Warren didn’t even answer this one. He was starting to get a little tired of Smiley. Without a word, Warren walked up the drive until he came to Jessica’s Ferrari. He stood by the driver’s side door and leaned in. Underneath the sun visor he found the small square button he’d seen Jessica push the last time. When he pressed it, the wrought iron gate slowly swung open.
“Why didn’t you say so!” said Smiley as he and the others walked on through.
It was only at this point that Warren noticed another car in the driveway; a bright red Maserati. Warren recognized that car. He knew exactly where he’d seen it. “Uh oh,” he said out loud.
“Uh oh, what?” said Slim nervously.
“Uh oh, nothin’!” said Smiley. He walked up to the massive front door and knocked three times.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all,” said Warren, suddenly growing anxious.
“Too late, we’re here,” said Duke.
“Where the hell is this woman?!” said Smiley.
“Maybe she’s around back,” said Duke.
“In the Jacuzzi,” said Warren mostly to himself. He was struck with fear at the thought of finding Jessica and Craddock together in the hot tub.
“Jacuzzi? Did you say Jacuzzi?” said Smiley. “What else she got back there? I bet she’s got a swimming pool, too, ain’t that right?”
Before Warren could answer, Smiley was off, ambling down a cement path that led around the house.
“We might as well check the place out. We came all this way,” said Duke, following after.
Slim stayed where he was. “You’re sure you know this woman? For real?”
“Yeah, Slim. For real,” Warren answered with a sigh. At this point he knew that any outcome was going to be a bad one, but there wasn’t much he could do to stop it. And besides, his subversive side actually reveled in the impending conflagration. It was enough to draw a smile out of him. He’d light a match to everything he’d created these past few weeks; cleanse himself by burning it all to the ground. Only through complete self-destruction could he start over and rise anew, like a phoenix from the ashes. He didn’t need these people, or this job, or the money. Who said
no man is an island
? All Warren needed was himself, and here tonight on the verge of doom he was willing to prove it. In the backyard he found Duke, dipping his fingers in the hot tub. Smiley slid open the patio door and took a step inside.
“Man, check out this pad!” Smiley marveled. “These digs is deluxe!”
“What you know about deluxe?” countered Slim.
“I knows it when I sees it!” said Smiley.
The rest of the men followed him inside and wandered through the living room. Aside from Warren, none of them had seen a house like this in all their lives. It shocked them that such places truly existed.
“Check this out!” said Duke as he moved into the kitchen. The others were close behind. Duke opened the refrigerator door and gazed at the cornucopia of food and beverages.
“Hey, man, come on,” said Warren, his mind beginning to swirl with second thoughts. This was wrong, all wrong.
“What does she care if I eat her leftovers?” said Duke.
“Oooo, Chinese,” said Smiley, looking over Duke’s shoulder. He picked up a little paper carton and flipped open the top. He stuck his nose inside and inhaled. “Mmm, mmm!” Smiley walked around the kitchen opening drawers until he found utensils. He pulled out a fork and started eating from the carton.
“Any beer in there?” asked Slim.
Duke reached inside and pulled out a bottle of champagne. “This will do!” he said.
“Hey, you can’t drink that!” Warren complained.
“This bitch crazy ’bout you or what?” said Smiley.
“What does that have to do with it?” Warren said.
“Ah, she’s good for it,” said Smiley, reaching in for a bottle of his own.
“Give me some of that!” said Slim, grabbing the last of three bottles. He peeled back the foil, twisted off the metal clasp on top and popped the cork, sending it shooting across the kitchen as champagne overflowed onto the floor. Slim quickly brought the bottle to his lips for a drink. “That’s good stuff!” he said.
“What you know ‘bout good stuff? You ain’t never had no good stuff!” said Smiley.
Warren sighed deeply, resigning himself to whatever may come. There was no stopping it, in any case.
“Man, these digs is nice. You think she’d let us move in here?” said Smiley, with a Chinese food carton in one hand and a champagne bottle in the other.
“I can’t imagine why not,” said Warren, as Smiley wandered back into the living room.
Upstairs, Jessica sat on top of Craddock, straddling him as he lay naked on the bed looking upwards at her perfectly sculpted breasts. “Who’s the boss now?!” she said.
