Genuine Lies

child, dwarfed by the custom-made leather executive chair.
    Behind him was a window with its view of L.A. from high up in Century City. It always pleased him that at any whim, he could see in a glance the panorama the producers of
LA. Law
had made famous.
    He kept his back to it now, his eyes downcast. He hadn’t slept the night before until jittery panic had sent him hunting up a couple of Valium and the brandy bottle.
    “I’ve come to you personally,” Delrickio was saying, “because I feel we have a relationship.” When Drake merely nodded, Delrickio’s lips tightened, only briefly, in disgust. “You understand what would happen now if I did not have this personal connection with you?”
    Because he felt this demanded an answer, Drake wet his lips. “Yes.”
    “Business can be influenced by friendship only to a point.We are at that point. Last night you were unlucky. I can sympathize, friend to friend. But as a businessman, my priority must be my own profit and loss. You, Drake, are costing me money.”
    “It shouldn’t have happened.” Drake’s emotions threatened to surface again, swam in his eyes. “Up until the last five minutes …”
    “That is neither here nor there. Your judgment was poor, and your time is up.” Delrickio rarely raised his voice and didn’t do so now. His words boomed and echoed in Drake’s head, nonetheless. “What do you intend to do?”
    “I—I can get you another ten thousand in two, maybe three weeks.”
    His eyes masked by the downsweep of his lashes, Delrickio took out a roll of peppermint Life Savers, thumbed one free, and laid it on his tongue. “That’s far from satisfactory. I expect the rest of the payment in one week.” He paused, waggling his finger. “No, because we are friends, in ten days’ time.”
    “Ninety thousand in ten days?” Drake reached for the Waterford carafe on his desk, but his hands shook too badly for him to pour. “That’s impossible.”
    Delrickio’s face remained impassive. “When a man owes a debt, a man pays. Or takes the consequences. A man who doesn’t pay his debts may find himself becoming clumsy—so clumsy he slams his hand in a door and crushes his fingers. Or he may become so distracted by his obligations that he is careless when he shaves—so that he slices his face … or his throat. In the end he may become so disheartened that he will throw himself out of a window.” Delrickio glanced at the wide pane at Drake’s back. “Like that one.”
    Drake’s Adam’s apple pressed against the square knot in his tie when he swallowed the ball of fear in his throat. His voice came out like the whine of air from a leaky balloon. “I need more time.”
    Delrickio sighed like a disappointed father who had just been shown a poor report card. “You ask me for a favor, and yet you haven’t granted me the one I asked you.”
    “She wouldn’t tell me anything.” Drake reached for a handful of sugared almonds from the Raku bowl on his desk. “You know how unreasonable Eve can be.”
    “Indeed I do. But there must be a way.”
    “I tried pumping the writer.” Drake caught the faint glimmer of light at the end of a dark tunnel, and sprinted. “In fact, I’m working on bringing her around. She’s in the outer office right now.”
    “So.” Delrickio’s brow lifted, the only sign of interest.
    “I’ve got her pegged,” Drake hurried on, taking the journey in frantic leaps and bounds. “You know, the lonely career-type who needs a little romance. Two weeks, and she’ll be eating out of my hand. Everything Eve tells her, I’ll know.”
    Delrickio’s lips curved slightly as his finger brushed his mustache. “You have a reputation with the ladies. In my youth I enjoyed one myself.” When he rose, Drake could all but feel the wave of relief slick down his clammy skin. “Three weeks,
paisan.
If you bring me useful information, we will arrange a longer-term loan. And to show your good faith, ten thousand in one week. Cash.”
    “But—”
    “It’s a very good deal, Drake.” Delrickio moved to the door, turned. “Believe me, you would not get such consideration from others. Don’t disappoint me,” he added, brushing at his cuff. “It would be a shame if your hand was so unsteady while you shaved that you damaged your face.”
    When he stepped out, Julia saw a distinguished man of perhaps sixty. He had the sleek, glossy look of wealth and power heightened by dramatic good looks that had aged to