Even though Chris' business was going great guns, he was still on the prowl for new assignments or contracts. Going out to hot clubs in LA was one method he used. I hated it, believe it or not. I was never a club maven so doing a nightly crawl of some hot spot was never my idea of fun. They were always too loud, too crowded, and loaded with drunks who always spilled their drinks on me. It was never girls who did this, only guys. But Chris was my friend and without him I'd still be back east playing the "what if" game. For Chris, these adventures were more than just business. As I found out later, they worked as a great tax deduction for him. And if there was anything I knew about him, it was that he always had an angle he could work to make himself come out the winner. And those who came along for the ride (i.e. me) were guaranteed a good time, either financially or romantically. This went back to our days in high school when he figured out a way to put a spy cam in the opposing cheerleaders' locker room. And sell the photos he took. He made a nice profit on that, even split the cash with me. Although the football team and the school administration put a price on the head of whoever set this up. That's a secret we left town with.
This time, it was a new club called the Red Light District. Chris knew the owner of the place, and naturally our names on the guest list were a guarantee. I had driven by the club a few times at night and it looked like the kind of place I dreaded. Strobe lights seemed to be on all the time, until I found out it was really flashbulbs. From photographers clamoring for a shot of whatever celeb visited.
"Oh come on pal!" Chris said "you've hardly ever gone out anywhere with me since you first arrived. This is a direct order from a superior officer! You WILL go with me to the Red Light District tonight!"
"Who are you trying to be now? Captain Kirk?" I replied
"No, just a friend," He said "As well as your employer."
I hesitated, but I knew he had a point. Usually my nights were spent with ESPN and "Seinfeld" reruns. The night with Paris was a different story.
"Come on, 2 drinks, a little star gazing, and you'll have fulfilled your requirements with me. And you can always deduct it on your taxes."
He was persuasive, as always.
"OK, deal." I agreed.
The club was everything I'd expected, and dreaded. When we went in, there was a gaggle of photogs snapping at random. Chris spotted the owner, Derek Adams. And he immediately started chatting up the guy. I could barely hear a thing they said between the thumping music (I think there was a Rhianna song in there somewhere) and the crowd in the bar cheering on a Lakers game. As if that wasn't enough, suddenly the strobe lights went into overdrive and there was a massive amount of yelling. Derek took off for the door.
"What's going on?" I asked Chris
"I'm not sure, but it must be somebody big if he's taking care of it." Chris replied.
Derek returned, straightened his Armani jacket, and resumed his conversation with Chris.
"What happened?" I asked Derek.
"Oh, Lindsay and Samantha just came in. They got into a tussle with the guys outside. And I think they're fighting with each other again. It always happens." He casually replied.
"Lindsay?" I asked.
"Uh, Lohan." Derek looked at me as if I'd just arrived from Mars.
"Get with it, man!" an annoyed Chris said, elbowing me in the arm.
"Oh, right, yeah I know!" I said.
"I've got them up in the V.I.P. room, maybe they'll cool off there." Derek said.
Chris and Derek went back to talking shop and I went looking for a drink. The line at the bar was 3 deep, and I was getting shoved around in the process of trying to order a beer. When I finally got one, it was in my hands for about 10 seconds before some fat guy fell into me, knocked the bottle from my hand, shattering it on the floor and on my pants. The guy regained his balance and slurred out;
"Sorry, man. Lemme getcha another one." I think it was the fat guy from the "Knocked Up" movies. But I was too annoyed to find out for sure as he walked away, laughing.
That did it for me!
I went over to Chris, who was now joined by 2 buxom beauties. I held up my phone and yelled that I had to take a call outside, where the reception was better.
I was lying. I just wanted to go home.
As I got closer to the door, I could hear screaming and glass breaking from an adjoining area. The music was too loud for me to tell for sure what was being said. But it seemed pretty heated. Then a thin girl with dirty blonde hair stormed out of the room, heading for the front door, nearly bowling me over.
