“Where do you meet Garrett Unger? Snake oil conventions?”
Forest Lawn Hollywood Hills is an oasis surrounded by bustling traffic. Though Disney, Universal, and Warner Brothers all have studios located just minutes away, the vast acreage has a self-contained quality that keeps it isolated and tranquil. Uncluttered by mausoleums, it features mountain views, gently rolling hills, fussy landscaping, and bright white statuary.
DeMeo suddenly stopped short and placed his hand on my arm, and I nearly came out of my skin. I spun out of his grasp and jumped into a fighting stance. I swept the area with my eyes to make sure the goons were where they should be. They were, but they had their guns drawn, waiting for any type of twitch or signal from DeMeo. I had no idea where Quinn was, but I believed he was wherever he needed to be to keep me safe. DeMeo seemed not to notice my jumpiness, focused as he was on something in front of us.
“Look at that,” he whispered.
I tried to force myself to relax. I turned my head and followed his gaze and saw nothing, but his eyes were fixed on something. “What, the bird?” It was the only living creature I could detect in front of him.
“Not just any bird,” he whispered. “A Western Tanager.”
When I’m keyed up like that, I’m ready to kill or be killed. I want to kill or be killed. It was hard to focus on the bird. I looked behind us again. The goons’ expressions had never changed, but at least their guns were holstered. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for them, having to guard their nut case of a boss. I got my breathing under control and said, “Western Tanagers: are they rare or something?”
“Not rare,” he said, “but very shy. You almost never see them in such an urban setting. See the bright red face and black wings? That’s the male of the species.”
I couldn’t care less and hoped my expression showed it. DeMeo watched the bird fly off. Then he studied me a moment. “You’ve come a long way for this meeting,” he said. “I should let you conclude your business so you can enjoy our warm climate and friendly atmosphere.” He winked at me.
“Actually, I wanted to talk about your business,” I said.
“To which business are you referring? I have lots of businesses.”
I reminded him that a couple of years ago, he wanted to hire me to kill people who had signed contracts for structured settlements. I asked if he personally okayed each hit.
“This is a very disrespectful question,” he said, “considering I haven’t even patted you down.”
