"You know all that stuff," Chili said. "I don't mean just what movies are about, but other things, the business."

"I've been out here fifteen years and I pay attention," Karen said. "Harry's upset, and one of the reasons is my being offered a studio job. He said, 'I don't believe it,' because he still thinks of me as the girl he hired with nice t.i.ts and a great scream. My dad teaches quantum physics at a university and my mother's a real estate broker, has her own company and is incredibly successful; she has a super business mind. I'm not saying I follow after either one of them exactly, but I didn't come into the world on a bus to L.A. I have a background. I know more about the film industry now than Harry does because I keep up, I know what's going on and I have good story sense. Elaine knows that, it's why she wants to hire me."

"You gonna take the job?"

"I'm thinking about it," Karen said. "Meanwhile, poor Harry's off trying to raise money, so he can hire a writer ..."

Chili paused, about to sip his drink.

"... and get deeper in debt. That's where he went, to talk to his investors."

Chili said, "You mean the limo guys?"

"I know it's the same ones he's been trying to avoid. I said, 'Harry, you told me you've been dying to get out from under them,' and he said he didn't have a choice."

"He went to their office?"

"No, they're meeting somewhere ... Tribeca, it's on Beverly Drive."

Chili put his drink down. "Can we have dinner there?"

Karen said, "If you'd like," and stared at him for maybe ten seconds before she said, "Harry's a big boy," and continued to stare as if wanting him to say something. "Isn't he?"

Chili got up. He said, "You ready?"

They were in the big corner booth upstairs at Tribeca, Catlett, Harry, now the Bear sliding in and Catlett had to stop what he was saying to introduce his a.s.sociate, this former movie stuntman, bodybuilder and health nut in the Hawaiian shirt. So what did the health nut do? Immediately dove into the bread basket and started eating rolls thick with b.u.t.ter, getting crumbs in his beard and all over the table in front of him. Now Harry, watching him, grabbed a roll for himself before they were gone. Harry was on his second Scotch, Catlett still sipping his ice-cold Pouilly-Fuisse. Harry had ordered the meatloaf, which Catlett liked the sound of, basic food, indicating the man was in a basic frame of mind and would not get tricky on him. Catlett had ordered the shrimp salad, not wanting to make this one his dinner; he'd have that later on at Mateo's with people he liked, some cute woman who'd laugh at his wit and bulls.h.i.t. The Bear ordered a beer- another simple soul-and would eat later, at home.

So far Catlett had explained once again he'd give Harry one hundred and seventy thousand dollars, interest and point free, pay it back when you can, for the privilege of working onLovejoy and learning from the expert how moving pictures were made. Fringe benefits would come up later. All he wanted, Catlett had mentioned this time, was some kind of small credit up on the screen, head gofer, anything, his friends would get a kick out of seeing. Now then ... and learning from the expert how moving pictures were made. Fringe benefits would come up later. All he wanted, Catlett had mentioned this time, was some kind of small credit up on the screen, head gofer, anything, his friends would get a kick out of seeing. Now then ...

"I told you it was your boy, didn't I, let me have the script?"

Harry didn't know who he meant. "My boy? ..."

"Chili Palmer, from Miami, Florida."

"He gave it to you?"

"Loaned it. Was the other night in your office."

Harry said, "Well, yousay you read it," not yet convinced. you read it," not yet convinced.

"Ask me something."

"All right, what's Lovejoy's brother-in-law's name?"

"You mean Stanley? I was thinking it wouldn't be bad if something happened to Stanley, the way he gets on your nerves. Even though as Lovejoy says to his sis, her and Stan have their own problems, being stuck with each other."

Now the man couldn't have a doubt in his head, just questions.

"Why'd he show it to you?"

"I thought maybe you told him to."

"I sent him to pick up a script, that's all."

"Well, he called me, I went over. Man, I've been wondering why ever since. This town, you don't want to go showing your ideas around. I know of a guy left a script in one of the limos and the producer fired him. I thought that was heavy. The producer-I won't mention his name, one of the big power players-he said if the guy wasn't any more reliable than that he didn't want him around."

Catlett sipped his wine, giving Harry a minute to think about it and then took a shot saying, "I asked this Chili Palmer what his position was and he said you and him were partners, gonna produce the movie together. It surprised me, him coming in off the street and not knowing s.h.i.t, you know, about the business. I noticed he didn't even know how to read a script, what some of the directions meant. Infact, he's talking about producing the movie with you, he hadn't even he's talking about producing the movie with you, he hadn't evenread it. Man, that didn't sound right to me." it. Man, that didn't sound right to me."

Harry picked up his roll and took a bite out of it like he was eating an apple, crumbs dribbling down the front of him. The Bear, spreading b.u.t.ter on his, paused to watch this.

