Get Shorty (12 page)

Chili walked toward the desk thinking he'd better nail the guy right away, not say a word, hit him with the phone, wrap the cord around his neck and drag him out. Except the guy had not busted the door, jimmied the lock, he wasn't robbing the place, he was sitting there with his glasses on reading a script. The guy telling him now, “I started reading, I couldn't put it down. I'm at the part—let's see, about fifteen pages to go—Lovejoy's coming out of court with his sister, can't believe what's happened to him.” Chili reached the red leather chairs facing the desk, the guy saying, “I want to know how it ends, but don't tell me.” Saying, “Yeah, I can see why Harry's dying to do it.”

The guy talking about the script, but saying to Chili at the same time, Let's see how cool you are.

Chili sat down in one of the red leather chairs. He unbuttoned the jacket of his pinstripe suit to get comfortable and said, “I don't like the title either.”

For a moment he saw that dreamy look in the man's eyes, almost a smile.

“You understand I knew Harry was lying,” Catlett said. “I'm talking about his saying this wasn't
any good, but holding on to it, man, like you have to break his fingers to get it from him.” Catlett paused. “I'm explaining to you what I'm doing here. Case you think I come to rob the place, rip off any this dusty old shit the man has.”

Chili said, “No, I'd never make you as a burglar, not with that suit you have on. It tells me what you do—when you're not taking people for rides in your limo.”

“It's funny, I was thinking along the same line,” Catlett said. “Guys in your business you don't see dressed up much anymore, but you have a nice suit of clothes on.”

“You mean the movie business,” Chili said.

There was that little slow gleam in Catlett's eyes again, showing understanding, maybe appreciation.

“Movie people don't dress up either, ‘cept the agents. You see an agent duded up it means he's taking a serious meeting someplace, at a studio or a network. Or he wants you to think it's what he's doing. Or the older crowd, at Chasen's, in the front room, they dress up. But I'm talking about your
main
business, working for the Italians.”

“Yeah? How you know that?”

“Man, listen to you. You street, same as me, only we from different sides of it,” Catlett said. “See, the first thing I wonder about I see you, I ask myself, What's this man Chili Palmer doing here? Is he'n investor? Harry called you his associate, but what does that mean? I never heard your name spoken in the business or read it in
Variety
or
The Reporter
or anyplace. I kept thinking till it came to me. It's wiseguy money financing
Lovejoy
and Frank DePhillips, the man, put you here to look out for
Harry, see he doesn't mess up or keep people like myself from bothering him.”

“You're part right,” Chili said.

“Part or mostly?”

“You know DePhillips?”

“Enough about him.”

“Then you oughta know if I worked for a guy like DePhillips,” Chili said, “we wouldn't be talking. I would've thrown you out that window by now. I don't work for him and I don't work for Harry, either. It's what he said, I'm his associate.”

Catlett slipped his glasses off. “You must bring something heavy to the deal.”

“That's right, me,” Chili said, and watched the man's smile come all the way, showing goldwork on his teeth.

Catlett said, “But no special talent, huh? Walk in off the street and become a film producer. You the financial or the creative side?”

“Don't worry about it.”

“Can I ask you—how 'bout your lead? Who you see for Lovejoy?”

“We're getting Michael Weir.”

“Hey, shit, come on. How you gonna do that?”

“I put a gun right here,” Chili said, touching the side of his head, “and I tell him, ‘Sign the paper, Mikey, or you're fuckin dead.' Like that.”

“I wonder,” Catlett said, “would that work. Man, it would simplify dealing with movie stars. They get temper'mental on you, lay the piece alongside their head. ‘Get back to work, motherfucker.' Yeah, Michael Weir, he'd be good. You got anybody else?”

“We're working on it.”

“You know who I see for Al Roxy? Harvey Keitel. The man could do it with his eyes closed. But
you know who else? Morgan Freeman. You know who I mean?”

Chili said, “Yeah, Morgan Freeman. But he's a colored guy.”

“Where's it say in the script he's white? Color is what the part needs, man, somebody to do it has some style. The way it is now Ronnie could do it, play himself, a cracked-out asshole. You also what you need is a good woman part, get some love in it. The only women you have now, you have Lovejoy's sister, on his ass all the time, and you have that whore friend of Roxy's, but she's only in two scenes.”

