Money Shot

25.

When we got back to the motel, there was no way I could sleep. I felt like I might never sleep again. When I refused to take the only bed, Malloy shrugged and took it himself without comment. He kicked off his shoes, took off his jacket, and put his gun and holster on the bedside table. He was asleep almost instantly, still dressed and on top of the covers. He lay straight as a board, on his back with his hands loosely clasped on his chest like a funeral parlor corpse ready to be viewed by the grieving family. He didn’t snore. The only indication that he was still alive was the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

I just sat in that uncomfortable chair and didn’t think. I waited for the sun to come up.

In the morning, the shit with Didi was on the news. She was already dead in my mind so when the inflatable blonde newslady announced that former porn star Diane Kellick, also known as Didi DeLite, had been shot to death in her Winnetka home, I felt nothing. They showed some old stills of Didi looking foxy back in the day with her blonde Farrah hair and sly smile. She would have been happy to be remembered that way. Handsome Detective Erlichman came on saying that they were currently unsure of the connection between the deceased guitarist of a local band called Smackdown and missing murder suspect Angel Dare. I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

“What’s so funny?” Malloy asked, coming out of the bathroom and rubbing the silver stubble on his chin.

“Nothing,” I said. I shrugged. “Everything. I don’t know.”

“We’ve got that address from the drivers license,” he said, putting on his jacket. “You ready to pay Jesse Black a visit?”

“I’ve been ready all night,” I said. It sounded great. I hoped it was true.

“According to his model release,” Malloy said, sipping 7-Eleven coffee as we waited to get on the 101 freeway, “Jesse Black is really Christopher Aaron Mezger. Born February 10, 1986. Currently residing at 1889 Draco Way. That’s up in the West Hills near Bell Canyon Park. Nice.”

I nodded, forcing myself to drink my own coffee, even though it tasted like hot varnish.

“For now, we just scope out the place,” Malloy said. “Watch him and see where he goes. Who he’s got with him. We need to figure out his routine so we can figure out how to get him alone.”

“Right,” I said. My head hurt. I knew it was going to be difficult not to blow the bastard out of his boots the second I set eyes on him again.

Jesse’s house was beautiful and trashed. There were beer cans and discarded clothes and cigarette butts everywhere. Jesse’s Ferrari was parked half on the driveway and half on the front lawn. There were several other expensive cars parked with varying degrees of competence all around the front of the house.

Malloy parked on the other side of the narrow street. As we watched, a pair of girls, one blonde and one brunette, came out the door and wobbled down the walkway. They were built like greyhounds with implants and still dressed in expensive clubwear that was way too slutty for 9AM. You could see they had probably looked pretty good the night before, all made up and displayed under low-watt bar lighting. In the harsh light of day they looked rode hard and put away wet, raw red stubble burn around their mouths and raccoon smears of mascara all around their squinting eyes. Eventually the two of them found their way to a sporty little BMW two-seater and drove away.

Malloy and I waited. Several other young, attractive people came out of the house in various states of intoxication. It was nearly two hours before Jesse made an appearance.

He was wearing black-and-red track pants and a skintight tank top. His face looked pale, hung-over and puffy but he still looked beautiful.

Just seeing him made my heart twist savagely inside my chest. It felt almost like a toxic kind of crush. I wanted to kill him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

I might have done just what Malloy told me not to do, might have gotten out of the car and plugged the fucker right there in his driveway, but he had another guy with him. A black guy with a shaved head, an unattractive face and an astoundingly ripped and flawless body. The black guy was also wearing workout duds and it was no stretch to figure the two of them were going to the gym.

Malloy and I followed Jesse through his day and rapidly discovered that he was almost never alone. From the gym he and his buddy went to a pricey organic health food café called PURE where they met up with three gorgeous, interchangeable blondes. The buddy went off with two of the girls and Jesse took the third. They made a pretense of shopping along Ventura Boulevard and then she blew him a little in the Ferrari in the parking lot of the Bed Bath and Beyond. Jesse dropped her off back at the café and then headed over to a car repair place where he left the Ferrari and was picked up by another beautiful girl, a lush, full-figured Latina with a face like a young Sofia Loren. The caliber of tail that guy was getting was really unbelievable.

The new girl drove him out to the Vixen Video studio in Van Nuys. He dry-humped her for nearly half an hour before she let him out and drove away. He adjusted himself unselfconsciously and headed in to the studio. A few minutes later, I spotted hot Asian newcomer Heidi Ho lugging her gig bag across the parking lot. He wasn’t inside long, just long enough to shoot one quick scene. When he came out, yet another beautiful girl picked him up, this one a tan, athletic fitness model type. She, too, made out with him for several minutes before dropping him back at the garage. Once he had his car back, he picked up a male friend at a coffee shop a few blocks away. The kid looked barely eighteen and extremely anxious. The two of them bought non-fat soy lattes to go and then headed over to a glass office tower on Ventura Boulevard in Tarzana.

“Holy shit,” I said to Malloy as Jesse and his new friend headed into the lobby of the building. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“What?” Malloy asked, frowning.

“That’s the office of Spotlight Escort,” I said. “They hook up clients with well-known male porn stars. A lot of the guys do it, but I never would have guessed Jesse was gay for pay.”

“No shit,” Malloy said. “That’s perfect.”

“Perfect?” I asked. “How do you mean?”

“I mean that’s how we’ll get him.”