My Friend Leonard Read online

It’s awful.

  Come on.

  No way.

  It can’t be that bad.

  It’s fucking awful. I showed it to a couple of people and everyone agrees, even though some of them won’t say it directly.

  Why’d you write a script? I thought you were gonna write a book.

  Scripts are easier and take less time and I thought I might be able to make some money at it.

  Most movies are awful, so it’s probably perfect.

  This is awful even on the movie scale of awful, and it wasn’t supposed to be awful. While I was doing it, I thought it was brilliant. Nobody in their right mind would give me a penny for it.

  There are plenty of people in Hollywood who aren’t in their right minds.

  Some of them are here, right now, in this fucking house.

  Trust me, even they would think it was awful.

  You gonna write another one?

  Yeah.

  Good. You should write the dumbest, most commercial thing you can think of and I bet you’ll sell it.

  Maybe.

  How’s your money holding up?

  I still have too much of it.

  Go spend it. Buy something beautiful.

  I saw a Matisse drawing recently.

  I’ll expect to see it on your wall next time I’m in town.

  You should come soon. My friends miss you and they’re hungry.

  He laughs, motions toward the house.

  Game’s about to start, I gotta go in and take action.

  Where’s Snap?

  Dallas is playing, and for some reason Snap, despite the fact that he is from New York, has always been a Dallas fan, so I got a pair of tickets for him and his brother and sent them.

  You’re a good man, Leonard.

  He laughs.

  No I’m not.

  Yeah you are.

  Let’s go inside. I gotta get to work.

  I follow him inside. Chris is still talking to the girl. Leonard walks toward the couches, a platinum selling R&B star is singing the National Anthem on the television. Leonard starts mingling with his guests, telling them jokes, laughing with them, shaking hands with them. I go to the bar, get a cola, find a seat, wait for the game to start. Almost immediately, Chris sits next to me, speaks.

  Dude.

  What’s up?

  That chick, I think she’s into me.

  I laugh.

  What’s so funny?

  Are you into her?

  Look at her. She’s gorgeous. Of course I’m into her.

  And why do you think she’s into you?

  She asked me if I wanted to go upstairs, have a private conversation.

  What’d you say?

  I said hell yes. She’s grabbing her purse and we’re going up.

  I laugh again.

  What’s so funny?

  I shake my head.

  Come on, Dude. What’s so funny?

  She’s a hooker, Chris.

  No way.

  Yes, way.

  How do you know?

  Leonard told me.

  She’s a fucking hooker?

  Yeah.

  I thought she was into me.

  She probably was, though she gets paid to be into everyone here, literally and figuratively.

  Goddamnit.

  Get a drink. Let’s watch the game.

  He goes to the bar, gets a drink, comes back. As the game starts, most of the people in the house gather in the area around the television. Leonard is sitting in the middle of the couch taking bets. From where we are sitting we can hear the amounts fifty, seventy-five, one hundred thousand, we hear one man say two hundred and twenty-five, we hear another say four hundred. During the game, we hear more ridiculous bets. One man bets one hundred thousand dollars that Dallas will get a first down, he loses the bet. Another bets fifty that the other team’s kicker will miss a field goal, he wins the bet. Leonard takes every bet offered, though he often adjusts the odds. There are bets on first downs, fourth downs, on extra points, passing yards, rushing yards, points above and below, there are bets on fucking everything. At halftime everyone goes upstairs, where a huge buffet has been laid out. There is prime rib, there are crab claws, there is Caesar salad, baked potatoes, creamed spinach. There are salmon steaks, there’s pasta salad. There is a separate buffet with dessert cakes and tarts and pies and cookies and chocolates and éclairs. We get plates of food, go back downstairs, watch the halftime show. Chris meets two other women one of them is a hooker, the other is married to a record producer, I meet the owner of a chain of car dealerships, an Israeli weapons dealer, a man who exports used American clothing to Japan, two professional gamblers, a man who says he is Iranian royalty and had to flee the Ayatollahs. Near the end of the show, Leonard sits down next to me. I speak.

  How’s it going?

  Bad right now.

  Why?

  Down 1.2 million.

  Fuck.

  I’ll get it back.

  That’s a lot of dough.

  Just wait. People start getting stupid in the second half. You having fun?

  Yeah, I am. This is ridiculous.

  It is indeed.

  You having fun?

  It’s work.

  You should grab one of your girls, relieve some stress before the game starts again.

  They’re not here for me. If you want one, though, you can have my room.

  No thanks.

  Across the room, a man starts calling for Leonard.

  I gotta run.

  Cool.

  He gets up, walks to the man. The game starts again. Chris shoots pool with two of the hookers, tries to decide if he wants to sleep with one of them or both of them or both of them at the same time. I try to convince him that he should have both of them at the same time, he decides against it, says it doesn’t feel right to him. I tell him it would probably feel awfully fucking right while he was doing it and he laughs and says yeah, yeah, yeah.

