“Not to worry. Be cool.”
Fritz half rose from his seat, slightly off balance until he steadied himself. Joey reached out and shook his hand and Iris made a halfhearted gesture toward a kiss on the cheek. Fritz was smoking a cigarette. Nearby there was a half-filled ashtray and a nearly empty highball glass. He’d missed the ashtray with one butt and had put it out on the tabletop. He sat down again, perhaps a bit more abruptly than he intended. “Hey, guys. I didn’t expect to see you.”
Joey said, “Iris got restless, so here we are. What’s your drink of choice? I’m buying this round.”
“Seagram’s Seven and 7.”
Joey turned to Iris. “What about you, babe?”
“Beer’s fine with me. I’ll go. You can sit here and talk to Fritz.”
“You sure?”
“Not a problem. I’ll be right back.”
Joey handed her a twenty-dollar bill and she moved away from the table and crossed to the bar, pushing her way past singles who were lined up five deep.
Joey slid into the bench opposite Fritz. “How long have you been here?”
Fritz smashed his cigarette out, grinding it in the ashtray. “’Bout an hour. I can’t stand being home. My folks are always on my case. Yammer, yammer, yammer.” He raised his hand and made a puppet mouth with his thumb and fingers, saying, “Blah blah blah. Know what I mean?”
“Iris and I are lucky. We don’t have to put up with that shit.”
“I’m gone every chance I get. Hanging with Stringer and Berg out at their place, which is way cool. Me and the guys are like this.” Fritz held up his crossed fingers.
“What’s the latest on that business about the tape?”
Fritz made a face. “Not good. They won’t pay.”
Joey leaned forward. “You’re kidding me! They won’t pay? They actually said that?”
“Oh sure. They claim if they pay now, the guy will just come back for more. Some horseshit like that.”
“Are you serious? He said if he didn’t get his money, he’d turn the tape over to the DA.”
“What’s it to them, you know? They’re not going to jail. Me and Troy are the ones who’ll pay. I don’t know how many times I have to say this.”
Iris appeared with two bottles of beer and Fritz’s Seagram’s Seven and 7Up, which she passed across the table to him.
Fritz said, “Thanks, Iris.”
She scooted in beside Joey. “So what did I miss?”
“Parents still won’t pay,” Fritz said morosely. “Hired a detective.”
“A detective?” Iris said.
“Some woman,” Joey replied. “Remember? He was telling us about her up at Bayard’s.”
Iris made a face. “That’s dumb. What’s this detective supposed to do?”
“How the hell do I know? I guess run around and ask questions.”
“Wait a minute. I know the one,” Iris said. “This woman comes into the store telling me she’s a newspaper reporter, claiming the public is still interested in Sloan’s death. She’s asking all this shit, including wasn’t I the one who stole the test. Then she starts talking about the tape. I was floored.”
“When was this?”
“Monday, I think. She’s standing there telling me it’s sexual abuse. She referred to it as rape and she’s asking if I reported the incident to the police. I said it wasn’t an ‘incident,’ it was a joke.”
Fritz frowned. “I said the same thing. You know, like the tape was just us goofing off. Troy said he’d back us up.” Fritz struggled to fire up another cigarette and Joey tactfully took the lighter and gave him an assist.
“What about Bayard?” Joey asked.
Fritz tried unsuccessfully to blow a smoke ring. “Sure. I mean, it’s not his butt on the line, but he’ll support what we say. We all tell the same story. It’s a joke. Anyway, point is my parents are willing to pay big bucks to find out who’s shaking us down, but won’t pay a cent to get me off the hook. Troy’s just riding on my coattails. He doesn’t have money, so it’s not his lookout.”
“Good deal for him,” Joey said.
“Very good,” Fritz said.
Iris raised a hand. “I don’t get it. On one hand, you’re saying the tape is harmless because we weren’t really doing anything.”
Fritz gestured. “Right. I told ’em we were horsing around. In between takes, we’re cracking up and like that. You know, like improvising.”
“Okay, but then you turn around and tell them to pay so you won’t have to go to jail, so which is it? How can you go to jail if it’s a joke?”
“Good point, Iris,” Joey said.
Fritz waved him off. “Because they say, where’s the proof? I’m supposed to produce the outtakes and I’m telling them no way. Austin took ’em when he left, is what I said.”
“That’s good. I like that,” Iris said.
Joey rested his arms on the table. “Is that why they hired a detective? To track down the outtakes?”
“No clue. Anyway, don’t worry about her. My dad has no use for her. Waste of time, he says. Bet he fires her. He likes to fire people. I ever tell you that? Power tripping.”
“So can you talk them into paying?” Joey asked.
“I better. Either that or find a way to get my hands on some cash. Ha. My parents are hanging me out to dry. I find twenty-five thousand, you can kiss my ass good-bye.”
“Jesus, that must be driving you nuts,” Iris said.
“It is. I’m so jumpy, I can’t sleep. I lie there and just go over it and over it. You know, like I’m obsessing about where I’m getting twenty-five thousand bucks to save my own skin.”
Joey snorted at the very idea. “How are you going to come up with money like that? It’s not going to happen.”
“Maybe I’ll rob a bank. Otherwise I’m living with this blackmail guy breathing down my neck. Things don’t go his way, I got the cops at my door.”
Joey shook his head. “Shit, I don’t know what to tell you, man. The whole deal sucks.”
Iris said, “They have to pay, don’t you think? You know they have it.”
“No question,” Fritz said. “They, like, majorly have the money.”
Joey said, “I’d keep on ’em if I were you.”
“I’m doing my best. Have to or I’m screwed.”
Iris said, “Well, anything we can do to help . . .”
Impulsively, Fritz reached out and covered her hand with his. “Hey, guys. I just want you to know how much this means to me. Having you on my team.” His voice trembled. “You’re the only ones I can talk to about this . . . you know . . . crap going down in my life. It’s the pits. I’m serious. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Iris eased her hand out from under Fritz’s.
Joey reached over and patted Fritz’s hand and then held it between his own. “Take it easy, dude. We’re here for you. I mean that. Like, anytime.”
“Thanks.” Fritz turned his head, dashing at his eyes with his sleeve.
19
Friday, September 22, 1989