The Last Deep Breath Read online

  Grey scoured the streets. He watched Premium Friends. He tried it again and the bouncers sapped him and left him lying on the edge of the East River.

  He waited for her to find him again. But she was gone.

  He had to move, even if he went nowhere fast.

  So he sold the big entertainment system and the rest of his belongings, cleaned out his bank account, and drove across the country, heading west, killing time, meeting women who wanted to off their husbands. The coast pulled at him, like lips sucking out venom. He got closer and closer. He did his best to wait for Pax. He probably would’ve held out until Pax was back in the States if he hadn’t met Kendra and been led right to the town where he wanted to go. He was going to visit Harvey Wallbanger and his twelve-inch wonder of the world. It was just the way it had to be.

  11

  Kendra had been right, Monty didn’t want to turn over the contact info for the porn actors where Harvey Wallbanger would be listed under his real name.

  “You took my gun, didn’t you?” Monty asked.

  “Yeah,” Grey admitted.

  It got Monty sort of dancing around his office, on display in the big fish bowl. “You going to shoot some porn actress? That it? You that kind of crazy? See her screw fifty other guys on screen but you figure she’s yours, you love her, you’re going to save her, set her up in house and home, she’s going to be mother of your kids? That what you’re after?”

  Grey wasn’t sure how many questions that was, so he hoped one answer would cover them all. “No.”

  “What’s it all about?”

  “Do you really need to know, Monty?”

  “I think I do.”

  Monty had the list right there on his desk. Grey could’ve just chopped the guy in the throat and walked out with the information while Monty crawled on all fours gagging and barking like a dog. But Grey didn’t feel the need to go that way and decided to just lay it out. Maybe Kendra was right, he was getting into character, running his lines, finding out who he was, or who he was supposed to be.

  “Okay then,” Grey said. “My sister was in the biz under the name Eva Rains. She and a guy named Harvey Wallbanger were apparently a real-life couple. She left porn, probably due to drugs. She dropped a rung on the ladder and came to New York, maybe to be an escort. She was hurt badly by someone she called Johnny. Then she vanished on me. Maybe she’s back in L.A. So I’m here to see if I can get a line on her. I want to talk to Harvey. That okay with you, Monty?”

  A couple of famous actors that Grey recognized walked by on the other side of the glass wall. Just a few months ago he might’ve gone after them for an autograph, talked up what his favorite scenes from their films were. But his DVD collection was scattered across six pawn shops in Manhattan now and his love for film seemed to have gone with it. He couldn’t stop thinking about the collapsed veins and the tracks between Ellie’s toes. He thought of Ellie’s dog tasered to death by the cops. It seemed to be a metaphor for something but he didn’t know what. He wondered if Harvey had really cared about her and failed to protect or if he’d only been another part of the problem. Grey’s thoughts were splashing everywhere like a wave hitting the rocks.

  Monty was talking. “—hand you his name and contact info, I want you to promise me that you’re not going to—”

  “Monty, just give me the—”

  “—go psycho and start blasting away.”

  “I told you, I’d deal with it.”

  “And what’s Kenny think of this bold plan?”

  Grey finally understood that Monty was stalling because he was putting together his own scheme.

  He didn’t give a damn if Grey put six in Harvey’s face or not. Whether Grey did go crazy because he thought he was in love with a porn princess. He’d just been feeling Grey out, trying to see how on the edge he was, and whether Monty could put it to use, get in behind him and push him the rest of the way.

  “All right, spit it out,” Grey said. “What’s on your mind?”

  At last Monty smiled. He didn’t have to pretend any longer. For a guy who made his living off of actors Monty proved to be a really terrible one. He sat at his desk and stretched out, thought about putting his feet up but then decided against it. He pulled out two glasses and a bottle of Jameson’s from the bottom drawer of his desk, a bottle that hadn’t been there a couple days ago when Grey had riffled the place. Monty didn’t want to waste the bourbon.