  As the game goes on Leonard’s guests get more and more drunk, some of them start snorting coke off the coffee table, the bar, off compact disk covers, some of them start smoking weed. There are more bets, and the bets, fueled by liquor and drugs, are riskier and more ridiculous. Leonard starts winning more of them, makes his money back, starts racking up huge gains. By the time the game ends, which Dallas wins, Leonard is obviously happy, though it doesn’t show because he keeps a straight face.

  After the game the women turn on music, start dancing. The liquor is still flowing, the drugs are still out, some of the women start making out with the men, some of them start making out with each other, some of them stand on top of the bar, take off their shirts and dance. I have a red-eye and Chris has lawns to mow early in the morning, so we find Leonard he’s on the deck smoking a cigar. I speak.

  We’re heading out.

  You’ve had enough?

  It was cool. I’m glad I came. Thank you for bringing me.

  Of course. What are you going to do when you get home?

  Write another dumb movie.

  Make it really dumb.

  I’ll do my best.

  And I’ll come visit when I can or when I finish with my new business.

  The secret business.

  Leonard laughs.

  You’ll understand when I tell you.

  Be careful.

  I am being careful. That’s why shit like this . . .

  He motions toward the house.

  Is ending.

  I’m glad I got to see it.

  He laughs.

  If you stay a bit longer, you’ll see a whole lot more.

  I laugh. He puts his arm around me.

  I’ll walk you to the door.

  Thanks.

  We walk to the door. Leonard opens it we step outside. He speaks.

  Safe travels.

  You too.

  He looks at Chris.

  Good to meet you.

  Thanks for having me.

  You change your mind about tho
se girls, let me know. It’ll be on me.

  Chris laughs.

  Thanks.

  Leonard looks back at me.

  See you soon, my son.

  Later, Leonard.

  Chris and I walk to his truck get inside pull away. Leonard stands at the end of his drive, watches us go.

  Later Leonard.

  Winter becomes spring.

  I write another movie script. I think it’s great until I show it to my friends. They let me know that it is not great, not even close to great, that it should be thrown away.

  I meet a girl named Tanya at the Local Option. She’s small, blond, British. She has bright blue eyes and she likes to laugh. Fifteen minutes after we meet she asks me if I want to take her home. I know I’ll never love her, so I say yeah. We have a lovely evening together.

  I buy the Matisse. It looks nice on my wall.

  I celebrate April Fools’ Day. The one day a year when we are reminded what we are for the other three hundred and sixty-four. Happy Fools’ Day, motherfucker, happy April Fools’ Day.

  I see Brooke on the street. She’s shopping, I’m walking. We talk for three or four minutes and it hurts me for three or four days.

  I go out every night with my friends. We go to bars shoot pool, we go to clubs listen to music, we go to parties they drink, we go to dinner eat. I still don’t sleep well after a year and a half I still can’t fucking sleep. I read every night until four or five I read until my eyes fall until the rumbling and shaking lull me into black.

  I bring Tanya home again and again I bring her home. She doesn’t want anything from me or expect anything from me she’s easy to be with and she likes to laugh and she makes me laugh. I bring her home again and again.

  Spring becomes summer.

  The phone rings I answer it. It’s early in the morning I just fell asleep.

  Hello?

  My Son. MY SON. It’s a beautiful, beautiful day!

  It’s not day yet, Leonard. It’s still fucking morning. Early fucking morning.

  Early to bed, early to rise, that is the man who wins the prize.

  I laugh.

  What the fuck happened to you?

  Wonderful things.

  Like what?

  I’m coming to town. I’ll tell you in person.

  When are you coming?

  Today. Meet me at the hotel for lunch.

  Okay.

  See you then, SEE YOU THEN!

  I laugh.

  Yeah, see you then.

  I hang up the phone, go back to sleep. I wake up around noon, take a shower, walk down to the hotel. Leonard and Snap are sitting in the restaurant when I walk in they stand. Leonard speaks.

  My son.

  Leonard.

  He hugs me, releases. I look at Snap.

  Long time.

  Been busy.

  Good to see you.

  You too, kid.

  We sit. I speak.

  What’s the big news?

  Leonard smiles, reaches into his pocket, pulls out a plastic card, sets it in front of me.

  Phone cards.

  I laugh.

  Phone cards?

  You got it. Phone cards.

  So what.

  So what? Think, my Son, think.

  You want me to make a phone call?

  No.

  You want me to sell it?

  No.

  I have no idea. It’s a phone card. I can buy one of those anywhere.

  Leonard shakes his head.

  Not one of these.

  It’s somehow different?

  Leonard nods.

  Where have I been traveling for the last several months?

  All over the place.

  All over the place where?

  The Caribbean and Central America.

  Why would I go there and what does that have to do with me and my business and phone cards?

  No idea.

  Think, my son, think.

  Just tell me.

  Leonard looks at Snapper.

  He has no vision.

  Snapper shrugs, speaks.

  Some people don’t.

  It’s obvious to me.

  He ain’t you.

  Leonard looks back at me.

