FORTY
Looking out the motel window, Lena saw Sean staring out on the wide blue expanse, as if he had been mesmerized by its power, but she had come to learn that he was no mystic, just a simple man and never the reincarnation of her uncle. Some many problems could have been avoided, if she had left him on the highway or dropped him in LA like he wanted. Her insisting that he be cast in the film also was a mistake, although he had ended up being more than adequate for the role of the last man of Earth. She could have easily had sex with any man for the experiment yesterday and probably would be sleeping with Sherri at this very moment, but she had been driven by her life-long desire for a man who never really existed, except in her childhood, who she should have forgotten like so many things about those years, for the first blonde man in the black suit had been just a man, not a god. Just like Sean. No better. No worse. They were all the same, especially if you only loved women.
The telephone ringing halted these self-recriminations and she picked up the phone, expecting the caller to be Isaac Conti, instead she was shocked to hear Louie Sinreich ask, "You there, Lena?"
"How'd you get this number?"
"I have my ways. Listen, we have to talk."
"About what?"
"You have something of mine and I have something of yours."
"Sherri." Her greatest fear had just materialized into reality.
"Yeah, like she's came over for a visit and stayed the night.
"You better not have hurt her.” Lena warned, but Louie replied soothingly, "Why would I do that? Sherri and I go way back. I'm only keeping her as my guest until you come back here."
"And what do you want?” Lena demanded, sounding stronger than she felt.
"What do I want? I want that I could turn back time and nothing bad had happened, but it's too late for that, so. I want you to come back here with the PC, the money, the harness, yourself, and your boyfriend, then I’ll let Sherri go."
"The man. He's gone.” Lena lied, for Sean Tempo had only been trouble and would only be more, if he accompanied her.
"He’s a lot smarter than he looked. I guess I'll just have to be happy with three out of four. Just come back here and everything will work out."
"But I shot that man."
"It was a flesh wound. He didn't even have to go to the hospital. You see it didn't make the papers, right? So what do you say? Come on over."
"You really expect me to trust you?"
"Like you don't really have a choice, baby."
"I could always call the police."
"That would just complicate things. I mean, I do have film of you shooting that man in the back."
"You bastard." She wasn't really all that surprised, but wondered whether the film would acquit or convict her in a court of law.
"Let's not lose our tempers. Lena. Just come on over and everything will be all right. You'll get to keep the money. Sherri will go home and I'll have my program. Simple."
She had no doubt Louie was lying and took out Sherri's .38. It had another four bullets. More than enough and she said, "I can be there in an hour by taxi."
"One hour or else....and I don't think I need to spell out the 'or else'."
"No, you don’t,” Lena answered, the gun as steady in her hand as it had been, when she had fired it into the big man in the studio.
"Good,” Louie answered, then said, "I'm just as sorry as you are by how this worked out."
Lena didn't respond and the producer hung up, after which she ordered a cab to the Valley over the phone and got dressed in the denims Sean had brought. They didn't really fit, but were perfect for what she had in mind.
Impatient for the arrival of the taxi, Lena picked up the case with the money and the PC console along with the sensory harness, then rechecked, if the revolver was loaded before sticking it inside her jacket. Before leaving she said a prayer her mother had taught her, calling on God to help her, even though he might not approve of her goal. It was a long shot, but she was calling in every chip of luck she had in reserve. If they were not enough, then the four bullets in the revolver would have to tip the balance.
She emerged from the motel room, dressed like a migrant worker. There was no sign of the taxi, but she started walking toward the highway, not wanting to waste any time by having to explain anything to the man from nowhere, but it was too late for a clean escape, for Sean shouted her name.
Lena pretended not to hear and walked faster. She thought about running for a second, but she would have had to abandon the two cases she was carrying, so she spun on her heel and faced the approaching man, her green eyes flashing with hatred, not so much toward him, but all men in general. Swiftly putting down the cases, Lena reached inside her jacket.
Sean had no doubt that she was going for the gun and stopped in his tracks, saying, "That won't be necessary."
"I'll be the judge of that,” Lena announced, whipping out the cold steel weapon. "Don't try anything stupid."
