My Friend Leonard Page 16
YOU TELL LEONARD.
Another step.
THAT I’LL SHOVE THIS GUN UP HIS ASS.
Another step.
AND BLOW HIS MOTHERFUCKING HEAD OFF.
Another step back. Another step, another step. The man watches me please don’t shoot me please another step another step. Please please please let me get away. The man watches me, I’m almost gone. He lowers his gun, wipes his nose, shuts the door. I keep moving back until I reach the sidewalk. I turn and quickly walk away. My heart is exploding my legs are jelly. I’m shaking there is urine all over my legs and feet, my pants and my socks and my shoes. When I reach the end of the block I turn the corner I’m away holy fuck I’m away. I fall to my knees on a small patch of brown grass between the sidewalk and the street. I start vomiting.
I take the train home my pants are covered in piss. I buy a newspaper to keep over my lap so that the other passengers don’t see my pants it’s not a comfortable ride.
I call Leonard tell him what happened he is not happy. He tells me he’s coming to Chicago to handle this personally he wants me to meet him at his usual hotel in the morning.
I spend the rest of the day chain-smoking cigarettes. I can still see the black hole of the barrel. I can still smell the metal. I can still hear the bullet entering the chamber. I can still feel the urine running down my leg. Night comes I can’t sleep. I can still see his eyes, hear his voice. He had his finger on the trigger and he could have killed me.
I go to the bank. Fill a bag with cash. I walk to the hotel it’s a long walk. I want to burn away the fear I still feel it, it doesn’t work I still feel it. I take the elevator up, go to the restaurant. Leonard and Snapper are sitting at a table waiting for me. They do not look happy. They stand as I approach them. Leonard speaks.
My son.
What’s up, Leonard?
How you doing?
I’m good.
I look at Snapper.
What’s up, Snapper?
You tell me.
Had a weird day yesterday.
So I fucking hear.
Leonard sits, we follow. Leonard speaks.
Have you eaten?
No.
Let’s order, and then I want you to tell Snapper what happened.
We order, and unlike most of our meals together, the order is not excessive. After we order I recount yesterday’s events. Midway through, our food comes and I continue to speak as we eat. Neither Leonard or Snapper interrupt. They just sit and quietly listen to me. When I finish, Snapper takes a deep breath, pushes his plate away, looks at Leonard and speaks.
You know what this means?
I do.
He’s finally gone completely crazy.
I thought he was getting better.
Am I authorized?
Yes.
Snapper turns to me.
You’re coming with me, kid.
I speak.
No way.
You owe him.
I don’t care.
He stuck a fucking gun in your face.
I don’t care, I’m not going.
I lean over and pick up the bag of cash, which has been sitting at my feet.
I set it in front of Leonard.
I also don’t want to do this anymore. I brought you the money I owe you.
Leonard looks surprised.
You’re gonna quit because some crazy fuck pulled a gun on you?
That’s part of the reason.
What’s the other part?
I feel good about staying clean. I feel like I can do it long term. Knowing that, I’ve got to figure out what I’m going to do with my life. No offense, but I don’t want to be a deliveryman anymore, no matter how much I get paid. I don’t want guns in my face. I want to try to have a normal life, or at least something that resembles one.
Holy shit. This is crazy. You should hear yourself.
I laugh.
What if I promoted you?
You know I can’t really be part of what you do, and I don’t want to be any more a part of it than I already am. I gotta do something on my own.
What?
I don’t know, but I have enough money to take some time and figure it out.
Leonard motions to the bag of cash.
I don’t want the money.
I owe it to you.
I want to know what you spent it on.
Just take it.
Why won’t you tell me where you spent it?
I just don’t want to.
Tell me what you spent it on, and you can keep it, and you can leave your job, and you can let Snapper deal with your friend in the suburbs. I agree with your intentions, and think it will be good for you to start dealing with the future, I just want to know where the money went.
I’d rather show you than tell you.
Fine. Show me.
You have a car downstairs?
Of course.
Let’s go.
Leonard motions for the bill gets it signs it. We stand, I pick up my bag, we leave. Snapper gets the car he picks us up in front of the hotel. We start driving north and west it isn’t far. I give Snapper directions we stop at the florist where I always stop, as soon as I walk through the door they know what I’m going to buy. I buy red roses beautiful red roses. Lilly loved them when she was alive, I hope she still loves them.
We pull through the gates. We are still in the city but on its edges, we can see the towering skyline in the distance. Land spreads out before us, around us, there are thousands and thousands of stones. We drive slowly along a thin, winding road. It is quiet, still, empty. We turn off the main road onto a smaller road, drive for a moment, I motion for Snapper to pull over.