Chili was trying to think of the name of the girl in the one page of the script he'd read. Not Irene . . .

“You know what I'm saying? A good juicy woman part.”

Chili gave him a nod, still trying to think of the girl's name.

“You have Lovejoy smelling his flowers, right. So what you need is a woman different than he is to come along and help him out. Like, say, Theresa Russell, man. Or the one, what's her name? Greta something . . .”

“Greta Scacchi,” Chili said.

“That's the one. That's how you pronounce it, huh, Skacky? I never knew that. I heard Scotchy, I never heard Skacky.”

“You're hearing it now,” Chili said.

“Sexy woman. You can go either way, Greta or Theresa Russell,” Catlett said. “Take Roxy's friend the whore and make her more important. You understand? Like he beats up on her, so she goes to Lovejoy, tells him something important will help him out, just about the time he's thinking of giving up.”

Chili remembered the girl's name in the script. “There's Ilona.”

“What about her?”

“Get something going there.”

“With
Ilona
? You know how old Ilona is?”

Chili got out a cigarette and lit it. He felt the guy watching him. “Yeah, she's young.”

“She's sixteen,” Catlett said, “same age as Lovejoy's kid, Bernard, she calls Bernie.”

“I was thinking you could make her older.”

The guy kept staring at him.

“You do that, you lose her telling things to Lovejoy about his own son he don't know about, when he thought he was so close to the boy.” Catlett paused a moment and said, “Have you
read
this?”

“Part of it, yeah.”

“
Part
of it?” Catlett said, sitting back in Harry's creaky chair. “You know what it's about?”

“I know Lovejoy's following this other guy . . .”

There was a silence, not long, Chili and Catlett looking at each other until Catlett said, “Al Roxy, the one he's following around, killed his kid.”

“Killed him—how?”

“Ran over him with his car. On his way home drunk, hits the kid crossing the street and keeps going. It's right in front of Lovejoy's flower shop. He sees it happen and almost goes to pieces right there, his boy laying dead. Before this we know Lovejoy's wife left him and all he has is this boy. The boy and his flower business, that's his whole life.”

Chili didn't say anything.

He hadn't read the script, so the guy was telling him about it and it seemed okay. Why not? Saying now there was a witness who got the license number . . .

“So the cops pick up Roxy, he says he didn't know he hit anybody. It's the next day, so there's no way to tell he was drinking, but they have evidence, find some blood on his car matches up . . . Anyway, Roxy's lawyer does a job on the court and all the man gets is his license suspended, can't drive a car for six months. Lovejoy, he's at the court hearing, can't believe it. That's
all
? The motherfucker kills my kid and that's all he gets? That's what he's thinking, but see, the man is too . . . well, he's too timid to come out and say anything. After it's over Roxy says to Lovejoy, ‘Tough break. But the kid shouldn't have run out in the street.' Or, ‘The kid should have watched where he was going.' Something like that.”

“What's Roxy do?” Chili said. “I mean, what kind of work?”

“He runs a body shop. You know, bump and paint. Does good too. This is in Detroit it takes place, Harry's hometown, though he don't have a fondness for the city like I do. I lived there nine years.”

A question popped into Chili's mind.

“You ever do time?”

The guy started to smile, then let it go.

“I been bound over, but no jail time, no.”

“So what happens?”

“Lovejoy gets it into his head Roxy, sooner or later, is gonna drive his car, this Cadillac. So what Lovejoy does, he takes his florist delivery van and changes it over. Paints out the name, has peep-holes cut in the sides and gets in there with a video camera. He's gonna stay on Roxy every time the man shows himself. The minute he ever drives off in a car, Lovejoy is gonna have it on tape and show it to the cops.”

“Ilona helps him out?”

“She drives him after school and they talk about Bernard, the kid. See, but now he's letting his business go to hell and his sister gets on him. Her and her husband, this big asshole that's always giving Lovejoy a hard time. It's good the way it starts out, but then it gets slow in the middle. You see Roxy, what he's doing. Likes to drink, likes to gamble, but you don't see him do anything so bad you get the idea the man's dangerous. You know what I'm saying? Like if Lovejoy gets too close and Roxy sees what he's doing, Lovejoy could get taken out. What I was thinking was if Lovejoy finds out the man's got some kind of crooked deal going.”