"I don't mean to sound like I'm sticking my nose in your business," Catlett said, going at him again, "and if you don't care to tell me, don't. It's just I'm curious to know what this Chili Palmer does for you."

"Not much," Harry said.

Good, starting to speak.

"He run errands for you?"

"He has different functions, you might say."

"Kind of a tough guy, huh? That was how he came on," Catlett said. "See, I suspected you had him around to do heavy work, deal with me and Ronnie, and that was something I couldn't get straight in my head. What would you need him for? Has Ronnie ever given you any trouble? I know I haven't. Ronnie might've shot off his mouth, but that's Ronnie. Man, he's from Santa Barbara and he's gonna let you know it. Anyway, Ronnie isn't in this deal-the one hundred and seventy thousand dollars I'm giving you as working capital in good faith. You're gonna find out, Harry, I know more about movies than most people in the business. You watch me."

Harry said, "When can I have the money?"

Getting right down to business. Never mind all the bulls.h.i.t, huh? This was the meatloaf man.

"Whenever you want it, Harry. The money's in hundred dollar bills inside one of those jock bags, you know? In a locker at the airport, waiting to be picked up."

Harry looked at him. "The airport?"

"It was waiting out there on another deal, one that didn't go through you don't want to know about," Catlett said. "Or maybe you should knowsome thing about it. I don't want you to get in any trouble. It was money put there to make a buy, if you know what I mean." thing about it. I don't want you to get in any trouble. It was money put there to make a buy, if you know what I mean."

Harry picked up his gla.s.s and took a drink on that one.

"Yeah?"

But was still interested, look at that. Anxious.

"What I'm saying to you, Harry, you could go out there, take the bag out of the locker and be on your way, n.o.body bother you. But you never know who's hanging around that airport."

"You mean cops," Harry said.

"Well, that's possible, yeah. Maybe Drug Enforcement individuals-I don't know. I was thinking more of other people in the product trade know buys are made out there, money changing hands. You understand what I'm saying? They the ones you have to watch out might rip you off. Like if you look, I don't mean like one of them, but kinda suspicious, you act nervous taking the bag out of the locker ..."

"I don't know," Harry said, shaking his head.

Wanting it, you could tell, but afraid.

"It's what I'm saying, it's not the kind of thing you do," Catlett said. "That's why I was thinking you could send your boy, Chili Palmer. He gets. .h.i.t on the head you aren't out nothing."

They took Chili's rented Toyota, down Rodeo to Wilshire to come back around on Beverly Drive. On the way he told Karen about going into a restaurant on Little Santa Monica when he first got here. Went in all dressed up and was put way in the back after waiting at the bar about an hour, while these people who looked like they'd been out camping would come in and get the empty front tables right away. He told her about the worn-out leather jacket Michael had been wearing.

"You buy them new like that," Karen said. "What did you think of him?"

Chili said he thought he was basically a nice guy, but it was hard to tell. "He wason most of the time. I think he has trouble being just himself." most of the time. I think he has trouble being just himself."

"He do any imitations?"

"Michael Jackson."

"He used to do Howard Cosell constantly." She said, "You know it isn't easy being Michael Weir."

Chili didn't comment on that, thinking seven million ought to make it alittle easier. easier.

They were quiet and then she said, "What's Nicki like?"

"She's a rock-and-roll singer." He thought a moment and said, "She doesn't shave under her arms."

"Michael probably goes for that. He thinks he's earthy."

"You still like him?"

"I don't hold anything against him. He's Michael Weir ... and he's great."

"You mean his acting."

"What'd you think I meant, in bed? In bed he was funny."

"Funny in what way?"

"He wasfunny. He said funny things." He said funny things."

For a few moments they were quiet again.

"He's a lot shorter than I thought."

"That's not his fault," Karen said.

Chili dropped her off in front of Tribeca, a storefront kind of cafe with the name on the plate gla.s.s, and drove up the street looking for a place to park.

They weren't at that old-time-looking bar or anywhere on the main floor. Chili headed for the open stairway and started up. The place could be called the Manhattan or the Third Avenue, that's what it looked like, one of those typical overpriced New York bar-restaurants. The TriBeCa area, he thought of warehouses, buildings with lofts, but it was as good a name as any. He saw a railing along the upstairs, this end of it open, overlooking the bar. And he saw a guy standing near the top of the stairs, the guy a few steps down but not coming down, standing there waiting for him. A guy in a Hawaiian shirt with beef on him and a full reddish-brown beard.

