Hollywood Crows by Joseph Wambaugh Read Free Book Online Page B

No.’ He’s thirty years old, going on eighty. And speaking of posters, how did you know
Scarface
would be there?”
    “Rocker plus cocaine plus Hollywood equals
Scarface
,” Bix said. “The cocaine set loves that movie, especially that dopey scene where Al Pacino’s so buzzed he falls face-first into a snowdrift of coke. You can usually find
Scarface
somewhere in all their cribs.”
    Ronnie said, “The first time I drove up to the Hollywood Hills, I saw these homes and figured these were the kind of people who listen to music I never hear on K-Rock. Now I find out there’re people here who download tunes from Headbanger’s Heaven.”
    “Big bucks don’t change human nature,” Bix said.
    He didn’t waste much time on the paparazzi search. Bix drove to the area where homes had not yet been built on the steeper slopes, looked around perfunctorily, then drove back down to the rocker’s address and parked in front, where the man was waiting for them in the doorway.
    “Well?” the rocker said.
    “You were right,” Bix said. “There were four of them. They had telephoto cameras on tripods. And there were three more driving up while we were talking to the other four. You’re a very popular target, it seems.”
    “What’d you tell them?” the rocker asked anxiously.
    “I told them that I know they’re just doing their jobs but that there could be serious repercussions for stalking famous people.”
    “I understand they gotta make a living,” the rocker said.
    “I reassured them that you understand. That celebrities like you need them and they need you. A reciprocal arrangement, so to speak.”
    “Yeah, exactly,” the rocker said. “Just so they don’t start a fire. That’s all we’re worried about.”
    “They promised me that there’d be no smoking up there in the future unless it was done in their van with cigarettes extinguished in the ashtray.”
    “They had a van?” the rocker said with a little smile.
    “Yes, sir,” Bix said. “They come prepared for someone like you.” Then he added, “And your lady, of course.”
    The rocker’s smile widened and he said, “Yeah, because of the pap, she’s afraid to get in the Jacuzzi without wearing something.”
    “The price of fame,” Bix said, nodding sympathetically.
    “Well, thanks, Officers,” the rocker said. “Anything I can do for you, let me know. We played a gig one time for the Highway Patrol.”
    “We’ll keep that in mind, sir,” Bix said. “We’d be thrilled to hear you play.”
    When they were driving back down toward Sunset Boulevard, Bix said to Ronnie, “We get a lot of those. I never tell them the truth. They’re miserable enough in their failed lives without finding out that there’s no paparazzi. That nobody gives a shit anymore.”
     
     
    Hollywood Nate was supposed to be doing similar CRO work that day, but he took a drive up into the Hollywood Hills on his own, to a neighborhood farther east. On an impulse, he cruised up to Mt. Olympus, sipping a cup of Starbucks latte as he remembered the young woman with butterscotch hair. He hadn’t been able to forget her since the day he wrote down her license plate number at Farmers Market.
    Nate parked a block from her home on her very winding street. It was obvious that on her side of the street, there was a good city view. He told himself that he wasn’t going to sit there long, only long enough to finish the latte.
    Hollywood Nate couldn’t understand why he was there in the first place. That is, until he remembered the way she’d moved. Like an athlete, or a dancer, maybe. And the way her hair itself had danced when she’d turned abruptly. He couldn’t forget that either. In fact, he was ashamed of himself for doing this, but as long as nobody would ever know, what the hell. He just wanted to see her one more time, to see if she measured up to the image in his memory.
    Then Nate thought, What am I, a high-school kid? And he tossed the empty cup on the floor of