Drive Me Crazy (36 page)

“Hancock Park area?” I asked.

“Hold on. Call coming in.”

A woman hurried over to Freeman, stopped in front of him, got his attention. Another fan. Sade moved on by him, pulled out her passkey and got on the elevator. By the time her elevator had vanished two more women had joined the first one. They were smiling and gamming Freeman’s head off, pulling out pieces of paper for him to sign. Tourists. Locals don’t do that. Out here if you’re not Denzel or Julia Roberts you ain’t all that. Freeman was probably the closest thing they’d seen to a real celebrity since they got to Cali.

I left the car with valet, headed inside, was almost at the bar before Wolf’s resident computer guru, Sid Levine, came back on the line.

Sid said, “Sorry about that. Prince is coming to town. Everybody’s trying to get a limo.”

“Hancock Park.”

“What?”

“The glitch.”

“Oh, yeah. It headed toward Hollywood and—”

“Did it head toward Hancock Park last night?”

“Hold on. Phone again.”

I grabbed a seat at the bar, sent a smile toward Daniela the Bartender. She came over, put down a napkin, and I ordered a ginger ale. A few seconds later my drink was in front of me; so was that crossword puzzle I had put in my pocket.

“Hasty.” First letter F. Fifth letter I. Eighth letter T. Nine letters total. Had no idea.

I was holding on, bouncing my foot, letting the mental challenge calm me down.

By the time I got settled Sade had come back down, was getting off the elevator. Freeman was still jabbering. Sade moved by him like she didn’t know him and made a beeline for the bar. He saw her and didn’t acknowledge her. She saw me and smiled. She did just like she had done yesterday, put her pretty little purse in a seat next to me, then squatted a seat down.

I looked back toward Freeman.

I lowered my cellular, told Sade, “Freeman’s hot.”

“He’s about to go upstairs and get the bobbleheads.”

“Cool. He gives them away.”

“Oh, please. He gives them away for a twenty-dollar donation.”

Palms damp, I stared back at Freeman. Anxiety was kicking my ass from all angles.

At the elevator Freeman took out his wallet and brandished his passkey.

That pissed me the fuck off.

A minute went by before Sid came back on the line. By then Sade had her legs crossed, was three sips deep into her chocolate martini, sipping her salvation and going full throttle in a conversation with Daniela the Bartender, all words being spoken in Italian.

I made like I was deep in my crossword, challenging my brain.

“Hasty.” Nine letters total. FESTINATE was the answer. That had been bugging me.

It took a minute of jabbering to get Sid Levine back on track, back to the glitch.

He told me, “Come to think of it, the glitch did move in that direction, stopped, went south for a little while, then I think it stopped moving somewhere in South Central.”

Manhattan Beach toward Hancock Park then to South Central. That was the route that Panther had driven me last night. When she wanted to speed her need for revenge to Lisa’s front door. Hancock Park was on this side of Hollywood, so it would’ve looked like the dot was moving toward the land of waiters, waitresses, and broken dreams. Sid told me the dot went to South Central. That was when we had regrouped and found that cheap hotel on Fuck Row.

I asked, “You tell Wolf?”

“He didn’t care. As long as all of his property was accounted for, the glitch didn’t bother him too much. He’s been ... dunno ... he ain’t been all there lately. Distracted. Out of it.”

I yawned, then shook off my exhaustion. “The glitch roll back toward L.A. after that?”

“The glitch? Nope. Stayed in South Central until this morning.”

“Until this morning?”

“Yeah.”

“It didn’t move toward Leimert Park, the Crenshaw District ... ?”

“Not on my shift. I got up a few times, but I didn’t see it move. I was here messing around until almost two in the morning. Came back in around nine. Maybe eight-something.”

We’d gone out hunting for a lion and a jackal after that stop in South Central. Maybe the tracker wasn’t on Panther’s car. If it was on my car it would still be down in Manhattan Beach. Head hurt. Needed sleep. Couldn’t think. But I tried. The only thing that made sense was that it had to be a signal on the ride of whoever she had trailing me, and they had to be damn good.

Then everything shifted. There was some drama going on at the front desk. Winds were stirring, the start of a hurricane. A manager was on the phone, freaking out, like somebody was cursing at her and she was trying to calm them down. She hung up and made another call.

I stayed on point and asked Sid, “Where was the glitch when you came in this morning?”

“Came out here.”

“What you mean?”

