Page 452 - Some Dance to Remember
P. 452

422                                                Jack Fritscher

               “They’re both shooting speed?”
               “When they can get the money from me.”
               “Don’t give them the money.”
               “They’d only go out and rob some poor unsuspecting sucker.”
               “And maybe kill him.”
               “And maybe kill him.”
               “And maybe kill you.”
               “You don’t kill your banker.”
               “Unless you’re on speed.”
               Solly dropped his bombshell. “I’m moving to Los Angeles.”
               “You’re not.”
               “I am.”
               “Why?”
               “Because I believe one thing you always say: signs and omens are
            everywhere. Tiger is a warning. Maybe I’ve worn out my welcome in San
            Francisco. Like Kick wore out his. Besides, I am in the film industry. I’m
            practically a mogul. I belong in Hollywood.”
               Ryan was speechless.
               “We’ve all worn out our welcome in San Francisco,” Solly said. “It’s
            time you left too. Everybody’s giving up sex. That’s all the City was good
            for. It’s time everybody moved back where they came from. It’s time you
            moved up to Sonoma County and played Squire Western at Bar Nada.”
               “Don’t leave,” Ryan said. “Don’t you leave me too.”
               “Spare me the hysterics,” Solly said. “It’ll take me a month to get my
            shit together.”
               A week later Tiger and Susie Slit climbed the fire escape to Solly’s
            penthouse. He heard the glass break in the kitchen window and climbed
            over the young hustler sleeping next to him. He found them in his video
            studio.
               Susie Slit stood ready with a buck knife in each hand. Tiger was
            already unplugging the jacks and cords to all the video equipment: four
            recorders, two cameras, two 28-inch monitors. No one said anything.
            They all knew their parts. This was not the first robbery for any of them.
               Susie Slit motioned Solly through the bedroom toward the bathroom.
            She kicked the hustler sleeping in the bed. He woke with her knife in his
            face. She nodded for him to follow Solly into the bathroom. Tiger crowded
            in behind her. He was strong. He was loaded. He pushed Solly and the
            hustler to the floor and tied their hands and feet with electrical cord.
               Solly knew better than to struggle. The hustler didn’t. Susie Slit
            dropped to her knees and stuck the point of her blade against his jugular.

                      ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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