Hollywood Ending by Kathy Charles

still riding my back.
    A car drove past, the driver honking the horn. Benji put away his camera and lay down on the grass. I wondered what I could do to make amends, and decided to tell him about my adventure the previous day. I hadn’t been sure about whether I would mention it to Benji, but if I planned on visiting Hank again, which I did, it would be difficult to keep it from him. I picked at my chipped nail polish and tried to act casual.
    â€˜Hey, you know that old guy from the other day? That guy called Hank?’
    â€˜You mean the creepy guy from Bernie Bernall’s place?’
    I paused. ‘I went to see him yesterday.’
    Benji sat up. ‘What do you mean, you went to see him?’
    â€˜I went back to his place.’
    â€˜What? Why? Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were doing that?’
    â€˜You were busy getting your teeth whitened.’
    Benji got up on his elbows, his face reddening. ‘What the hell would you do a stupid thing like that for?’
    â€˜Why would you give him my phone number?’
    â€˜It was a joke! A stupid joke because you like Harold and Maude ! You know? And we’d laugh it off and not be having this conversation about you going to some sleazy old dude’s place alone. I didn’t know you liked Harold and Maude that much. I didn’t think you’d go on a fucking date with the guy.’
    â€˜It wasn’t a date, you dick. He said he had something to give me.’
    Benji scoffed. ‘I’m sure he did.’
    â€˜Here. Look.’
    I took the heart-shaped jewellery box from my bag and pulled out the tile. Benji snatched it from me and examined it.
    â€˜Is this from his bathroom?’
    â€˜No. It’s from Jayne Mansfield’s swimming pool.’
    Benji looked at me, disbelieving. ‘Bullshit.’
    â€˜It’s true. He worked on her pool when he first came to LA. Be careful with it.’
    Benji put the tile in the palm of his hand, almost shaking.
    â€˜Can I have it?’
    â€˜You’ve gotta be kidding me.’
    I snatched the tile back and put it carefully in the box. Benji lay down again, sulking.
    â€˜That was still a stupid thing to do,’ he said. ‘That guy was nuts. The way he freaked out when we knocked on the door. He’s hiding something. You said so yourself.’
    Benji was right. I could feel it too, something about the way Hank looked at you. It was as if he was always trying to decide whether he could trust you.
    â€˜He had a mark on his arm,’ I blurted, not sure if I wanted Benji to know but not able to help myself. ‘It was all blurred and burnt, like someone had tried to take it off with acid. It was near his wrist.’
    â€˜Russian mafia.’
    â€˜But he didn’t have any others. Don’t the Russian mafia have tattoos all over their bodies?’
    â€˜Maybe he wasn’t that high up. Maybe he only made it to single-tattoo status.’
    I thought about the size of the mark, the blueness of the ink. ‘I think he was in a concentration camp.’
    â€˜Naaaah. If he was ever in a concentration camp there is no way he would try and get rid of that number. It’s like a badge of honour among those people.’
    â€˜Those people?’
    â€˜Yeah. It’s a sympathy ticket.’
    I let it slide. Benji was always saying things purely to be controversial. At least, I hoped that’s what it was. If he truly believed some of the things he said, then I seriously needed to reassess why I was friends with him.
    â€˜Anyway,’ I continued, ‘I was thinking I’d go see him again. He seems lonely.’
    â€˜Do what you gotta do, but I don’t think the dude’s got piles of cash hidden under his mattress, if you know what I mean. When that guy pops off he’s leaving a big fat zero, so if you’re planning some kind of Anna Nicole Smith agenda, I think you’ve backed the wrong