Moving up the stairs Chili got a good look at the guy and his size. Now he saw Bo Catlett appear above the guy to stand on the top step, almost directly behind him, and Chili knew the guy wasn't going to move. He got within three steps of the guy and stopped, but not looking up now, not wanting to put himself in that awkward position, his head bent back. He was looking at the guy's waist now at eye level, where the Hawaiian shirt bloused out of the elastic band of the guy's blue pants, double-knit and tight on him.

Catlett's voice said, "I like you to meet my a.s.sociate, the Bear. Movie stuntman and champion weight lifter, as you might've noticed. Picks up and throws out things I don't want."

Chili looked at the thickness of the guy's body, at red and gold hibiscus blossoms and green leaves on a field of Hawaiian blue, but wouldn't look at his face now. He knew they were hibiscus, because Debbie used to grow them on Meridian Avenue before she flipped out and went back to Brooklyn.

Now the guy was saying, "I know Chili Palmer. I know all about him."

The Bear sucking in his stomach and acting tough, his crotch right there in Chili's face. This guy was as nuts as Debbie. You could tell he had his stomach sucked in, because the waistband was creased where the guy's gut ordinarily hung over and rolled it, the pants as out of shape as this guy trying to give him a hard time. But Chili didn't look up.

Catlett said, "We think you ought to turn around and go back to Miami."

Chili still didn't look up. Not yet.

The Bear said, "Take your ten grand with you, while you still have it."

And Chili almost looked up-this guy as much as telling him he had been in his hotel room, nothing to it, saw all that dough and left it-but he didn't. Chili kept his eyes on the guy's waist and saw the stomach move to press against the elastic band, the guy still putting on his show but giving his gut a breather. Chili looked at the guy's crotch one more time before moving his gaze up through the hibiscus till he was looking at the guy's bearded face.

Chili said, "So you're a stuntman," with the look he'd use on a slow pay. "Are you any good?"

What the Bear did in that next moment was grin and turn his head to the side, as if too modest to answer and would let Catlett speak for him. It made the next move easier, the guy not even looking as Chili grabbed a handful of his crotch, stepped aside and yanked him off the stairs. The Bear yelled out of pain and fear and caught Chili's head with an elbow going by, but it was worth it to see that beefy guy roll all the way down the stairs to land on the main floor. Chili kept watching till he saw the guy move, then looked up at Catlett.

"Not bad, for a guy his size."

Karen saw it.

There was a scene like it in an Eastwood picture only Clint grabs the guy a little higher. The thug asks him where he thinks he's going. She couldn't remember if Clint had a line. He's going upstairs in a hotel to have it out with Bobby Duvall. Grabs the guy with one hand and in a Reverse you see him tumble down the stairs to crash at the bottom. It was a western.

Karen had left the table within moments of seeing Catlett stop at the top of the stairs with the bearded guy, the Bear, in front of him, a few steps below, and knew they were waiting for Chili and something was going to happen. As a film sequence it would work from her point of view if she represented a third party in the scene. Then another setup to get the effect of it on her face. But there would have to be close shots too of what was going on. His hand grabbing the guy's crotch. A tight close-up reaction shot of the guy's face. As he begins to scream cut to a Reverse to see him go down the stairs. Catlett was down there now. They were leaving, the guy looking back this way, but not Catlett. Karen watched from the upstairs railing, people from tables around her now asking what happened. Chili was coming past the ones at the top of the stairs. She heard him say, "I guess the guy fell." Now he was looking at her. He came over and she said, "What did he do to you?" Chili shook his head. He touched her arm and they moved through the tables to the corner booth where Harry was standing with his drink in his hand.

Harry said, "What was that all about?"

Karen sat at one end of the round booth so she'd have an angle on both of them at once and wouldn't have to turn her head looking from one to the other. She moved the shrimp salad that hadn't been touched away from her, and the half gla.s.s of white wine. Chili brushed bread crumbs away from his place. He would look over, wanting to include her at first, telling them Catlett and the bearded guy, the Bear, had broken into his hotel room and gone through his things. Telling it matter-of-factly, making the point: "These are the kind of people you're dealing with, Harry. They want me out of the way so they can have a piece of you." Nice irony. The ex-mob guy telling Harry to look out for the limo guys, they're crooks.

Harry had been acting strange ever since she arrived and he introduced her to Catlett and Catlett introduced her to his friend the Bear and they let her stand there a few minutes, Harry's broad, nothing more, while Catlett spoke to him and placed a key on the table next to Harry's meatloaf. Most of it and the baked potato eaten; he hadn't touched his green beans. When Catlett got up he smiled and touched her arm and said it was a pleasure. A good-looking guy, he reminded her of Duke Ellington, dressed by Armani or out of that place on Melrose, Maxfield's, wearing about two thousand dollars' worth of clothes.