"Yeah, you do that bitch!" the blonde turned and screamed.
I could see into the V.I.P room. It looked like a bomb had gone off in there. A security guy quickly blocked my view, but I could see a red haired beauty nearly in tears as she screamed out various things to whoever was in earshot. I guess that was Ms. Lohan.
I wished I hadn't seen her that way. I always thought she was quite pretty.
I calmly walked out of the club toward my Accord. As I put the key in the ignition, I was nearly blinded by a thousand little lights. The paparazzi had followed Lindsay out of the club as she tried to run for her Mercedes. And now I was blocked in. I had no choice but to wait until she drove off. When she squealed out of the lot, I drove off, more calmly.
I remembered what Chris once said about the paparazzi, and boy, was he was ever right.
But I also knew that right now, I was starving. The food at Red Light seemed to be non-existent. So Burger King was calling my name! But at this late hour, finding one was a problem. When I finally found one that was open, it was after 2 in the morning. But luckily it was largely empty, so getting an order wouldn't be a problem.
As I waited in line, there was a disheveled-looking girl wearing aviator sunglasses, jeans, an old t-shirt and baseball cap at the counter arguing with the cashier about her order. Apparently she didn't have enough cash to pay for it, and they didn't take credit cards.
"Come on! I just want a freakin' burger! Can't you handle this? I have the cash at home, I can pay you in like an hour!" she said in a raspy voice, sounding desperate.
The cashier wasn't budging, and the manager seemed ready to call Police. Things only got worse when a punkish photographer wandered in, realized the situation and started snapping pictures. This set the girl off even further, she tried to be calm, knowing cameras never blink.
I watched all this with more and more disdain. I finally stood in front of his camera and said;
"Excuse me;" I said calmly to the photog "isn't that one of those new Nikons?"
"Yeah, so?" he replied with attitude.
"I think you have it setup wrong, I have the same one and there's supposed to be an indicator light on, yours isn't. None of those photos are gonna come out." I explained. He stopped shooting for a minute and looked at his camera.
"I do a lot of the same work as you. It's a great camera but that lights gotta be on, man." I continued.
"What do you mean? Where is it?" he began turning his camera around and around.
"Here, let me show you," I took the camera from him and pointed to a button on the side "see, right here is where it is and..."
Click!
At that moment I pressed a button that popped out the memory card. I then did a quick juggle with it and it sailed into the condiments bar.
"Oh, my God!" I said.
I ran over to it, cleverly moving it under the ketchup and mustard dispensers. Before the photog could stop me, I pushed down and a huge squirt of ketchup and mustard "accidentally" drenched the memory card. All the while pretending I was just a clumsy guy.
"Oh, I am so sorry, that suckers ruined, maybe if you wash it off it'll be OK." I said, trying to be helpful.
"You fuckin' idiot!" he screamed "I'm gonna sue your ass! And you witnessed this! It's all on those cameras!" he pointed to the security cameras as he yelled at the Burger King staff. But the manager ordered the guy to leave and he stormed out.
The disheveled girl had stood watching all this with a mix of fascination and admiration. She began to smile at how this whole scene had unfolded. I turned to the cashier and said;
"Uh, how much does she owe? Could you add her meal to mine?" I said reaching into my wallet and with a calmer tone than what had just left.
"Oh, no, please! You don't have to do that." The girl said.
"No, no, it's the least I can do," I insisted. "Geez, they'll sell anybody a camera these days." I said shaking my head with weary disgust.
"I guess so." She replied, smiling and sliding down her aviators to look at me better.
I paid for both meals and went over to a table. She took hers and went to one facing me. Removing her glasses, she leaned over in my direction and whispered;
"Thank you so much! I'll send you the money."
"Oh come on! You don't have to. Just say that, uh, some nice guy bought you dinner tonight." I said.
She chuckled at my attempt at charm.
"I'm Jim, by the way." As I offered her my hand.
"Lindsay, Lindsay Lohan." She replied.
