Very Modern Love - Episode #2 - The Secret Life of Edgar Horowitz

Eddie sipped a fancy aperol spritz, careful not to stain the tailored italian suit. Trained eyes moved imperceptibly from the entrance, to the side exit, then to the back kitchen egress of Trattoria Della Notte, the city’s most exclusive restaurant. And a suspected major narcotics distribution operation.

Kingpin was still a no-show…so keep working, collecting, he thought. The classy entranceway bar was target-rich. And the view wasn’t bad either.

“You clean up nice, Lorenzo.” Angelina Dicesaro moved from behind the bar in his direction, a fancy red wine and corkscrew in hand. “Ready for something stronger?” 

When Eddie didn’t look up right away, she leaned into him, guiding a few strands of jet black hair astride dazzling brown eyes and thin silver loops. Only the subtle chewing of gum threw off the vibe of what Eddie considered a perfect looking woman. He cooly checked his watch, playing off not answering to his undercover name. “Angie, honey. Call me Enzo. My friends do.” He finished the spritz, then grinned.

“Got anything…full-bodied?”

“Do I?”  Angelina suppressed a laugh. The happy bartendress showed off her own toned, full-body as she uncorked the Barbaresco and set him up a generous pour.

“You know I shouldn’t be talkin’ to you.” Angie looked back at the office door. “Word is you got business with Johnny Sr.” Eddie knew he’d been pushing it, and now had to be careful. Angelina had already given him a lot. It was scary how easily he got women talking.

“Well, that depends.” His eyes were now on high alert. “Depends if we can help each other.” He pretended to take his first sip of the Barbaresco as Angelina moved to the other end of the bar. 

Something suddenly seemed off. And then he felt a large hand on his shoulder.

“Lorenzo Amato?” A large, humorless man who’s bare hands probably killed someone earlier that day stood just inches behind him.

“Call me Enzo, my friends call me…”

“Come with me, Lorenzo.” Eddie felt himself being steered forcefully toward the back office door, suddenly ajar. Angelina was nowhere in sight.

********

Eddie immediately recognized the man behind the desk. Pauli “No Signal” Puzzolli - short, heavyset and with an extreme comb-over. Pauli was notorious in the underworld for never learning how to operate a smartphone.

“Well look at you, Mr Lorenzo…uh…Tommy, what the hell is this guy’s name?”

“Call me Enzo.” Uber-cool under pressure, Eddie casually scrolled through his phone. It was sure to trigger Pauli.

“Tommy take that fuckin’ thing from this smartass. And check him for a piece.” The huge guy moved deliberately from the office doorway towards Eddie. 

“Pat him for a wire. I don’t trust this guy, he’s out there pumpin’ the girls for…”

In one sweeping motion, Eddie delivered a spinning roundhouse kick to Tommy’s skull. As Tommy crumpled, he pivoted toward the desk in time to grab Pauli who desperately clutched a Glock 19 from the drawer. One quick snap freed the gun, and likely broke Pauli’s wrist in several places.

And like a stealth breeze, Eddie was out through the emergency back exit door and into the alley. The thug was out cold, but the underboss, despite noted challenges with modern communication, would certainly summon help. Hostile pursuit was coming, and fast. 

Eddie moved silently down the alley until he heard footsteps, not from behind but up ahead. The clickety-clack of high heels struggling on cobblestone.

“Angie!”  It was simultaneously a commanding shout and a comforting whisper. Angelina Dicesero was used to life on the edge. She’d seen things. But true fear never fully took her over when a strong male presence, usually well armed, was on her side. She stopped her frantic run to nowhere and turned to face him. 

“They’re gonna kill me. Lorenzo, what did you do back there?”  

A motorcycle mystically appeared, parked in a concealed alcove of the alley. Eddie took her in his arms and smiled. “I keep telling you to call me Enzo.” He pressed a pod, and the cycle’s engine rumbled to life. Then he knelt to remove the broken high heels off of her wounded feet. “These look expensive. We can fix’em”. 

