The Murder Of Ramon Vasquez (2)

THE MURDER OF RAMON VASQUEZ (2)

The boys (Lincoln, to be more specific) then started being really brutal, slapping "The Great Lover" across his face, punching him and even making him do nasty things to them (they kept drinking wine
in the process). He begged them to leave him alone, but they wouldn't listen.

The brothers sat down again, finished their wine bottles. Found more in the kitchen. Brought them out, uncorked them and drank some more. Ramon Vasquez already looked as if he were in a trance of some sort, like a wax figure of a dead Star in the Hollywood Museum.

"We're gonna get the 5 grand and leave," said Lincoln.
"He said it ain't here," said Andrew.
"He's a liar. I'll get it out of him. You just sit here and enjoy your wine. I'll take care of him."

He picked up Ramon, threw him over one of his shoulders and carried him into the bedroom. Andrew sat there drinking the wine. He heard some talking and shouting from the bedroom. Then he saw the telephone. He dialed a New York City number, charged it to Ramon's phone. That's where his girlfriend was. She'd left Kansas City for the big time. But she still wrote him letters. Long ones. She wasn't making it yet.

"Who?"
"Andrew."
"Oh, Andrew, is something wrong?"
"Were you asleep?"
"I was just going to bed."
"Alone?"
"Of course."
"Well, there's nothing wrong. This guy is going to get me into the movies. He says I have a delicate face."
"Oh wonderful, Andrew! You have a beautiful face, and I love you, you know that."
"Sure. How is it going with you, kitten?"
"Not so good, Andy. New York is a cold town. Everybody tries to get into your panties, that's all they want. I'm working as a waitress, it's hell, but I think I'm getting a part in an off-Broadway play."
"What kinda play?"
"Oh, I don't know. It seems a little corny. Something written by a nigger."
"Don't you trust those niggers, babe."
"I don't. It's just for the experience. And they've got some big name actress working her part for free."
"Well, that's all right. But don't trust those niggers!"
"I'm no damn fool, Andy. I don't trust anybody. It's just for experience."
"Who's the nigger?"
"I don't know. Some playwright. All he does is sit around and smoke grass and talk revolution.
 It's the thing now. We gotta go with it until it blows over."
"That playwright, he isn't sleeping with you?"
"Don't be a damn fool, Andrew. I treat him nicely, but he's nothing but a pagan, a beast... And I'm so tired of being a waitress. All these wise-guys pinching your ass because they left a quarter tip. It's hell."
"I think of you all the time, baby."
"Hey! What's all that SCREAMING I hear?"
"Just a joke, babe. Big wild party here in Beverly Hills. You know these actors."
"It sounds like someone getting killed."
"Don't worry, babe. It's just a gag. Everybody drunk. Somebody practicing his lines. Love you. I'll phone or write again soon."
"Please do, Andrew. I love you."
"Night, sweets."
"Goodnight, Andrew."

Andrew hung up and walked toward the bedroom. He walked in and there was Ramon on the big double bed. He was very bloody. Lincoln held Ramon's famous cane that The Great Lover used in the movies. The cane had blood all over it.