piled on a bed. Make it a million-why not? The mob guy, who scares h.e.l.l out of the audience, is closing in but the lovers don't know it. So now you've got the big scene coming up. But just before it happens ... Well, it could be after, either way, but it's the shylock who makes the decision, they can't keep it."

Harry said, "Theshy lock?" lock?"

Michael turned to him saying, "Look at me, Harry."

Harry was already looking at him.

Now Chili was saying, "That's not bad. I think you got it down."

Harry turned to Chili and back to Michael again.

"Jesus Christ, you mean all this time ..."

But Michael wasn't listening. He was getting up from the table saying, "I should keep quiet, I know, till I've read the script, but I've got a feeling about this one. I'm that shylock. Really, it scares me how well I know him. I could do this one tomorrow, no further preparation."

"What am I thinking?" Chili said.

Michael grinned at him. "Well, I might need a week to get ready. But I'll see you tomorrow, right? At Tower." He started to go, paused and said, "Chil, work on that moral dilemma. Harry? Remember that time you turned me down forSlime Creatures ? I'm glad you did. I might've gotten typecast." ? I'm glad you did. I might've gotten typecast."

Michael table-hopped and touched hands all the way out. Harry watched him before turning to Chili.

"All that time he's talking about your movie."

Chili nodded.

"That's what we came for?"

Chili nodded.

"You told Michael about your movie when you saw him that time? You never talked aboutLovejoy ?" ?"

Chili finished his ice cream. He said, "Harry," getting his cigarettes out, "let's light up and have an after-dinner drink. What do you say?"

26.

Karen was waiting for him. He saw her coming away from the front steps in a heavy-knit white sweater as he got out of the car. They walked around to the patio side of the house and over to the swimming pool that was like a pond with a clear bottom, leaves, dark shapes on the surface, Chili telling about the dinner with Michael, most of what happened, and finally asking her, "Guess who paid?"

Karen said that, first of all, high-priced actors never picked up the check. They had no idea what things cost. They seldom knew their zip code and quite often didn't know their own phone number. Especially guys who changed the number every time they dumped a girlfriend. Telling him this quietly in the dark. He felt they could be in a woods far away from any people or sounds or lights, unless you looked at the house and saw dim ones in some of the windows. They could have walked in the house when he got out of the car, but she was waiting for him with the idea of coming out here. It told him they were going to end up in bed before too long. He wasn't sure how he knew this, other than being alone in the dark seemed to set the mood, the idea of moonlight and a nice smell in the air, except the moon was pretty much clouded over. Her waiting for him outside was the tip-off. He didn't ask himself why she wanted to go to bed with him. It never entered his mind.

"So who paid, you or Harry?"

"I did."

"You felt sorry for him."

"Well, yeah, maybe. Twice in one day I have to explain something where he's already made up his mind I'm trying to stick him. Michael left, we sat there another hour and talked. You know what his omelet cost?"

"Twenty bucks?"

"Twenty-two-fifty."

"And he ate maybe half of it," Karen said.

"Not even that. The whole shot came to two and a quarter, with the tip, and we didn't have any wine."

"Harry went home?"

"Yeah, feeling sorry for himself. I said to him, 'This wasn't my idea, I didn't call it. If you wanted to ask him aboutLovejoy, why didn't you?' Harry says, 'What, follow him out to the parking lot?' Harry had a point. Michael does all the talking and then he's gone, never mentioned the check. You know, at least offered. No-see you tomorrow at the meeting. Now I either have to make up something quick or forget the whole thing. Or let him do it. Michael knows more about it than I do anyway. All the time at dinner he's telling me how it should work: that the love part should be important and how he wants to play the shylock as a nice guy-like people don't mind paying him a hunnerd and fifty percent interest. You know what I'm saying?" why didn't you?' Harry says, 'What, follow him out to the parking lot?' Harry had a point. Michael does all the talking and then he's gone, never mentioned the check. You know, at least offered. No-see you tomorrow at the meeting. Now I either have to make up something quick or forget the whole thing. Or let him do it. Michael knows more about it than I do anyway. All the time at dinner he's telling me how it should work: that the love part should be important and how he wants to play the shylock as a nice guy-like people don't mind paying him a hunnerd and fifty percent interest. You know what I'm saying?"

"That's what Michael does," Karen said. "He turns the story around to suit himself and then walks away. The shylock becomes a brain surgeon. The drycleaner-who knows?"

"I'm thinking of making him an agent," Chili said, "and his wife, Fay, a rock-and-roll singer. It's a little different'n what I told you and Harry. She comes here with the shylock and they fall in love looking for Leo. Also there's a mob guy that's after them."

Karen stopped and turned to him. "His name Ray Bones?"

"Yeah, but I think I'll change it. I don't want to get sued. I've had enough of Ray Bones to last me the rest of my life."

They started walking again, strolling toward the house. Karen's shoulders hunched in the bulky sweater, hands shoved into the sleeves. She said, "What about Catlett?"

"He's not in it."

She said, "Are you sure? You have an idea for a movie based on something that actually happened, but now you're beginning to fictionalize. Which is okay, like bringing Fay into it more ..."

Chili said, "After I saw that's whatLovejoy needed." needed."

"That's fine-but what exactly are you keeping and what are you throwing away?"

"Well, if I have Bones as the bad guy, what do I need Catlett for? It's not about making a movie, it's about getting your hands on money without getting killed. Or it's about a moral dilemma, as Michael says. If they do get their hands on the money, can they keep it? Michael says no."

"So you resolve that," Karen said. "You have action, suspense, romance, good characters ... You have that wonderful scene with Bones in the hotel room. He takes the locker key and you set him up." She paused and said, "It's cool the way it works, but you can't end the picture with it. What happens next, at the airport, is offstage. But if it did play as a scene you wouldn't be in it."

"You mean the shylock."

Karen said, "Yeah, right," thinking of something else. "What you might do is play the hotel room scene with Leo instead of Bones-it's too good to throw away. Leo finds the key, leaves to pick up the money and you call the DEA."

"I wouldn't do that."

"But you did."