I stared at her blankly. “And?”
“And we want you to make that clear to him, clear that he has to stop harassing her, calling her, or hunting her out in public.” Alex spoke with an irritability that definitely hadn’t changed from her old harangues.
“I don’t do bodyguard work. I’m a one–woman shop. I have people I call on for support, but if you want guaranteed protection you need to go to an outfit like Carnifice.”
“It’s not a bodyguard kind of situation.” Alex looked around for a table and put her drink on the couch next to her. “She says she’s not afraid of him, but that he’s embarrassing her.”
I made a face. “Murray, if this was your idea of a favor, take it somewhere else. If she’s not afraid of him, she can talk to him. If he’s bugging her, the studio has the muscle to make him back off.”
“You didn’t used to be stupid in law school,” Alex snapped. “If it was that simple we’d be doing it. They were childhood friends, stood up for each other when the rest of the street harassed them for being geeks. She can’t bear for his feelings to be hurt, because he rescued her at least once from some serious bangers in the stairwell. Beyond that, the guy is a kind of model enterprise–zone leader. If it looks like a big corporation is persecuting him, we’ll have a lot of hostility in the Spanish press, and of course that would be damaging for Lacey’s image.”
Murray was fidgeting with his glass. Something about the picture was making him ill at ease, whether Alex’s condescension or my snappishness or the assignment as a whole I had no way of knowing.
“He owns a business?” I asked. “What kind?”
“Gimmicky clothes,” Murray said. “Uniforms for kids’ teams, specialty T–shirts, that sort of thing. He started out doing the soccer uniforms at St. Remigio’s and moved on. He employs a lot of people right there in the neighborhood. On their old street he’s the second–biggest hero, right behind Lacey.”
“So what do you want me to do? Burn down his factory so that he has so much to worry about he leaves Lacey alone?” To my annoyance, Alex–Sandy seemed to be considering this smart–ass suggestion. “Lacey’s going back to Hollywood, he’s staying here, it’s not a problem.”
“It’s image, Vic,” Alex snapped. “Lacey’s going to be in town for eight weeks—they’re shooting Virgin Six here this summer. We can’t have him harassing her, and we can’t put him down hard. Why don’t you look into his affairs, see if he’s cut some corners someplace, see if we can’t offer him a little quid pro quo: leave Lacey alone and we won’t report you. If you turned up something, Global would be very grateful, and they have the resources to express their gratitude.”
I leaned back in my chair and studied them. Murray had stopped playing with his glass in favor of mutilating his napkin. Gray balls of wet paper were falling on his jeans. Alex was staring at me with an arrogant impatience that I found exasperating.
“I’m not manufacturing evidence of a crime or misdemeanor, even if it means so much to Global they give me the residuals for Virgin Six.“
“Of course not, Vic.” Alex bristled. “I’m not asking for that—but for you to fish. What’s your usual fee?”
“A hundred an hour plus nonoverhead expenses.”
She laughed. “I’d forgotten how honest you always were. Most people double or triple a number when a studio lawyer comes to visit.”
Meaning a hundred was so low it had to be the truth.
“We’ll double your fee if you’ll make this a priority. And throw in a high five–figure bonus if you come up with something we can use. Here are Frenada’s addresses and phone numbers.”
“Not so fast, Sandy.” Like Aisha’s father this morning, I let the proferred paper fall between us. “I need to think it over, and I’d have to talk to Ms. Dowell to see if she has the same take on the story you do.”
Alex–Sandy pursed her lips. “We’d rather Lacey wasn’t involved.”
My jaw dropped. “If she’s not involved, then what on God’s green earth is all this fuss about?”
Murray coughed, a deferential sign so out of his normal character that my irritability increased. “Vic, let me put it bluntly. You can talk to Lacey, of course, and get her read on Frenada. What we’re trying to avoid, or what Global is trying to avoid, is any hint that they’re beating up on Lacey’s old friends.
“No one wants you to manufacture anything. And no one who knows you would imagine that you ever would. As I made clear to Alex when we were talking about this last night. But if you do find something that the studio can use as a bargaining chip with Frenada, then we’d—they’d—prefer Lacey didn’t know it was because of Global that things got resolved. And we don’t want it in the papers.”