Lola: Chapter Thirteen
The next morning, Walters pulled out of a parking ramp next door to his loft with an untraceable car he had on long term storage there. It was a red Nissan. No one would have expected him to be driving it as he made his way to meet a special contact that would help him set Roxanne up for her fall. No one else knew about that car and this hideout except for Moreno and he was dead now.
Of course, if Moreno knew something that usually meant someone else knew that same something. That person had been biding their time year after year, collecting little facts no one else thought were of importance, they were watching and taking mental notes of all these things that only the head of the criminal organization knew, that only her boyfriend knew. Moreno wouldn’t have let anybody else know these important details, this information he used to ensure he was the one in charge, but after a few years he trusted his girlfriend, he thought she was safe, it wasn’t that he purposefully told her these things, eventually he just stopped hiding them from her, if she overhead a conversation or read a document it was no big deal, she was family, or as close to family as she could get, so if she learned details of something she wasn’t supposed to know, it was okay, she could be trusted, and eventually as year toppled onto year, she collected a lot of information until she knew everything there was to know, everything Moreno knew. And this included at least two of Walters’ favorite hiding spots, and, luckily for her, Walters had chosen one of those places to hide out with Lola. She had assigned Marco to wait outside that address watching for any signs of Walters-like movement. Walters thought he was safe so he wasn’t difficult to spot. Marco saw him as he walked into the long-term parking lot and then reemerged in that Nissan. He recorded the type and license plate of the car. He called his boss.
“You were right, he’s at the downtown address. He just took off.”
“Is Tomas following him?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You stay on her. I know where he’s going. I want to know what she will do.”
Marco understood his orders. He continued to wait for Lola to emerge. They had a specific plan for her once she did.
---
Walters reached his destination without noticing he was being followed. This was not because of lack of skill on his part or because of a particular skill on Tomas’ part. It was because Roxanne not only knew Walters’ favorite hiding spots in the city, she also knew the two or three people he relied upon for information in times like these. She made sure to pay those individuals handsomely just in case Walters turned to them for help. They weren’t difficult to pay off. In this line of work loyalty has some purchase, lots of money has much more purchase. In a morally compromised profession, lots of money usually gets you the things you want. In this case, Roxanne wanted to play some dangerous games. And with enough money on offer Charlie Fives was willing to help her.
Charlies Fives is old and craggly, 75 and looks 100. May have been all those cigarettes. May have been all that alcohol. Or maybe it was just bad genes. More likely it’s the karma of all the nefarious deeds he’s witnessed and helped to facilitate in his time. One may think an old man nearing the old age when he would leap off the face of the planet would be close to some kind of internal reckoning with all of the things he has done in his life. This was not Charlie Fives. He was a reverse Dorian Gray, those bad actions aged him and made him look older than he is, but he had no desire to make amends.
Walters knew this about Charlie Fives, he was under no illusion about the character of the man who was waiting for him in a back booth in the rundown pizza joint in San Pedro. He also knew, or thought, their interests aligned. That’s what Walters usually counted on for such meetings with the Charlie Fives of the world. Moreno was Charlie’s benefactor just as he had been Walters’ benefactor and to Walters this meant Charlie would want to get revenge on Moreno’s murderer. But he miscalculated Charlie’s sense of indebtedness. Charlie had made his decision before Walters showed up at that pizza joint. Before Walters called him for a meeting. Frankly it wasn’t a difficult decision. Helping a long-term work acquaintance in his quixotic attempt to undue perceived wrongs or siding with the winning team, the new boss. Those decisions are pretty easy for Charlie Fives.
Walters slides in the booth across from the man he has placed a limited trust in.
“Charlie. Long time.”
“Yeah, long time.” Somewhere there’s a smile underneath the creased lines in Charlie’s face.
Walters tries to stay lowkey, to make his pitch in a way that Charlie will understand. Charlie nods sometimes. He agrees sometimes. Walters’ pitch is a good one.
Charlie agrees that Walters is right and gives him the information he is looking for. A meeting at a warehouse in Harbor City where the briefcase will be passed between Roxanne’s man and a secret ally. If Walters can get the drop on them, he might be able to get his hands on that briefcase, on those documents, he might be able to prove Roxanne was behind its loss in the first place, he might be able to blow up Roxanne’s plans once and for all.
Walters was so focused on the possibilities of catching Roxanne in her lies, he missed the big one Charlie was telling him. That is a big mistake. The type of mistake one can’t make in this business.
---
There’s a grand in small bills in an envelope on the side table and a note in the envelope.
‘This is not for last night – this is walking around money. You will need cash if you are going to survive. I will be back later tonight.’
