[Steven Lyle Jordan]

4: That’s it?

“That’s all you got? That’s it?” Gail snapped.

“Is there an echo in here?” I snapped back. Just as quickly, I checked that. It was just the chapter title. “Uh, I mean, I’m an IT guy. I’m not a magician, able to make minors older with a wave of my hand. I can’t fake birth certificates. I don’t know any D&D incantations that will dissolve your stolen tapes from a distance. And I can’t print money!” I looked at Gail and shrugged. “Babe, I don’t know what the court is likely to do to you if they see those films.” I looked at Martin. “But you, dude, are screwed.”

Martin looked at Gail. “Dude, that’s harsh.”

“Mike,” Gail asserted, “there must be something Martin can do!”

“Besides buy new luggage, you mean? Look, I can only think of a single other thing you can do: Give her something of equal or higher value than what she wants out of you.”

“Like what?” Martin asked.

“As I see it,” I said, “you only have one thing of value, don’t you?” Martin stared back… I don’t know if he was in denial, or just being obtuse, so I just said it. “Your business.”

“What?” he said. So now I knew: Obtuse.

“Yup. Let her have it… give her all your tapes. Give her the rights to all future sales. Make her realize that she can make so much more on that stuff than blackmailing you.”

“Well… that’s crazy!” Martin said, throwing up his hands. “What am I supposed to do for a living, dude?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said coyly. “Maybe… something legitimate? Like yoga films with adults… with clothes on?”

Gail screwed up her face. “Who’d buy that?”

“Yeah,” Martin insisted, “there’s a reason we did it the way we did it!”

“But it was illegal,” I shot back, feeling like I was talking to children now. “Hell, you’re better off giving that s**t away than continuing to sell it!”

“And what about Es?” Martin asked. “What if she continues to sell it?”

“What of it?” I said. “If they’re all hers, then it’s her head in a noose if someone turns her in. And incidentally,” I added, “you will be in the perfect situation to do that, if she double-crosses you after the deal. Make sure she knows that. What do you think she’s more likely to want to do?”

Gail was starting to get it. “To just sell the stuff and make easy money.”

“Right,” I said. “And in the meantime, Martin can start producing… oh, I don’t know. Have you ever considered grownup porn?”

Martin shrugged. “Well… yeah, sure, I’ve considered it. But you need a hook these days, to rise above all the junk that’s out there.”

“Don’t I know it,” I said. And as quickly added, “Uh, from what I’ve heard of the market. Anyway, it’s your job to find your hook: Exotic locales. Cheap locales. Weird sets. Girls with accents. Costumes. Something…”

“Whoa, hold on,” Martin interrupted me. “I almost forgot one thing.”

He looked at Gail, and I saw her eyes widen. The color drained out of her face. Her mouth hung open, and I thought for a moment she was gonna pee herself. Instead, she said one word: “Veronica.”

“Veronica,” Martin echoed.

“Veronica?” I said.

“Veronica,” Gail replied, drawing out the last syllable in an annoying fashion.

“All right!” I snapped. “Before I have to start combing through my Elvis Costello catalog, somebody explain the big deal with Veronica!”

“She—” Martin started, then his voice caught in his throat. He swallowed, and started again. “She… she’s…” Another long pause, and another gulp, before he finally got the next word out, making it sound like acid on his tongue: “Ukrainian.”

Oh, yes, you know I paused for effect. Then I said: “Ukrainian.” I looked at Gail. “Ukrainian?”

“Ukrainian,” Gail replied, drawing out that last syllable again.

“Stop that! Look, what’s the big deal about Veronica’s being Ukrainian?”

“Don’t you know anything?” Martin said at once. “Everybody knows, when it comes to business, there are three things you just don’t mess with: Mother Mary; Mother Nature; and mother-f***ing Ukrainians!”

“Cute,” I said. “But what’s that got to do with—”

“Veronica was one of my performers,” Martin explained. Not.

“I gathered,” I said. “And I repeat, what’s—”

“She was underage,” Gail said.

“Duh! ” I shot back. “Don’t make me say it again!”

“She found out what we were doing could get her arrested,” Martin said.

“And?”

“And she wanted to make sure I wouldn’t get her arrested.”

“And?”

“And so… she made me sign a waiver, forbidding me to sell the assets without her permission.”

“And if you do?”

“If I do…” Martin gulped again, and Gail looked like she was going to be sick. “If I do, I’ll… I’d have to… I’ll have to…”

“Just say it, for God’s sake.”

“…I’ll have to have sex with her.”

Yes, that’s what he said. I looked at Gail, to confirm I had heard what he’d said, and the look on her face confirmed it nicely. I looked back at both of them, unimpressed.

“There’d better be a lot more to it than that,” I said.

“There is,” Gail said sickly. “She’s a black widow.”

“A black widow?”

“A black widowwww…”