  As you know, a large portion of my income is generated through the making and taking of bets. As you can imagine, the manner in which I take these bets, and the organization set up to handle and administrate them, is entirely illegal.

  Right.

  For a number of reasons, I don’t want my businesses to be illegal anymore. The two primary reasons are that with the implementation of RICO laws, which are designed to put people like me away, my life has become increasingly more difficult. I’m tired of being followed, surveyed, I’m tired of fucking FBI agents harassing people who do business with me, I’m tired of having to monitor everyone I fucking know to make sure they’re not ratting me out. I don’t want to go to jail. I don’t want to die in jail. I have some things I want to do before I’m gone and I will not be able to do them if I’m in jail. If I legalize my businesses, I can’t be sent to jail.

  Perfectly understandable.

  The other reason is the pledge I made to my dying Father, which was to play the golf course where he labored as a lawn-mower and play it just like one of the fucking members. As you know, I have had a very difficult time doing this. One of the reasons it has been so difficult is because I am a known criminal. If I stop being a criminal, and I can prove I have stopped being a criminal, it may open certain doors for me.

  Also perfectly understandable.

  In 1982, the Federal government ordered the break-up of AT&T, which held a monopoly on local and long distance telephone services. The break-up was ordered so that competition would be spurred and consumers would no longer be forced to pay rates that were much higher than they should have been. More recently, the Telecommunications Act was passed because the net result of the ’82 break-up wasn’t as positive as was hoped. The new act opens long distance lines to dozens of new phone companies, most of which will go out of business. A few won’t, and a few will carve out specific little niches, and one of those niches is the phone card business.

  Leonard picks up the card.

  You buy a card, you have a specific amount of money on the card, ten dollars, twenty dollars, fifty dollars, whatever, you make long distance calls through the card company’s operators, you talk until the card runs out and then you buy another one. You with me?

  I nod.

  Yeah, I’m with you.

  You understand where I’m going with this?

  No I don’t.

  Leonard looks at Snapper, speaks.

  He has no vision.

  It ain’t that, it’s that you got a lot. That’s why you’re in charge.

  He’s my son, he should have it too.

  Well he don’t, and that’s that.

  Leonard looks back at me.

  Do you happen to know what’s legal in the Caribbean and certain parts of Central and South America that is illegal here?

  I would imagine there are a few things.

  You’re right about that, but what that might be directly related to me?

  Again, probably a few things, but I’m guessing from this conversation that you’re referring to gambling.

  Bingo! It’s a fucking gambler’s paradise down there. And what isn’t legal becomes legal with a wad of hundreds slipped into the hands of the correct local official. I love it, I fucking love it.

  I laugh.

  So what does that have to do with phone cards?

  Phone cards make it all legal, and let me make money off it regardless of the outcome of the bets.

  How is that?

  I recently relocated the bulk of the people who work for me in my gambling businesses to the Caribbean and certain parts of Central and South America, where what they do is entirely legal. I’m having everyone who places bets through my people buy phone cards from the phone card company that I now own
, and I am charging very high rates for those calls. All of the money involved is moved through offshore banks, which are not beholden to the laws of this country, and the only person breaking the law in this equation is the individual placing the bet on American soil.

  Really?

  Let’s say you were one of my clients. You go to a retail location that sells my phone cards. You buy a few of them. You call a number you’ve been given, that’s been mailed to you from an offshore location. That number only receives calls through the operators who work for my phone company and who take calls using my phone cards. They put you through to someone sitting at a desk in a location where gambling is legal. That person takes your bet, and either takes a credit card number or provides you with wiring instructions for payment. You place your bet, you are given a confirmation number. The call costs you ten dollars per minute. You have broken the law by placing the bet, but no one on my end has broken the law because they are all working in places where their activities are legal.

  You’re sure about all this?

  There are a few gray areas, but they’re gray enough so that if someone wants to arrest me or tries to prosecute me, I’ll tie them up in court for fucking decades.

  Very impressive, Leonard.

  I’m going to send the Federal Prosecutor in Las Vegas a note inviting him to come over to my house and kindly kiss my ass.

  I laugh, Snapper laughs. Leonard looks around.

  I hope those fuckers have someone watching or listening to us right now.

  He lifts his middle finger, waves it around.

  If so, this is for you, because you’re not gonna get me, you fuckers.

  I laugh again. When I stop, I speak.

  Congratulations, Leonard.

  Thank you.

  I’m incredibly impressed.

  Thank you.

  We should celebrate.

  Why do you think we’re here?

  Good. This time, though, I’m taking care of the check.

  No, that’s not how it works.

  It is tonight.

  No.

  Leonard.

  What?

  I hold up a wad of cash.

  This is the last of the money I made working for you. I’ve been keeping it so I could spend it on one of our dinners. You’re going to shut the fuck up and let me take care of the check tonight.

  He laughs.

  Thank you, my son, thank you.

  I cut up the fake driver’s license throw it away Jimmy Testardo no longer exists.