Lola shakes the envelope and keys to the loft fall out. She also notices the black object that’s underneath the envelope. There’s a note taped to its handle – ‘you will need this, too’
Walters’ hideout doesn’t have a television. Lola is bored. She spends a boring morning there waiting. She doesn’t even know what she is waiting for. For Walters to return that night. She doesn’t want to wait for that. Sitting like a sitting duck. She has a mission now. Sitting around a barely furnished loft isn’t going to help her finish that mission. Coffee might do that. Coffee usually helps. Lola ventures out of the loft to get some coffee. Luckily for her, she lives in a time and place where there is pretty much a coffee shop on every corner. Even in a not very good part of downtown Los Angeles. And it may not be exactly on the corner of her block, but it is only three blocks away. She walks there taking in the sights and sounds of the warehouse district. It’s in the middle of the day so it’s safe. She has no worries there. She also made sure to take the gun Walters left her, so she feels extra safe. And just like the loft was surprisingly modern and trendy once inside, she finds the coffee shop on the corner three blocks down surprisingly modern and trendy as well.
It's full of people, hipsters and business people and warehouse people and fashion district people. All kinds of people getting their midday caffeine fix. Lola remembers another coffee shop from a few days ago, from when she was still trying to remember who she was. It’s nice to have a little money now. Sure, it’s from the stash Walters left her, so it’s not exactly a long-term fix to her financial issues, but it is money and it will pay for her coffee, so in that way she is in a slightly better spot than she was before.
After she orders and receives her latte, Lola looks around for a place to sit. All the tables are taken. What a strange crowd, Lola thinks to herself, as she waits and continues to scan the place for an open chair.
That’s when she sees Marco seated at one of the tables.
It can’t be him, can it?
Marco, this goon she had never met nor seen before the other day now seems to be haunting her life. He’s everywhere she goes. How can he be in this place? That’s a pretty big fucking coincidence. But it is kind of a seedy part of town. She hides behind a pillar and scans the crowd again.
Is this a place where gangsters meet?
He didn’t see her. She’s sure of that. She’s also sure it’s him. There’s no mistaking the square jaw of the man she chased out of her house with a gun and her naked body. She won’t ever forget his face. Would he remember hers? She’s pretty sure he would. But he seems busy now, preoccupied. There’s a man across the table from him. They are leaning confidentially into each other. They’re sharing secrets. The other man has a shady look to him. He may not be the male model goon out of central casting, but he’s the slimmed down older not to be trusted informant type of shady. He wears a long brown overcoat even though its warm outside. His hair is dark, his face is dark, his eyes are dark, he looks like a shadow, even when he’s under the fluorescent lights of the coffee shop as he is now. They are still whispering to each other, that square jaw and that shadow. What could they be whispering about?
Lola keeps observing. She feels she’s onto something, something that’s going to help her plan for revenge. She stays hidden behind that pillar holding her latte for a number of minutes. Her heart beats a little faster, she breathes a little slower. She knows she has that gun in her pocket. She doesn’t plan on using it, not in the open like this, not in a crowded coffee shop, still, it’s nice to know she has it with her.
Finally, the shadow moves, then the square jaw looks back and forth and he moves, too. Quickly. To the door. Doesn’t notice Lola behind that pillar. She notices the scrap of paper they left on the table. Careless. In her experience, Marco has the habit of being careless. Roxanne may like him, may rely on him, but thoroughness doesn’t seem to be his greatest asset.
Lola rushes over to the table and the scrap of paper. She snatches it before anybody else can sit down, before one of the unenthusiastic coffee shop workers has to wipe off the table. She retreats back into the shop now that she has the paper.
There’s scribbling on it. It’s hard to make out. Jesus, do I need reading glasses. I’m not that old yet, Lola thinks to herself. She squints She still can’t read those damn scribbles. Whoever wrote this has really bad handwriting.
“I can’t read this.” Lola says to herself, absentmindedly out loud.
There’s an old man, obviously retired, a little shambolic next to her waiting for his coffee at the counter.
He heard her. His ears perked up and he looked in her direction but didn’t say anything. In the big city, this big city, people tend to keep to themselves, no need to talk to strangers just like your mother taught you when you were a child, but he heard her, he definitely heard her.
Lola’s a little desperate. She turns to the old man. He looks at her with interest. She hands him the note.
“Can you read this?”
The old man is amused, happy that she asked, happy for the brief interaction with another human being in this cold city. He takes the note from her. He takes a pair of reading glasses out of his pocket and peers at it.
“It says 8:00.”
He squints, trying to read the rest of the note, the nearly indefinable scribbles.
“2225 Industrial Blvd. Harbor City Warehouse.”
