Nine Lives(55)

“Of course not. I get it. Go take care of your mom, Jay. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. I promise.”

After the phone call Jay wondered if he could get away with never talking with Madison again. Probably. He imagined she was pretty used to guys simply ghosting her. Still, she had once called him her “new best friend” …

He could kill her.

And even just having that thought put him in a much better mood.

She’d definitely hit a few bars tonight to celebrate, and if he timed it right he could be waiting for her outside of her complex … no, it wouldn’t work. He knew her, after all. There’d be phone records, if nothing else. And even though she was going to become completely unbearable the more acting jobs she got, she wasn’t worth the effort of bashing her head in. It would be like stomping on a baby bird. So easy and so meaningless.

He put his phone down on the arm of his couch. His fingers were white from gripping it so hard. He went to the kitchen and took a long swallow from the bottle of Ketel One he kept in the freezer, then did some tai chi in his bedroom to try to calm down. Afterward he allowed himself some fantasies, then made himself stop. He needed to actually do something, and not just think about it—it was the only way to make himself feel better.

That night he found a speakeasy bar in downtown LA, a place he knew there’d be no chance of running into either Madison or any of her friends. He got a corner booth, drank vodka and soda water with two limes, and watched the girls come and go, talking of Leonardo DiCaprio. The worst were the really young ones in minidresses and heels, laughing like hyenas at whatever some much older guy was saying. They were so pleased with themselves, thinking that they were somehow hot enough to actually make it in Hollywood, listening to wannabe dudes tell them about their screenplays. It took him a while, but he finally spotted the right girl. She had pale red hair and was wearing jeans and a slutty top. She’d come in with her friend, but now her friend was talking to some guy, and he knew the redhead was getting fed up. She kept checking her phone, taking tiny sips at her own vodka and soda, and wishing her stupid friend with her loud cackling laugh would shut the fuck up. Jay knew he could peel this one from the herd and get her alone at some point. But then the front door swung inward, and the redhead turned and spotted some guy who’d come to meet her, and suddenly she was all smiles, flipping her hair, sliding down the bar to let this douchebag with an ironic moustache sit down.

Jay finished his drink and left the bar. He wandered through downtown for a while, found a place with patio seating that would allow him to watch the street, and got one more drink. Two girls came in, bought Corona Lights, and sat at the next table from his. They were already drunk, talking loudly with midwestern accents, and glancing in his direction trying to decide if he was a movie star or not. Jay kept his eyes on his phone, even fake texting to make it look as though he was waiting for someone. He wondered what it would be like picking up these two ugly girls from Wisconsin or Minnesota or wherever, and telling them that he’d just booked a major television role. One or both of them would probably want to fuck him, something he had zero interest in. However, if he could get one of them alone …

“Excuse me, are you an actor?” It was the older of the two, with big thighs and dyed-blond hair.

“Nope,” he said. “What about you two, you actresses?”

They both laughed uncontrollably at this, and told him they were just visiting Los Angeles for the first time, and that morning they’d seen Josh Lucas crossing the street and getting into an SUV.

“I don’t know who that is.”

“He was in Sweet Home Alabama,” they both said at almost the same time.

“I don’t watch movies,” he said. “Probably because I work on them, and know that they’re total bullshit.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a fight coordinator on film sets. I could tell you stories about all your favorite movie stars, but you wouldn’t like them much.”

They practically squealed, then invited him to join them. He told them he was in the middle of an important text conversation, and maybe he’d join them in a bit. Sipping his drink, he continued to stare at his phone, considering what to do next. A wave of disgust was beginning to sweep through him. Disgust at the two stupid girls at the next table, disgust at some casting director actually having given Madison a professional acting job, disgust at the idiot city he lived in, crawling with human insects. Jay finished his drink, got up, and went through the bar area and out the other side. He had decided to give up, and go home, spend some time on the internet. He’d been hoping for more but tonight was not the night.

An Uber pulled up across the street and let out a blonde in a tiny skirt and some kind of halter top. She swayed for a moment on the sidewalk, looking at her phone, then studied the street. He thought she might walk toward the bar, but turned instead in the opposite direction, staggering along the sidewalk.

Could this actually be it?

She turned onto a cross street and he followed her, keeping his head down in case there were any traffic cameras around. They were in a residential area, old Spanish-style apartment buildings that had once been chic, now filled with new Hollywood arrivals and drug addicts. She was about twenty yards in front of him, but she kept stopping to stare at her phone, the light illuminating a messy head of blond hair, and an overly made-up face. His heart raced. In his leather jacket pocket was the heft of a hunting knife he’d bought over a year ago at a vintage market. He put his hand around it and an almost sexual thrill surged through his body, a rolling sensation, like great drugs. Now he was only about ten yards behind her, between streetlamps, and in the shadow of a row of desiccated palm trees. He quickened his pace.