Finnegan's Week Read Free

for?”
    â€œThirties.”
    â€œKee-rist, Fin!”
    â€œI’m barely forty.”
    â€œYou look suspiciously older.”
    â€œSo do Filipino Little Leaguers but they get to play, god-damnit!”
    â€œOkay, okay, I’ll do what I can. Now go crush crime, for chrissake. Catch some crooks. Do what you do best.”
    â€œI act. That’s what I do best. I’m only a cop by training. I was …”
    â€œBorn to act.”
    â€œNo, I was born to sell my organs and live under bridges like a bum or wino—pardon me, now they’re called the homeless —but I happened to take a police exam twenty-three years ago and here I am and now I hate police work and I hate cops above the rank of me which is just about everybody and I hate three ex-police wives, mine. And I got to do the fucking job five more years till I’m fifty years old or I won’t get my pension and …”
    â€œYou’re forty-five then,” the agent said ruefully. “I thought so.”
    â€œâ€¦ and I wish I could be immature irresponsible rich pampered spoiled and stupid with no hope of growing up or having a single sensible opinion. In short, I’d love to be a movie star. I’d even register Democrat and stop puking in my popcorn during Oliver Stone movies if I thought you could get me in the cultural elite. But I’ll settle for a one-day bit as a contract killer in that chickenshit TV show before it gets canceled! Okay?”
    â€œOkay okay, kid. Calm down,” Orson said. “I’ll get to work on it right away. I know who’s casting that show. They’ll like the idea, a real live San Diego cop playing a contract killer. Now I want you to do something for me , okay?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI got a lawyer-pal. He’s got a client. He wants to know what the DEA has on his client and …”
    â€œForget it. I still have five years to do. I’m not risking my pension.”
    â€œHe’s a respectable lawyer for God’s sake.”
    â€œSure. Respectable lawyer means he was never caught taking meetings with the Medellín Cartel, or doing lunch with BCCI bankers, and he hasn’t been indicted by a federal grand jury. That’s a respectable lawyer. Forget it.”
    â€œOkay okay. Let’s you and me do lunch …”
    â€œIf you say someday , I’ll kill you.”
    â€œI was gonna say tomorrow . Let’s do lunch tomorrow.”
    â€œI’m too busy. Tomorrow’s the day I fill my ice-cube trays. Look, Orson, I’m not asking for a movie with a Swedish director and subtitles, but I’m as serious as a tumor on your willy.”
    The agent studied his client thoughtfully for a moment and said, “I’ve seen this before, Fin. It’s real tough for an actor to hit the benchmarks: forty, forty-five, fifty. You take it harder than normal sane people. Acting’s an addiction, an obsession. Most of my clients, they need Prozac more than they need an agent.”
    â€œWell maybe I should just chuck it all and go sell derby hats to women in Bolivia.”
    â€œJust remember, no matter how down and depressed you get …”
    â€œYeah? What?”
    â€œTomorrow is another day.”
    â€œThat one’ll have me slapping my forehead for hours,” the detective said, standing up to leave. “Why didn’t I think of that? Now let’s see if I can accomplish something real hard, like getting past your secretary without getting spit at.”
    Orson said, “If I can get them to let you read, please wear a decent outfit. That sport coat’s older than Hugh Hefner and even more tacky. Don’t pick your teeth with a matchbook, and try to remember, Fin, tomorrow’s another day.”
    Before the detective exited, he said: “Fuck you, Orson, and fuck Scarlett O’Hara.”

C HAPTER 2
    T he father of Jules Temple had always worried a great deal about