There’s another part that is completely indecipherable, just a scribbled line, a signature. Somehow it makes sense to the old man.
“Roxanne.”
He hands the paper back to Lola.
“A date?” The old man asks. Lola smiles at the thought.
“Yeah, a date.”
---
Walters and Charlie are still sitting across from each other, a half-eaten pepperoni pizza between them.
“Eight o’clock?” Walters says.
Charlie nods.
“Eight o’clock.”
Walters stands up from the booth and looks down on Charlie. “I’m glad we’re on the same page about this.”
“Anything for an old friend.” The creases in Charlie’s face move in a semi-circular formation approximating a smile.
Walters walks away from Charlie. Out of the restaurant. Charlie takes out his phone and makes a call once the little bell on the restaurant door dings signaling a customer has left.
“It’s done. I want the rest of the money wired to my account.”
“You’ll get it when he shows up.” The woman’s voice on the other end of the line says.
“Oh, he’s going to show up, believe me. I’m very believable.”
“I won’t forget this favor.” The woman is very assured and confident.
“Don’t worry. I never liked the fucker anyway.”
Walters gets into his car and decides to give Lola a call. He isn’t sure if he’s going to tell her the news about the warehouse, she’s still a little bit of a wild card in all of this, but he does want to hear her voice.
There’s no answer in the loft. She doesn’t have a cell phone, so there is no other way to get in contact with her. Walters figures she’s gone out. He drives by the loft and waits for her there.
---
Lola is on her way back to the loft, scribbled note still in her hand, clutched tightly. She stops dead in her tracks a block away from the front door to the building. Two men have just come out that door, one of them is Marco.
Jesus, this guy is following me everywhere. How did he get this address.
Lola can’t believe her luck. The bad kind. She hides behind the corner of the building like she hid behind the pillar in the coffee shop. This explains why Marco was holding meetings in the neighborhood. He was already on to Walters and his favorite hiding place.
Fuck! I need to warn him.
Lola has change this time. She has a grand (minus price of coffee) to make as many calls from payphones as she wants. She finds one down at the other end of the street. Thank god for grimy payphones in grimy part of downtown. She puts in her change and starts dialing Walters. She goes to press the first button. Only there’s no number to dial. She doesn’t know her hitman’s cell number. Why would she know his number. She only met him a few days ago and it’s not like they met under normal circumstances, like he gave her his number to call him later. She has no idea what his number is. Why didn’t he leave his damn cell number in that envelope with the money and the keys? There’s no way to call him.
“Fuck!” Lola slams the receiver onto its cradle. It doesn’t latch and flies off and swings wildly from side to side. Lola doesn’t care and looks down the street. She can wait for Walters and try to flag him down. But she doesn’t even know what kind of car he’s driving. Still, she can wait. There has to be a way to wait for him and catch him before they do.
“Hey!”
That’s a loud shout on the street. Even for a downtown street. Even for a not very good part of downtown street. Lola can’t help but to look. Everyone looks at the guy he shouted the loud ‘hey!’
Two guys are running in her directions. That shout was for her. She can’t see the guys’ faces, but she doesn’t have time to look at the guys’ faces. It’s Marco, it’s gotta be Marco. She knows this, he’s following her everywhere. He knows her face and now he’s chasing her down from a block away.
Instead of turning towards the ‘hey’ she turns in the other direction and sprints. As fast as she can. She sprints through a dirty alley, jumping over a fallen garbage can, and comes out the other side on a busier street. Cars are flying by on both sides of the street. Cars are parked all along the street. She sees a yellow one. It’s a cab. Thank God. She waves. She doesn’t look behind her. The cab stops. She dives in the back and tells the cabbie the only address she can remember, the only address that feels like some semblance of home now.
“Driftwood Motel. Redondo. As fast as you can.” The cabbie steps on it. Lola stays face down on the backseat, waiting for a few blocks until she rises and looks out the back window. It’s safe. She audibly sighs at the narrow escape. The cabbie gives her a strange look.
“You running away from a guy?” He asks.
“Yeah, something like that.”
She feels a sharp object in her side. It’s sticking into her. It hurts. She reaches down to remove the bur from her side. Her right hand reaches for, then she remembers, what it is. A piece of hard metal that shoots deadly objects. For some reason this makes her smile, like when she was back in Walters’ loft. It’s her security blanket. She looks at the piece of paper in her left hand, still clutched in her left hand. She has a date for tonight. And she has the (name of gun). She can keep that date. She just hopes Walters is as quick as she was when Marco shouts his name. She worries for her lover. But he’s the experienced one. He’ll be okay. She knows he’ll be okay. He’s not going to walk into their trap. He’s too smart for that. He has to be too smart for that.