‘Aim for the heart,’ Clint murmured, ‘or you’ll never stop me.’
Ramone kept on firing.
Marty had seen this movie before. A Fistful of Dollars, wasn’t it? The bullets didn't do anything to Eastwood, because he was wearing some kind of armour.
The women on either side of Biff giggled when Clint showed off the metal hiding under his serape.
Clint wasted another four guys. He didn’t even break a sweat.
‘Great flick,’ Biff murmured between puffs on his cigar. ‘Great friggin' flick.’
‘When the man with the forty-five,’ Clint said to Ramone, ‘meets the man with the rifle, you said the man without the rifle is a dead man. Let’s see if that’s true.’
The screen went black.
‘Hey!’ Biff ejaculated. ‘What the hell-’
Marty stepped out from behind the giant screen, where he had finally found the controls.
‘Party’s over, Biff,’ he said with a smile.
‘You!’ Biff demanded, waving his finger at Marty. ‘What are you doing here? How the hell did you get in here, anyway? How’d you get past my security downstairs?’
Marty just kept on smiling.
‘I managed.’
‘Well, you got just ten seconds to get your ass the hell out of here, or you’re gonna have to be carried out!’ Biff reached past the redhead and picked up the phone.
No. This was going too fast. Marty still needed to get some information.
‘There’s a little matter I need to talk to you about, ’ he added hurriedly.
‘Money, right?’ Biff paused in his phone call the smile back on his face. ‘Well, forget it.’
Marty shook his head. He had to be all business now.
‘Not money, no.’ He paused in what he hoped was a properly dramatic fashion.
‘Grey’s Sports Almanac,’ he added a moment later.
Biff stared at him.
‘You know what I’m talking about,’ Marty went on, slowly and deliberately. ‘It's a book Paperback, silver cover and jacket, with red letters, and pictures of a baseball player, a football player, a basketball player, and a jockey.’
Biff put the phone down.
‘You heard him, girls,’ he said, not taking his eyes off Marty. ‘Party’s over.’
Both women giggled as they climbed from the hot tub. Biff watched them as they left the room, then turned back to Marty.
He pushed himself out of the tub and grabbed a robe. ‘C’mon, kid. Let’s go talk where it’s private.’
Marty followed Biff into his private office. Biff went behind the desk. Marty looked down at the coffee table next to him. It was piled high with matchbooks.
‘ “Biff’s Pleasure Paradise”, the kid read aloud.
Black letters on a white matchbook. ‘Very cute.'