I step out of the car, Leonard and Snapper step out of the car. I lead them through the aisles. We do not speak. The only sounds are our steps and the chatter of small birds. Thirty yards in from the road I stop in front of two simple white stones. The stones are identical to each other. Words in simple print read—
Katherine Anne Sanders
1932–1994
You were Loved
Lillian Grace Sanders
1970–1994
You were Loved
There are dead roses in front of Lilly’s stone. I pick them up and put the fresh roses in their place. I lean toward the point where the stone meets the grass, where I imagine she lies, her head resting on a pillow. I whisper hello, I love you, I brought some friends with me, you probably remember Leonard, he always asks about you, I hope you’re well, I love you, I love you.
I step back, stand with Leonard and Snapper, who are staring at the stones, and I speak.
They didn’t have any family except each other, so I took care of them. I had them moved from the county morgue to a funeral home. I bought them dresses for burial, had them placed in silk lined coffins and I got these plots and the stones. They were Catholic, which I didn’t know until after, so I had a Priest perform the services. Lilly had a shitty life, a shitty fucking life, and I thought I could change that, but I couldn’t, so I wanted this, at least, to be nice for her.
I look at Leonard, tears are streaming down his face. He speaks.
They’re beautiful.
Yeah.
I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.
I nod, start to tear up.
I’m gonna have roses sent here once a week forever.
You don’t have to do that Leonard.
And these graves will always be tended.
You don’t have to do that Leonard.
I know I don’t have to, but I’m going to.
Thank you, Leonard.
He looks at Snapper, speaks.
Let’s pay our respects, let them know we’re thinking about them.
Snapper speaks.
I got a feeling they know.
I’m sure they do.
They step forward and they cross themselves, get down on one knee, start to pray. I don’t believe i
n god, but I like to think that Lilly is in a better place, so I get down on one knee and I close my eyes and I pray.
I hope she knows.
That for her and only her, for her and only her.
I pray.
Fall becomes winter.
I sit in front of my computer for hours I write what are you scared of dumbass, why are you scared?
A man at a bar tells me I look like a fly. I ask him why he thinks I look like a fly and he tells me that flies are born in shit and live in shit and he tells me that I look like shit and look like I’ve lived in, with and through shit, thus I look like a fly. I don’t know what to say so I say thank you, my friend, thank you.
I meet a girl named Julianne she’s Danny’s friend she wants a roommate. We get along, she’s from the South and her accent makes me laugh, I decide that I will be her roommate. We start looking for an apartment. We find a big apartment with two bedrooms, high ceilings, a living room dining room and kitchen, it should be expensive but isn’t. We’re trying to figure out why there is a loud rumble, and the building shakes and the windows shake and the floor shakes everything fucking shakes. Julianne wonders if we’re having an earthquake, I laugh, walk to the back of the apartment, look out the window. The El tracks are ten feet away. I like the El tracks, like the shaking and the rumbling, like the apartment. I tell Julianne that I think we should move in, she agrees with me, we sign a lease. We move in and every fifteen minutes we rumble and shake, rumble and shake.
I meet another man at another bar he looks me in the eyes and he says I am mentally ill and unstable. I tell him I am mentally ill and unstable as well. He tells me that his doctors have advised him to never drink again, that it could kill him. I tell him my doctors have given me the same advice. He tells me that he goes to bars because he doesn’t know what else to do with his life. I tell him I know the feeling and I buy him a cola, an ice cold glass of cola.
I sit in front of my computer.
Every fifteen minutes I rumble and shake.
Winter in Chicago is cold as hell.
Leonard’s visits stop he hates the cold he avoids it. I talk to him once a week or so he calls me from strange places Venezuela and Costa Rica and Barbados, Guadeloupe and the Dominican Republic. I ask him what he’s doing why he’s traveling so much he says I’m TCB my son, T, C motherfucking B. I ask him what that means, he says it means taking care of business, taking care of motherfucking business.
Leonard calls tells me he’s sending me a plane ticket he wants me to come to his beach house for the Super Bowl. I get the ticket, get on the plane, fly to LA, get off the plane. My friend Chris is picking me up. I went to college with him, lived with him for a year. He works at a golf course in Orange County. He wants to own his own golf course at some point, right now he works as an Assistant Greenskeeper. I ask him what that means, he says it means I mow fucking lawns all day.
I walk out of the terminal it’s bright, warm, sunny. Chris is waiting for me at the curb I climb into his SUV he says what’s up I say not much he asks where we going I say Orange County and I give him an address.
The drive takes just over an hour. We talk about friends laugh he asks me how I’m doing I say well, I ask him how he’s doing he says fine all he does is work. I see a big sign for the Pageant of the Masters, it makes me laugh.
We drive past an outdoor theater called the Irvine Bowl, which says it is the home of the Pageant of the Masters I laugh again. We get to Laguna Beach. We get lost. I call Leonard he gives us directions. We find his house at the end of a dead-end street. It’s a large, white, contemporary house, all angles and glass, built into the side of a cliff overlooking the ocean. There are ten or so cars parked in the driveway and along the curb. All of them are expensive European cars: Porsches, Bentleys, Mercedeses, Jaguars, BMWs.