He tossed them in the saddlebag as he propped her up onto the bike. In seconds, they were off.

As Eddie slowed to take the first intersection, a hoodie at three o’clock appeared to be giving chase. Then he noticed the drawn piece, and then the man screaming at him. “You fucked with the wrong people.” 

Angie’s grip tightened around Eddie’s waist as he gunned it through the stop sign, turning away from the pursuit. Two gunshots whizzed by close. Too close.

They zigzagged through a dark, quiet urban maze, the early evening rain having left significant puddles in the cratered streets. As they approached the city limits, they were both soaked to the bone. Eddie felt her face and wet hair pressed into his right ear. 

“Where are you taking me?”

“Angie, you’re in real danger. There’s a safehouse a few minutes away.”

“Who exactly are you?”

As Eddie guided them toward the interstate, he scanned ahead both ways, then behind. He’d lost them. For now. 

“Horowitz. FBI.”

********

“There are dry clothes in that standing closet back there. See if any fit.” 

Eddie heard her getting out of the shower. He conducted a room sweep to be sure this safehouse was in fact, safe. Once complete, he pulled two Heineken’s from the fridge door, then rifled through a utility drawer for an opener. Having narrowly escaped death tonight, he’d earned this beer.

“I found this.” Angelina stepped down the hall towards him in an oversized white men’s dress shirt, sleeves rolled, unbuttoned to mid-chest. Her damp black hair was tied up with a few casual strands loose around her face. Pants remained an unresolved problem. 

Eddie handed her the beer, studying her head to toe. “We’ll have them take it in a little.”

Angelina swallowed three-quarters of the Heineken in one sip. After the death-defying motorcycle ride, they had graduated beyond flirting. She set down the beer and moved right into his personal space. 

“Got anything a bit more…full-bodied?”

Eddie hesitated. “We need to go through a few things. Really important things.”

“How long do I have to stay here?” Angelina’s eyes searched the walls for a clock.  

“I don’t know yet. Until the heat is off.” Eddie desperately needed a shower himself, but this was not the time. “Let’s sit down and go through what happens next. This location’s not set up for this scenario.”

Angelina picked up her beer and moved to the sofa. Eddie’s body language recognized his own  dampness. He shook off the invitation to join her there.

“You sure are a man of mystery.  Detective…Horowitz..is it?  Lorenzo?  Enzo?  Ginzo?  What is it exactly?”

“Eddie. Just call me Eddie.”

Angelina rearranged the hanging front of the white shirt to cross her legs demurely. A gold chain adorned her left ankle, and she looked down admiring it. She finished off her beer and set down the empty.  “Eddie, who can I tell that I’m here.”

“No one, and I mean it, Angie…absolutely no one. In fact, give me your phone, because they…”

A gentle knock sounded on the front door. Eddie shot a look of panic at Angelica and she returned a sheepish expression. “Too late. They’re here.”

Eddie drew his firearm and moved to the door. He checked the peephole, then sighed, secured his weapon and unlatched the door. A very chic Asian girl and a taller, stunning black female, stood in the doorway, arm in arm. Eddie grabbed the nearer girl and pulled the conjoined couple inside.

“Eddie…Meet Lulu…and Roxy.”  He watched in surreal amazement as he observed three of the sexiest women humanity ever created hug each other tightly.

Angelina took Eddie’s hand. “Lulu and Roxie, they’re just like me. They’re on the inside. They know things.”

Eddie’s mind raced to keep up with the rapidly evolving situation. “So they’re in danger, too.”  

Angelica squeezed Eddie’s hand even tighter as Roxy opened the fridge and Lulu roamed the hallway. “Can you really protect us? All three of us?”

Lulu called out from the bedroom. “Hey Rox…this joint’s only got one bed.”

