Although he really should not have paid for first class, Vincent enjoys the attention and service. He vows that he’ll make enough money to do this often. He feels spoiled and loves it.
At the hotel, he leaves a message on Paulie’s machine.
“Paulie, I’m here. It’s about 4:30 p.m., I guess. I’m in room 620 at Shutters right on the beach. Fucking beautiful. You have gotta love it out here.”
Paulie picks him up at seven to take him to a good Italian restaurant that he knows. They have not seen each other since Vincent left for the Army all those years ago. As good friends do, they fall into easy conversation immediately.
“The food is pretty good here. There are all kinds of Italian restaurants in L.A., and I intend on going to all of them.”
“We’ll see,” says Vincent, inspecting the menu, a task made more difficult by an endless number of gorgeous women in the restaurant. Vincent has never seen so many platinum blondes in one place.
“Vincent, keep your eyes on the menu. Those women would not give you a second glance, anyway.”
They talk for more than two hours, mostly about the Neighborhood and what everyone is doing. Paulie tells Vincent that he has not heard from Carolyn, except for a few letters and a rare phone call now and then. These days, he doesn’t know where they stand. Vincent doesn’t tell Paulie about Valerie. It’s just not worth it. All the while, Vincent picks up on the fact that Paulie seems to gloss over his family.
“Why don’t you take me back to the hotel,” Vincent suggests, after coffee. “We can walk along the beach and talk about your problem. Okay?”
“Yeah, sure.”
The moon shines bright, and it’s warm on the beach as they stroll and talk. Paulie lays out what he knows, and Vincent listens intently, as he always does. He wants all the details.
“What time does Mendoza leave the main store in the morning?”
“It varies. Why?”
“I want to get a look at him—his operation and everything. Let’s go out there together, first thing tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll have to tell my partner what I’m up to.”
“And why is that, G-Man? Can’t you do things on your own? I think you still need a wet nurse.”
“Vincent, this is not a caper. This is an FBI investigation, and she is my partner. I have to tell her.”
“Suit yourself but leave me out of it. Does tomorrow morning work or what?”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll handle her.”
They walk in silence for a few steps, then Vincent asks him to sit down. Paulie senses there’s going to be more to this walk.
“Okay, what?”
“You have to make up with Papa Tony. He is suffering, as is your mother. You messed up big time when you changed your name, fuck-head. Papa Tony is embarrassed and saddened by your choice—and by the way, I agree with him. What’s wrong with the name Agent Andriano anyhow? What, the FBI only hires white bread?”
Paulie thinks of Agent Orosco, and indeed, of his partner, Agent Caldwell. He feels even more shame. But Vincent is not done.
“It’s his name you changed, Paulie, and his honor. It was a big mistake and an insult, and you need to make it up to him. You have to at least talk to him. You should be fucking ashamed of yourself. You are my brother, but you piss me off with this FBI shit. Be an agent but give the old man the respect he deserves.”
Paulie hangs his head lower and lower, and a tear forms in his eye.
“Okay, Vincent, enough. I get it. I will call him, I promise, but not just yet. I’m under a lot of pressure with this case now. I want to see Papa Tony in person, anyway. Once this case is finalized, I will go back home.”
“Good. And just so you know: Nobody in the neighborhood or anyone else knows what you’ve done. I have not told a soul.”
Vincent looks up at the full moon. He puts his head in his hands and sighs.
“You are one stubborn fuck and always have been, G-Man. Okay, let’s solve this case. The sooner we do, the sooner I can get the fuck back to Chicago and get some decent food.”
Vincent gets up, brushes the sand off his pants, and heads back to the hotel.
”The earlier you pick me up, the better. Deliveries to grocery stores usually occur first thing. Take me to the busiest and largest store—other than the main one.”
“Alright, I’ll pick you up at six, okay?”
Vincent nods. “One more thing? Don’t dress like a Fed. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”