"Don't worry, I won’t.” A golden ray of sunlight bounced off the clouds and surrounded Lena with a glowing nimbus. Sean had seen this mirage before and wasn't going to be fooled a second time. "Where are you going?"
"It's none of your business.” Lena spread her legs apart, ready for anything he might do.
"That may be true, but I don't want to have you getting hurt on my conscience."
"I absolve you from any responsibility.” Lena said, hoping for the taxi to appear, but the highway was empty.
The cases at her feet explained why she was leaving and Sea asked, "They have Sherri, don't they?"
Lena's face hardened, and for a second she appeared like she was ready to shoot him just for practice, but she nodded and said, "I'm going to get her."
"You can't go alone.” Sean took a step forward, which Lena answered with the cocking of the pistol. "Don't come any closer."
"This is crazy. We can go to the police, tell them what happened and have them rescue Sherri."
"For a man on the run, you have a lot of faith in the police."
"They’re the professionals."
"Yes, we call them, they go in, kill everyone, and we go to jail,” Lena predicted and Sean couldn't answer, since the same thing occur when he was a young man back in Boston and this incident had shaken his trust of the police forever. He took a breath, then said, "At least take me along."
"No.” she spat, ending all discussion, as a taxi appeared. She stuck the pistol in her jacket and tossed him a packet of money, "That's for the film. Hopefully everything will turn out for the better like in our movie."
"That wasn't a happy ending for me,” Sean remarked too late, for the door of the taxi slammed and the cab disappeared down the PCH.
Feeling the salty breeze on his face, Sean told himself he should be happy. He had money and was free to go anywhere in the world, but he knew Lena’s destination and he would accompany her there too whether she liked it or not. As Sean returned to the room, the clerk came out of the office and asked, "What happened to your ride?"
"I traded it in for what was behind door number three.” Sean responded without stopping.
"Looks like you got screwed,” the clerk commented, repressing a smile. He had seen more than his fair share of break-ups here.
"Yeah, won't be the first time."
"And probably no the last. You checking out?"
"I guess so." He had to get over to the Valley and quick.
"You owe me twenty bucks for telephone calls."
"Twenty bucks?" Sean hadn't made a single call, but Lena must been busy on the phone, while he was out.
"Yeah, expensive, huh?"
"A nice round number." It was more blackmail, since the clerk had seen a gun and one phone call to 911 would bring the police down here with the sirens blaring, so Sean flipped a $20 bill to the clerk. "Thanks for everything."
"Don't mention it." The clerk tucked the bill into his pocket and returned to his office.
Sean had bought his silence, but twenty dollars doesn't go far in this world, so he hurried back to the motel room and grabbed his bag. After checking for anything Lena or he might have left behind, he went to the door, but a horn honking in the parking lot stopped him from opening it.
Peeking out the window at a black Lincoln Town Car, Sean felt a noose tightening around his neck, for he was certain that this car had come for Lena. The windows were smoked, so he couldn't make out the face of the driver. The horn beeped again. He didn't know who they were, but he was going to go out and tell them they were too late. If they had a problem with Lena being gone, then he was in the perfect mood to tell them that they could come back tomorrow, because he was going where she was and no one was going to stop him.
Sean stepped out of the room, as a low-built bald man in his fifties climbed out of the Lincoln and eyed Sean, as if he were sizing him up for a coffin. "Get in the car."
"Lena's not here.” Sean thought about slugging the driver, but a closer look at the heavy-set man informed him that the only thing that could put this man in his place was a bullet to the back of the head.
"Yeah, tell that to the man in back.” Something about the slowness in his movement warned Sean he was a man not used to being refused and the squat driver sighed out the warning, "Don't make me come and get you."
"Okay, I'll play nice.” Approaching the car, Sean tried to guess who was in the back seat.
deRocco and Driscoll were dead, no way Vic could have found him, and Lena in a taxi. Checking off these possibilities left him with a mystery, which was solved by getting in back and seeing the elderly man. "You?
"I was about to say the same thing,” the old man from the hotel in Las Vegas said, though he exhibited no visible surprise at meeting his failed assassin. "You looked better as a blonde."