  He poured the whiskey.

  ”I think I have a little job for you first,” he said.

  Funds were running low. Grey could use some kind of a payday.

  “What kind of job?”

  “I want you to kill my wife.”

  12

  Christ, another maniac. There must’ve been some ancient curse woven into the wedding vows, you kissed the bride and bloody murder passed between your tongues.

  Grey couldn’t do much more than stare at the guy, wondering why it was everyone thought he was a killer. Did he really have a baby face that somehow looked mean? He caught his reflection in the glass and thought he looked like anyone else. The secretary walked by and gave him a grin. Would she do that if he looked like a killer?

  “You’ve got a gun,” Monty said.

  “I’ve got your gun, you moron.”

  “I’ll get you another one. Shoot her with the other one.”

  “I’m not shooting anyone with anything.”

  But Monty thought he was being suave again and put on a Cheshire smile, like he thought he had Grey by the nuts. “You took my gun for a reason. You’re going to kill Harvey Wallbanger!”

  “I’m not going to kill him either,” Grey said, thinking, Well, not unless he’s Johnny. Unless he put a four-inch blade into my sister. Then yeah.

  “You stole from me. You owe me.”

  “Monty, you can only leverage someone you’ve got some kind of control over.” Grey tried to be reasonable. “You ever think of, you know, marriage counseling as a first measure here? Or maybe just get a divorce?”

  “That bitch isn’t getting a dime off me. Now, I need you to do this job for me.”

  “Go hire a hitter.”

  “I looked into it. You know how much they cost?” A deep whine worked itself into Monty’s voice. “They’re expensive!”

  “Do it yourself then.”

  When things started spinning this far out of control Grey would try to imagine what Pax would do in his place. It was a futile exercise because Grey couldn’t get beyond the fact that Pax would never allow himself to get into this kind of situation. Still, he tried to see it. Pax in the room, sitting where Grey sat, staring over at Monty, talking about killing the wife. But it broke down and faded in his mind. Pax would never find himself here.

  Grey got up and stepped over to the desk. When Monty tried to hurl himself on top of the porn list Grey tapped him lightly on the jaw. Monty flew backwards into his chair as if he’d been shotgunned.

  “You punched me, you prick! I’ll sue!”

  Grey grabbed the pages and read Harvey Wallbanger’s info. Real name: Paul Avon. No home address listed. Shit, he should’ve realized the contact info would be through the actor’s representation.

  Monty Stobbs.

  “You little goddamn weasel,” Grey said.

  “Paul is a highly valued client of mine. If you snuff him, I lose a lot of money.”

  “I told you, I’m not snuffing him or anyone. If he’s a valued client then you must’ve known my sister when she performed as Eva Rains.”

  “I met Eva, yes.”

  “Okay, then. Talk to me.”

  Grey threw the listing on the floor, put a foot on Monty’s chair and shoved him to the wall. Monty sat there sort of pinned, tried to hold on to his cool but couldn’t keep his gaze from twitching all around. Grey waited, letting his silence speak for him. Sometimes you couldn’t say how serious you were, you just had to let the other person feel it.

  Monty finally met Grey’s eyes and that was all that was nece
ssary.

  “Tell me about her,” Grey said.

  “There’s not much to tell, really. I only started repping Harvey about a year ago. He and your sister were almost done by then. They had been something of a team but he wanted out. She was too deep into the shit and it was starting to show in her performance and her looks. He said he’d tried getting her help but it wouldn’t take. So he was going it alone. I met her at a Christmas party at their place. She was drunk and high but seemed like a nice kid. She didn’t realize he’d cut her loose yet, I suppose. Harvey got a new apartment and became my client. That’s it.”

  No reason to believe any of it was a lie. “Where is he now?”

  “Lives in the valley.”

  “I mean right now, this minute.”

  “On a shoot in Van Nuys.”

  “I want to see him.”