“Using his place as a chop shop,” Chili said. “Buys hot cars, cuts 'em up and sells the parts.”

“Yeah, that's the kind of thing. Then get the woman in it, she's the one tells Lovejoy what the setup is.”

“He catch the guy driving or not?”

“Yeah, he catches him, videos the man driving down the road. Catches him the last day he's gonna do this.”

“The guy doesn't see him?”

“Never suspects a thing. So Lovejoy puts it on him, shows his tape to the cops. They pick up Roxy, there's a court hearing and what you suppose he gets? His license taken away again, this time for a year. Lovejoy is right back where he started only worse. He gets sued by Roxy for annoying him, invading his privacy, different other legal shit and the court decides in favor of Roxy. Lovejoy has to pay him a hundred thousand in damages. Coming out of court his sister is calling him a fool, saying now you
have to sell your business and you got nothing. That's where I ended off.” Catlett picked up the script. “With, yeah, fifteen pages to go.”

Chili said, “You don't know how it ends? Take a look.”

“I don't cheat, look at the end when I read something. But it's good, huh? What would you do,” Catlett said, “you were Lovejoy?”

“I know guys,” Chili said, “would cut Roxy in half with a chain saw
.
”

“Yeah, but what would you do?”

“I'd have to think about it.”

“I'd shoot the man in the head,” Catlett said. “Set him up and do it.”

“You like to think you would,” Chili said. “Take a look, find out.” Chili reached over, picked up one of the red-covered scripts from the desk and opened it. “What page you on?”

Catlett was looking at his script. “Ninety-two. They come out of the courthouse, his sister's on his ass. Then the brother-in-law, Stanley, gets on him.”

Chili found the page, began to read:

EXT. COURTHOUSE ­ DAY

ANGLE ON Lovejoy's van pulling up in front. Ilona gets out, her expression distraught as she looks up and sees:

REVERSE ­ ILONA'S POV

Lovejoy and Helen coming out of the courthouse followed closely by Stanley. Helen is already speaking as they pause at the top of the stairs.

ANGLE ON LOVEJOY, HELEN AND STANLEY

Lovejoy sees Ilona, a wistful smile touches his face.

HELEN

You're so smart, aren't you? Now you have nothing, and you brought it all on yourself.

STANLEY

If you're thinking of coming to us for help, forget it.

Lovejoy turns to Stanley with a level gaze.

LOVEJOY

I wouldn't dream of it, Stanley. Besides, you both have your own problems.

STANLEY

(scowling)

What're you talking about?

LOVEJOY

Being married to each other.

(starts down

the stairs)

Have a nice day.

ANGLE ON ILONA, WATCHING

As Lovejoy approaches and we hear Stanley CALL after him.

STANLEY (O.S.)

No more Sunday dinner at our house, Roger!

Lovejoy gives Ilona a wry grin.

LOVEJOY

At least some good has come of this.

They get in the van and drive off.

 

Chili looked at Catlett turning pages, skimming through the script. “I think when Stanley opens his mouth Lovejoy oughta pop him and walk away, not say a fuckin word.”

“That's 'cause you don't know the man,” Catlett said, turning another page. “Next, you see him alone in his flower shop watering some plants, thinking what he should do. The man likes working here and now he's gonna lose it. Next, you see him in the van again, going by Roxy's place.”

Chili turned pages to catch up, came to a scene, Roxy—it looked like Roxy was having a party.

“Inside the office there,” Catlett said, “Roxy's celebrating his putting it to Lovejoy, having drinks with his friends . . . Now you see Lovejoy in the van parked across the street, waiting, but we don't know what for. Looking like he's doing some more thinking . . . Back to Roxy, he's getting drunk, say he wants everybody to come out to his place on the lake . . . Now Lovejoy is listening to symphony music on the radio, still in the van . . . Roxy, inside the office, is now getting ugly, has a fight with the woman wants to take him home.”