“You are baby!” answered Craddock.
“Say it!” Jessica shouted.
“You’re the boss!” Craddock hollered back, but then he wrestled her over so that he was back on top. Jessica closed her eyes and a supreme smile crossed her lips.
“Oh, yeah, baby. I’m the boss,” she murmured softly. Slowly she opened her eyes. When she regained her focus, her expression transformed to one of bliss to sheer horror. Above her was the upside-down face of a dirty, gray-haired, black man staring at her through one good eye. Jessica let out a blood-curdling scream, shoved Craddock off of her, and ran past Smiley out of the room. In the hallway she bumped into Duke, whose own eyes opened wide in surprise. Jessica screamed again and smacked a button on the wall. Immediately an alarm blared.
“Don’t you think about it mister!” Craddock shouted at Smiley, jumping up onto the bed and assuming a karate pose. “I’m a black belt!”
“You be lookin’ like a no-belt to me,” said Smiley.
“I mean it!” said Craddock, who lunged forward, tripped on the sheets and fell at Smiley’s feet.
Jessica flew down the stairs in a panic and ran into the kitchen where she found Slim, standing with a half-eaten chicken leg in his hand. Jessica let out another scream and lunged toward her kitchen utensils, pulling a shiny butcher knife out of its rack. She spread her legs into a fighter’s stance and waved the knife back and forth in the air before her.
“I’ll kill you, I swear I will!” she shouted.
“Whoa, miss, it’s just a chicken leg!” said Slim. “Nothin’ to get so upset over!”
Jessica ran past him and back into the living room. Duke and Smiley were rushing down the stairs, chased by a madly screaming Craddock. Warren stood by the bar, drink in hand, watching the entire spectacle. He saw Jessica wave her knife first at one intruder and then another. He saw Craddock with his fists in the air. “You stay away from her!” the producer yelled.
“It’s just a chicken leg!” Slim protested once again.
When Jessica saw Warren August, her face transformed again, from a look of fear to one of utter confusion. “What?...” she said, but before she could continue, four private security officers burst into the room, two from the front door and two from the back, waving guns in the air and shouting.
“Down on the floor! Hands on your heads!” they yelled.
It was with a strange sense of relief that Warren complied with their orders. It was time to face the music at last. He was ready.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Craddock shouted when he spotted Warren as well.
“Get on the ground!” countered a guard, taking no chances.
“But it’s our house!” Craddock whined.
“My house!” Jessica replied.
Warren’s accomplices followed his lead and dropped to the floor themselves. Within moments, all four were handcuffed and hustled out the front door.
Jessica and Craddock stood in the driveway wearing robes tied at the waist and talking to a small crowd of security and police officers. Any disturbance at Jessica Turnbull’s residence drew a response worthy of a head of state. Many of the officers seemed more interested in Jessica’s svelte figure than the four men locked in the back of two patrol cars.
“So you mean that you know these men?” one of the officers asked.
“Yes. No. I mean, I know one of them,” said Jessica as she eyed Warren, sitting forlornly in the back seat and staring at his knees.
“Breaking and entering with some gang of miscreants?! Disgraceful!” Craddock shouted.
“Forget about it,” said Jessica.
“The hell I will!!!” screamed Craddock. “I want that man locked up! All of them! For life!”
“It’s your residence Ms. Turnbull. Should I assume you’ll be pressing charges?” said the officer.
“No,” Jessica replied. “No charges.”
“The hell you won’t! Those men attacked me!” Craddock shouted.
“Roger, no charges!” said Jessica sternly.
“But baby!” Craddock whined.
Jessica lifted a finger and placed it on his lips. She turned to the police officer. “Just get them out of here.”
The officer nodded. “You’re just lucky the cabbie called it in. We never would have been here so quickly if he hadn’t suspected something.”
“I appreciate all of your help. Thank you,” said Jessica. She walked to the nearest patrol car and leaned through the front door until she was facing Warren through a wire mesh screen. “I don’t care what sort of games you thought you were up to here tonight. If you don’t show up tomorrow, I
will
have you arrested, and locked up for a long, long time. Do you understand me?”
Warren merely chuckled to himself. Jessica recoiled, taking a quick step back.
“As far as I’m concerned, he’s finished,” said Craddock.