  “You can’t disrupt a shoot! Security will throw you out!”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  Clucking and groaning, Monty wrote the address out for him and Grey walked out of the fish bowl, got down to his car and re-entered the blazing sunlight.

  When he got back to the apartment Kendra was stretched out on the bed waiting for him. No small talk, no can I fix you a sandwich. No how was your day, dear.

  ”I think you should find a new agent,” he told her. “Get dressed, you’re showing me how to get to Van Nuys.”

  13

  Turned out it wasn’t a studio or a set, but a mansion with an even higher wall and a larger gate than those in Beverly Hills. There was a bored guard in the little booth who asked Grey his name.

  Grey said, “I’m Monty Stobbs, Hollywood super-agent. I represent Mr. Harvey Wallbanger.”

  The guard called up to the house and a few seconds later opened the gate.

  “So much for security,” Kendra said.

  “You’re a fan of Harvey’s. Now you get to see him up close.”

  “I have to admit I’m curious.”

  “Figured you would be.”

  “Is that jealousy I detect?”

  “No.”

  Grey parked up at the house and they stepped up a large Italian marble walkway that led to a porticoed entrance. The door was open so they waltzed right in.

  Inside there was lots of action, lights, people walking all over the place. None of this quiet on the set. Grey smelled peppered chicken and turned to see a caterer’s table set up against the far wall. People were eating and drinking coffee. A photographer was taking photos of the scene.

  “That’s him,” Kendra said.

  “On the table?”

  “Yeah.”

  Harvey was busy kneeling on a dining room table behind a twenty-something girl. Around them sat about fifteen extras who were making small talk while eating soup and drinking wine. Grey figured this was some kind of homage to German expressionism or some shit. The girl had fake breasts that didn’t move an inch no matter how many acrobatics she and Harvey threw into the mix. A boom handler kept the mic up close on the performers. The director kept calling out positions. “Now into cowgirl...now reverse...now Mish...” Harvey followed through as commanded. The rest of the diners started to join in and soon an orgy was in progress. Harvey’s girl was making orgasmic noises that sounded so fake and painful that Grey figured she was going to hyperventilate soon and pass out under the candelabra.

  “My biggest movie we had a crew only half this size,” Kendra said.

  “You’re in the wrong biz.”

  “I suppose I am.”

  They watched the shenanigans for a little while longer. It was much more boring than Grey had been expecting. Harvey had trouble finishing off. The director told everyone to freeze until Harvey got his shit together. It seemed like it was going to take some time.

  “Let’s get a coffee,” Grey said.

  He and Kendra crashed the caterers table and munched on some buffalo wings and antipasto. Between bites she asked, “So what do you think of him?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Up close, I’m not impressed. He gets a lot of help in the editing room.”

  Besides his non-functioning twelve-inch wonder of the world Harvey looked like pretty much any other guy on the block. He kept his hair closely cropped, wore a little peach fuzz beard, had tribal tattoos to show he was a man of the world. He had an armband crown of thorns that matched Ellie’s. Grey couldn’t really read his eyes because Harvey was caught up in his fuck face expressions.

  “Are you going to pull the gun on him before you introduce yourself or after?” she asked.

  “Which do you think will make the biggest impression?”

  “Probably before.”

  Kendra knew one of the lighting guys and struck up a conversation. Grey watched as Harvey finally pulled the trigger to the applause of the cast and crew. Folks shook his hand. Grey wondered why in the fuck anybody would shake anybody’s hand during a porn shoot until after they’d hit the showers, but clearly he didn’t know how things worked around here.

  Harvey put on a robe and followed the girl he’d just banged up a large staircase. A few of the other performers marched upstairs as well. Grey wondered if he should wait for Harvey to clean up and come back down or approach on the move.

  He told Kendra, “Back in a minute,” but she was so busy primping for the lighting guy that she didn’t respond.

  Grey stood at the bottom of the stairs and tried to imagine what Pax would do. But he figured Pax would have waited until Harvey got home to his place in the valley and wouldn’t attack him in the middle of a porn set cleanup.

