A million-dollar deal blown–and all Mickey Cohen could think of was a woman. “No.”
The bag was zipped up; Goldman walked it over extra slow. Buzz held his left arm out straight; Mickey was shaking like a hophead dying for a fix. Buzz wondered what he’d say next; the little big man said, “Please.”
The garment bag settled; Buzz felt his arm buckling. Dudley Smith winked. Buzz said, “I’ll be back for you, lad. Diaz and Hartshorn.”
Dudley laughed. “You won’t live the day.”
Buzz backed into the curtains. “Don’t go out the rear door, it’s booby-trapped.”
Mickey Cohen said, “Please. You can’t run with her. Not a hair on her head will I hurt.”
Buzz getawayed.
o o o
Johnny Stompanato was waiting for him at the motel, lying on the bed listening to an opera on the radio. Buzz dropped the garment bag, unzipped it and pulled out ten ten-thousand-dollar bank stacks. Johnny’s jaw dropped; his cigarette hit his chest and burned a hole in his shirt. He snuffed the butt with a pillow and said, “You did it.”
Buzz threw the money on the bed. “Fifty for you, fifty for Mrs. Celeste Considine, 641 South Gramercy, LA. You make the delivery, and tell her it’s for the kid’s education.”
Stompanato hoarded the money into a tight little pile and gloated over it. “How do you know I won’t keep it all?”
“You like my style too much to fuck me.”
o o o
Buzz drove up to Ventura, parked in front of Deputy Dave Kleckner’s house and rang the bell. Audrey answered. She was wearing an old Mickey shirt and dungarees, just like she was the first time he kissed her. She looked at the garment bag and said, “Planning to stay awhile?”
“Maybe. You look tired.”
“I was up all night thinking.”
Buzz put his hands to her face, smoothing a wisp of stray hair. “Dave home?”
“Dave’s on duty until late, and I think he’s in love with me.”
“Everybody’s in love with you.”
“Why?”
“Because you make them afraid to be alone.”
“Does that include you?”
“Me especially.”
Audrey jumped into his arms. Buzz let go of the garment bag and kicked it for luck. He carried his lioness into the front bedroom and made a swipe at the light switch; Audrey grabbed his hand. “Leave it on. I want to see you.”
Buzz got out of his clothes and sat on the edge of the bed; Audrey slow-grinded herself naked and leaped on him. They kissed ten times as long as they usually did and strung out everything else they’d ever done together. Buzz went into her fast, but moved extra slow; she pushed up with her hips harder than she did their first time. He couldn’t hold it and didn’t want to; she went crazy when he did. Like the first time, they thrashed the sheets off the bed and held each other, sweating. Buzz remembered how he’d hooked a finger around Audrey’s wrist so they’d still be touching while he caught his breath. He did it again, but this time she squeezed his whole hand like she didn’t know what the gesture meant.
They curled up, Audrey nuzzling. Buzz looked around the strange bedroom. Passport applications and stacks of South American tourist brochures were resting on the nightstand and boxes of women’s clothing were arrayed by the door next to a brand-new suitcase. Audrey yawned, kissed his chest like it was sleep time and yawned again. Buzz said, “Sweetie, did Mickey ever hit you?”
A drowsy head shake in answer. “Talk later. Lots of talk later.”
“Did he ever?”
“No, only men.” Another yawn. “No Mickey talk, remember our deal?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Audrey gave him a squeeze and settled into sleep. Buzz picked up the brochure closest to him, a huckster job for Rio de Janeiro. He flipped pages, saw that Audrey had circled listings for guest cottages offering newlywed rates and tried to picture an on-the-lam cop-killer and a thirty-seven-year-old ex-stripper basking in the South American sun. He couldn’t. He tried to picture Audrey waiting for him while he attempted to lay off twenty-five pounds of heroin to some renegade mob guy who hadn’t already heard of the heist and the contract that went with it. He couldn’t. He tried to picture Audrey with him when the LAPD closed in, hard-on glory cops holding their fire because the killer was with a woman. He couldn’t. He thought of Icepick Fritzie finding them together, going icepick crazy on Audrey’s face–and that picture was easy. Mickey saying “Please” and going mushy with forgiveness was even easier.