Roxie popped the cap off a Heineken. “Yo, Angie..you and this damn fine drinka water don’t take up much space.” She smiled and took a long sip. “And me and Lu usually sleep…uh… intertwined, if you know what I mean.”  

Eddie panicked and started screaming. “Lulu!  Roxie!  Angie!.........”

Suddenly and explicitly, everything went black.

**********

“Who in the hell are Lulu and Roxie?” Beth put down her word search paperback on the bed covers, in mild consternation. 

Lying back on a pillow, Edgar Horowitz fiddled with his Meta Quest 2 headset, confused as to why this particularly entertaining simulation ended so abruptly. “What happened?”

“I turned them off.” Beth was perturbed. “Look, I bought you that for entertainment. Not to cheat on me.”

“Honey, I didn’t do anything.  I mean…I wasn’t gonna do anything. This FBI sim…it was just so cool. Man, that was intense.”

“And so you just threw three hot girls in the mix?”

Edgar felt defensive. “Every crime drama has hot chicks…I mean, women. They're just a plot point, honey. Like the women in those Jason Bourne movies.”

Beth patted her nerdy husband on his belly. “Edgar, isn’t our real life exciting enough for you? She plucked her pencil from her ear and went back to the word search.  

He fluffed his pillow but couldn’t get comfortable. “What gets you excited, Beth? I mean it. I love our life, but I gotta say, it’s fun to have a little escape from reality every once in a while. Maybe puzzles do it for you.” He closed his eyes tightly. “I’m sorry I don’t.”

“Ah honey, you always do it for me.” Beth slid alongside her chubby husband and rested her head on his chest. I’m glad you like your present.” The negative energy between them evaporated in their snuggle. In a few minutes, Edgar Horowitz was snoring loudly. 

Beth put her word search book and pencil on the nightstand and turned off the lamplight. She rearranged her fortress of pillows for sleep, as she always did. vowing to finally change out of her overworn pair of sleep sweats tomorrow night.

She felt Edgar's birthday present on the bedcovers between and picked them up. Those headphones were just harmless fun.

*********

Two tuxedoed gentlemen strode across the elegant VIP club on the top floor of the Venetian Las Vegas. Brad waived at actor Dev Patel and his girlfriend as they strode past the roulette wheel. George scooped a waiting tray of three martinis from a private bar. They’d been specially shaken in anticipation of their arrival. 

“Right here, gentleman.” A large black man in a dark suit with an earpiece smiled as he motioned them into the casino’s most exclusive space. 

Like a waiter, George set the tray on the finely appointed round red velvet table with three high back chairs. “Melvin, we are all set, my man.” 

“Well, you two just let me know if I can get you anything.” Melvin reached into a cabinet and set before them a small leather pouch and three shiny mahogany racks.

“The Scrabble room is all yours, gentlemen.” George Clooney and Brad Pitt raised their martinis and toasted each other. “And I see your third has arrived.”

A vision right off Ipanema beach sauntered into the room. Tall and tan and young and lovely, the stunning brunette in a creme-colored, form fitting bodysuit and legs for miles, Beth Horowitz lifted the third martini glass.  

“So boys, what are we playing for tonight?”

Brad looked at George. “What we always play for."

They said it together. “The love of the game.”

Brad laid down the game’s first word.  T-H-R-E-E. Beth pulled a pencil from her ear and jotted down his 18 points. She always loved being the one who kept score. 

George smiled slyly at her. “Ah…I have a play…but I’m not sure about it.” 

Brad snuck a peak behind his friend as Beth protested. “Hey…no teaming up.”

George began putting down his tiles, starting with an S on the end of T-H-R-E-E as Beth again protested.  “T-H-R-E-E-S isn’t a word, it’s just…”

Brad helped his friend position all the tiles as Beth studied this curious play.  T-H-R-E-E-S-O-M-E.

George rested his hand on hers. “So darling, what do you think of that word?”

She pretended to count the tally as a smile formed on Beth Horowitz’s face. “I’ll allow it.”