  Well, Pax was making the world safe for democracy and wasn’t here. Grey took the steps three at a time. The second floor had two large hallways with six or seven doors. It wasn’t hard finding the right one. The sound of squealing emerged from the end of the corridor. Grey figured what the hell and walked in.

  It was a bathroom about three times the size of his old apartment in New York. To the right was a claw-foot bathtub with two hot chicks in it, a huge shower currently occupied by several folks behind a beveled glass door, a sink you could bathe in, and a counter covered with three different drugs he could name and a couple he couldn’t. Two of the orgy guys were sniffing coke off the rock hard tits of the girl who’d been Harvey’s partner.

  To the left was a large hot tub. Harvey was alone in it. He had lain back and looked half-asleep.

  Grey thought, Where’s the toilet? A thousand square feet of bathroom and no shitter?

  He shook his head, stepped over to Harvey, and said, “I’m Ellie’s brother.”

  Harvey opened his eyes. He was a kid who took everything in stride. He yawned and scratched his peach fuzz. “Ellie didn’t have a brother.”

  “She did and she does. Have you heard from her recently?”

  “Been almost a year since we split up, man.”

  “I know. Have you been in touch since?”

  “You some kind of a crazy fan, man? Eva Rains always had the craziest goddamn fans after her. She encouraged that kind of crap. That what you’re about?”

  Grey decided he might have a little better luck if he used Harvey’s real name. “Paul, I really am Ellie’s brother. Tell me what happened before the two of you broke up.”

  A couple of the orgy chicks broke from the shower and hopped into the hot tub. They giggled and sighed and murmured, oblivious to Grey and everything else. Harvey kissed one of the ladies and within a minute was almost asleep again.

  So much for this.

  Grey grabbed Harvey by the back of the neck and forced his head under the bubbling waters. The girls didn’t open their eyes. For the first few seconds Harvey didn’t even struggle, stoned and just going with it.

  Then he started to struggle a bit, and then a bit more, and then he began to thrash down there. Grey left him under the foam for another ten-count, then pulled him up.

  Coughing and sputtering, Harvey turned his face to Grey, his eyes finally showing some focus and interest.
>
  One of the orgy guys walked over and said, “Hey, anything wrong?”

  “No trouble,” Grey said. “I’m a trained lifeguard. Get the fuck out of here.”

  He hauled Harvey out of the water.

  “Wait, man, wait...what...?”

  “Okay, now we can dialogue. My sister. Have you heard from her since you split up?”

  Harvey Wallbanger’s hands went up in front of his face like he expected to lose what few looks he had. “No, man, no no!”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “What happened when?”

  “What happened when you split.”

  “She left, man, she left, that’s all! She got in deep into heroin, fucking nobody does heroin anymore. That’s not a righteous high. It kills everything. We started fighting, she was costing us jobs. So we parted ways, totally amicable, I’m telling you.”

  “Who’s Johnny?”

  “Who’s Johnny who, man?”

  One of the girls opened an eye and said, “I think he means her manager, Harvey. That old fat fucker.”

  Harvey’s eyes lit. “Yeah, yeah. That’s right. Name was John. Yeah. John...Raymond. Right. That who you mean, man? John Raymond?”

  The girls over in the claw-foot tub were starting to get into each other, which was sort of distracting. Grey found a towel and tossed it to Harvey. “Let’s go talk next door.”

  14

  Next door was an empty bedroom. Jesus, there was a guy in a little booth out front but nobody around the house to keep assholes out of your closets. The hell kind of town was this?

  Harvey sat on the bed. With his crank covered over he looked a little pathetic, like a child held after class. Grey was worried he might start crying. For this he’d been carrying Monty’s .32?

  “Tell me more about Ellie’s manager.”

  “There’s nothing to tell, man. After we decided to split up I got new representation with Monty Stobbs. You heard of him?”