"Yeah, that's what everyone's been telling me,” Sean declared before seeing the weapon in the old man's hand. It was a small caliber pistol, however the expression on the old man's face accompanied the deadly warning, "Don't try it. You might not have been able to shoot me, but I most certainly will you."
The big man squeezed behind the wheel. All the locks thunked down and the Lincoln pulled out of the parking lot onto the PCH.
In a black cotton turtleneck and slacks, the old man looked like a retired cat burglar planning a break-in, "I thought leaving town was part of our agreement."
"I got out of Las Vegas, but I got distracted here."
"Yes, LA is a hard place to leave, when you're having fun.” Isaac Conti could have left town too, except after leaving Vegas, he had been waiting for whoever had tried to whack him to come out of hiding. Louie Sinreich's having Sherri fingered him as the number one suspect, but also complicated the matter even more and he asked, "You ever wonder who I was or where I was?"
"A few times.” Sean unsuccessfully tried to calculate the odds of, but he was not a bookie. Still the improbability of the old man he was supposed to have killed showing up at this motel affirmed his belief that everyone's fate was written by a sarcastic god, who believed in predestined coincidence, then fixed the odds for the best possible laugh.
"Well?” the old man asked again, as if he expected a better answer and Sean had one for him. "I figured you had to be a pornographer."
"You say that like it's a dirty word."
"Isn't it?” Sean and his boyhood friend had imagined pornographers to be old guys in black suits, smelling of failed kidneys, but this man was more a hipper version of anyone's favorite grandfather.
"Depends on how you look at it. Me, I take care of the girls, pay everyone on time, give a decent product to the consumers, and obey the laws."
"I guess that makes you a good citizen."
"I'm not here to discuss the merits of my business. I was supposed to meet Lena and she's gone, right? All I need to know is where?"
"I haven't a clue." Sean lied, not yet sure what his interest in the two women was.
"You want me to ask him?" The chalky rasp of the driver voice startled Sean. The old man waved his hand. "No, it's not necessary. Sure, you're confused by my appearance here, but believe me, all I want is to help Sherri and Lena."
"Then why don't we call the police?"
"Yeah, right, if that was such a good idea, why didn't Lena do that?” The old man's question didn't require an answer from someone like Sean. "Where's Sherri and Lena?"
The afternoon sun was painting the coast a honey hue. All the heads in the other cars were smiling, because they were all living in an Eden from which Sean was just about to be exiled and he wasn't happy about their being happy. "Give me one good reason why should I tell you?"
"Because I'm Sherri's uncle."
"Uncle?"
"She probably didn't mention me, but if you spent any time with her, then you know how she feels about men, right?” The old man raised his eyebrow, as if this statement alone should prove how well he knew Sherri. "Lena already told me what happened with Louie Sinreich. He was the one who set me up. He has Sherri. I trusted you in Vegas and you'll have to trust me now. Where are they?"
Sean didn't have many other options, for if he was going to the studio in Van Nuys, then he might as well have company, so he told the old man about the studio in Van Nuys and how Lena had left about ten minutes before them. The old man smiled benevolently and said to the driver, "You heard where. Let's go."
The big man stepped on the gas and veered into the passing lane. A Lexus screeched to a halt and its horn blared, but neither man paid any attention to the near-accident.
"I'm glad you have all the answers." Sean folded his arms
"Not all of them, just the ones pertaining to me.” The old man tugged at his ear like that might be a sign of wisdom, instead of a nervous tic.
"Like why I was chosen to kill you?"
"Not important.” the old man's tone was dead serious. "You were there, because you were there."
"I'm sorry, but that's too Zen for me to buy."
"It's difficult to imagine most of the mysteries of our lives going unanswered. Sometimes what you do is because you have no other choice. That was why you were on the stairwell and why you're going to show us the way to the studio, right?"
"Like you said. I have no choice."
"Good, I was hoping you'd say that." the old man's voice stated without emotion.
"I bet you were," Sean replied, for once more Sean's fears were confirmed.
Things can get worse.
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