“We still need him for the last scene,” answered Jessica. “Without that scene the whole film is worthless.”
Craddock grumbled. “Fine, but as soon as we wrap, he’s out. For good.”
In front of the homeless shelter, the two patrol cars pulled up to the curb and stopped. An officer got out of each and opened the back doors for Smiley, Slim, Duke and Warren, who climbed out onto the sidewalk. The officers took off the men’s handcuffs before they got back into their cars and drove off.
“See, I told you she digs me,” said Warren with a quiet smile.
“Yeah, I could tell. She digs you real good,” said Smiley.
“’Least we ain’t in jail,” said Duke.
“All I ate was a chicken leg,” said Slim.
The four men turned and walked up the stairs of the shelter. “You think they got any beds left tonight?” said Slim.
“I don’t know,” said Warren. “Can’t hurt to ask.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
A makeup artist dabbed Warren’s face with powder as he sat in chair wearing a natty grey suit. In a mirror he saw Jessica scurry past in a white cotton dress. She’d done a good job of avoiding him, going so far as to skip the morning rehearsals, but they’d have to face each other soon enough. They had one more scene to shoot and then it would be over. Warren knew he should regret his escapades the night before, but he couldn’t manage that emotion. Instead he felt tired. Tired of this place, tired of his life; mostly just tired of being tired.
“We’re ready for you, Warren,” said Kevin.
With a dark sense of inevitability Warren followed Kevin to his spot on the set. The scene took place in the interior of a Victorian-style home. Richard Slade, who played McGhee, stood in the center of the living room wearing a white suit and hat with a few of his oversized henchmen by his side. Outside the front door, on the other side of a street, was a row of police barricades. Behind them, actors dressed as police officers mulled around waiting. Charles was among them, still hoping for a good spot on camera. Warren hoped he’d finally have some luck after all. Charles deserved the break.
“You’ll start out on this mark,” Kevin said as he pointed to some tape on the floor. Warren stopped on the spot and waited.
“Jessica, you’re up!” Kevin shouted. A few moments later she appeared and moved to Warren’s side without a word, not even deigning to look at him.
“Look, I’m sorry…” Warren started to say.
“Save it,” she cut him off brusquely.
Behind the cameras stood Kaplan with the rest of the crew. “Martini time ladies and gentlemen! One more shot and it’s off to the edit rooms!” The director was giddy that his role in this production was coming to a successful end.
Craddock walked onto the set with a gaggle of security guards in tow. “How’s it coming?” he asked.
“One more shot to go,” said Kaplan. He eyed the guards but decided it was simply best not to ask. This shoot had been tortuous enough. In five minutes he would be done. Then he could go home and leave the producer to his own devices. “Is everybody ready?” he asked.
“Yes, dear,” said Jessica.
“Ok, then. Lights please!” said Kaplan. Immediately the set lit up. “We’ll run this through from the top. I’m going to film this take, so give me all you’ve got.”
“Places, please!” said Kevin.
“Jessica, look,” Warren tried again quietly.
“Never come to my house again. Understand?” She fought to control her anger. “Next time I
will
press charges.”
“Camera’s roll…!” yelled Kaplan as an assistant held up a slate. “And action!”
McGhee and his men, armed to the gills, peered carefully out the windows of the house toward a cordon of police. Warren and Jessica stood side by side near the front door.
“Come on out, McGhee! We’ve got you surrounded!” the police captain shouted from outside.
“I smell a rat. Somebody set us up!” said one of McGhee’s men.
“Not just anybody. It was a dame!” said McGhee. He took a step toward Jessica and slapped her hard across the face.
“Hold on just a minute!” Warren stepped between them, placing a hand on McGhee’s chest.
“Save it tough guy, I’m on to you! The both of you!” said McGhee.
“You can’t possibly thing we had something to do with this?!”Jessica pleaded.
“Move it! Up against the door!” he said, pointing his gun at her.
“McGhee, you’re making a mistake!” said Warren.
“I made the mistake the first time I laid eyes on you. I’m done makin’ ‘em now!” He grabbed Warren by the lapels and shoved him backwards. The rest of the men turned their guns on the startled couple. “Don’t think you can put one over on me!” McGhee snarled at Jessica. “I know your boyfriend’s a copper!”