We park, walk to the door, there’s a man at the door he asks for our names. I give him my name and he lets us in. We walk through the door into a large open living room. Everything is white, the floors, the walls, the furniture, there are white flowers in white vases, white lamps with white shades, long white linen curtains on the edges of the windows. There is a stairway leading down at the back edge of the room, we hear noise from below we walk to the stairway and descend. We walk into another large open room. The front wall of the room is made of glass, beyond the glass there is a deck and beyond the deck open views of the Pacific ocean.
Along another wall there is a pool table with black felt. Along a third there is a bar a long white bar, a bartender in a white tuxedo stands behind it serving drinks. Along the back there is a huge television, the largest television I have ever seen, its image coming from a projector hanging on the ceiling. There are three large, soft couches in a U in front of the television. There are about thirty people spread through the room and on the deck, there are many more women than men. The men are diverse, black white and Asian, some in suits, some in shorts and t-shirts. The women are all white, all beautiful, most are blond. Most have surgically enhanced chests, and are all well-dressed, though some wear less than others. When we reach the bottom of the stairs Chris looks around and looks at me and smiles and says holy fuck, this is going to be fun.
I see Leonard on the deck he’s smoking a cigar and talking to a man in his sixties with long white hair and a long white beard the man has a young blond girl with him. I walk toward Leonard he sees me raises his hand yells.
My son. My son has arrived.
The man and the blonde turn and look at me I laugh.
Hi, Leonard.
You just get here?
Yeah.
That your friend?
Yeah. Chris, Leonard. Leonard, Chris.
They shake hands. The man interrupts, tells Leonard they’ll talk later. He walks away with the woman, who glances back at us. Leonard looks at Chris, speaks.
You live nearby, right?
Yeah.
You smoke weed?
Yeah.
You like fucking hot chicks?
Chris laughs.
Of course.
The guy who just walked away is the biggest pot dealer on the west coast and the woman is his wife, who’s a porn star. She likes to fuck and he doesn’t care who she fucks and I could tell by the look she gave you that she wants to fuck you, so if you want either weed or her, let me know.
Chris laughs again.
Seriously?
Leonard nods.
Yeah, but you better be ready.
Ready for what?
She stars in S&M porn films, and she might want to beat you up before she fucks you.
Really?
Yeah, and she can kick some ass. I’ve seen the results. It isn’t pretty.
Chris turns around, looks at the woman, who is standing with her husband near the pool table. He turns back to us.
You got any beer? I think I need to have a beer and think about it.
Of course I’ve got beer, I’ve got whatever you want. Go tell the bartender and give me a minute with my son.
Cool.
Chris walks to the bar. Leonard turns to me.
Thanks for coming.
Thanks for having me.
This may be the last of these parties. I thought you’d want to see it and I thought you’d enjoy it.
Why the last?
Making some changes.
Care to elaborate?
Not yet.
Okay.
I look around.
Who are all these people?
Gambling fools, a number of whom will lose enormous sums of money to me tonight.
All of them gamble with you?
All of the men, and a couple of the women. The other women are either with one of the men or were hired by me to keep the men happy.
Which ones are hired?
You like one of them?
Just curious.
See the one talking to your friend?
I look at Chris, who is standing by the bar. He is talking to a tall blond woman, she’s t
aller than him, who is wearing a short skirt and a tube top, neither of which covers much of her body.
Yeah, I see her.
She’s a pro, and at some point in the next couple minutes she’s going to lean into his ear and offer to go upstairs with him.
He’s gonna shit.
If he’s smart, he’s gonna go upstairs. It’ll be the ride of his fucking life.
I laugh.
You do this often?
As I said, this may be the last time, but I usually do it for the Super Bowl, the NCAA basketball championship and the Kentucky Derby, which are the biggest betting days of the year.
Why here and not Vegas?
Same reason I’ve never brought you to Vegas.
Which is?
I get followed around in Vegas. My every move is monitored by people whose sole aim in life is to figure out some way to lock me up. You’re already a blip on their radar, but if you were to show up in Vegas, you would become a much larger blip, which doesn’t need to happen. I have parties here because I can control what happens in this house and what people see and hear in this house. It’s no coincidence that it’s at the end of a one-way street, and that it’s built into the side of a cliff. Both things make surveillance of it much more difficult. I also found these former spies from England who opened a spy shop that sells high-tech spy shit and they sweep it once a month for listening devices.
They ever find anything?
Yeah, but not in a while, which means the government has either given up on this place or is using shit my guys can’t find. Won’t matter soon anyway, because, as I said, these parties are ending.
And you’re not gonna tell me why?
Not yet.
He takes a drag of his cigar, speaks.
Everything good with you?
Yeah.
Keeping busy?
Yeah.
Doing what?
I wrote a movie script.
Leonard smiles.
Hah! That’s fucking great. Why didn’t you tell me you were doing that?
I didn’t want to be embarrassed if I couldn’t finish it.
You want to be a writer?
I thought I’d try it.
Can I read this script?
No.
Why?