Sade’s cellular phone rang. She looked at the number, made a face, and put the phone back down. Her expression told me it was Freeman and she wasn’t in the mood. She sipped her martini. Sipped it like it was water after days in the desert, did that with integrity and control.

Sid told me, “When I came in the glitch was moving toward LAX.”

“Uh huh. Went to the airport?”

“That’s what I thought. But when I went and got coffee and came back, it was in our parking lot, with the rest of the fleet, at least it looked that way.”

“You go and look to see who it was?”

“Was too busy. Got caught up watching Alicia Keys, Sessions at AOL and—”

“Is the glitch still there?”

“Alicia Keys. She is so damn—”

“The glitch.”

“—beautiful and talented. Her, Missy, Tamia, and Beyoncé in concert? Awww, man.”

“Sid. The glitch.”

“Oh. The glitch moved a few times.”

“Where is it now?”

“Hold on. Have to pull that screen back up. Damn pop-ups. I’ll have to go out and surf Google for a better pop-up blocker.”

Sade’s cellular rang again. She looked at it again. Made a stop-bothering-me face.

Hotel staff was rushing for the elevator with a member of hotel security.

Sid came back, told me, “Santa Monica.”

I said, “I’m in Santa Monica.”

“Yeah. You had the Freeman thing. Oh, yeah. I see the signal from the car you’re in. Dag. If I’m looking at this right, you should be able to see whoever it is from where you are.”

“How far is it from where I am?”

“Wait, let me change the screen and look at latitude and longitude. Push this button ... get yours ... and ... get that one ...” He paused, then got all excited. “Dag. Check this shit out.”

“What?”

“It’s on top of you. This is wild. Same friggin’ longitude and latitude.”

My insides jumped. I looked around. Lots of cars were outside. Whoever it was could be right outside the front door, on the other side of the roundabout. Lots of people were in the dining area grubbing and at the bar getting their drink on. Even more people were out on the beach. Right now everybody looked like a suspect. Even old white women carrying poodles.

I looked down at my shoes. My tie. My cuff links.

I looked up at the sky.

Impossible.

I asked, “How accurate are those things?”

“My guess would be no more than fifty yards off. Seventy-five max.”

I walked out and looked, tense and ready. Too many cars to count. Could be anybody.

Then I thought about last night, about us going to hunt the lion and jackal.

Lisa didn’t know.

It didn’t show up on the GPS screen.

What didn’t make sense made sense. Realization hit me hard and strong.

Lisa was vindictive, that went without question. Cunning. The kind of woman who ran a background check on every man she met, did that before she bedded him. The same way politicians bugged their adversaries’ offices, she bugged her lovers. When I thought about it I realized that Big Sister had been tracking my every move damn near since our first kiss.

My bones felt white hot, vision dark, eyes red, could hardly get a breath.

Sade’s cellular rang again. This time she answered with a whip, “What, Marcus? Why are you calling me a thousand times a minute?”

She listened. Her eyebrows furrowed.

“Broken into?”

Her mouth dropped open.

Then she was on her feet, rushing toward the elevator.

I told Sid Levine I’d holla at him later, maybe when I got back to the office.

He said, “Driver.”

“What up?”

“I figured it out. The glitch.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. I know what’s going on.”

“What’s going on, Sid?”

Sid Levine paused for dramatic effect.

“What’s going on, Sid?”

“Wolf is following his wife around. Like they do in the movies. I think she’s cheating on him and he’s tracking her. Smart, huh?”

“Yeah. Smart.”

I hung up, knowing.

I expected squad cars to pull up in front of the hotel, guns drawn for the killing. Expected the media to flock in, expected helicopters to start circling overhead like vultures.

Nothing happened. The hotel staff looked hyped, something was going on in the background, on Freeman’s floor, but they kept up a good show at the front desk.

I went to the house phone. Asked for Folasade Coker’s room. Already had made up a reason to call. Could tell her she had left her drink, ask if she was coming back. Maybe even tell her that we could get together for that drink as soon as I turned the sedan in. No answer. Asked for Thomas Marcus Freeman. The line was busy. Folasade Coker again. No answer.

The passkey I’d lifted from Sade was sleeping in my pocket. All I had to do was brandish that key, take the elevator up to the fifth floor, and look down the hallway to see what was going down. But a foolish move like that was why a lot of men ended up living in a cage.

Fear crawled up my back, moved around my neck, whispered in my ear.

I rushed for the front door, then changed my mind. Walked back to the bar. Ordered a shot of JD. We’d been apart too long. Gazed at that golden amber liquid. A man’s salvation and liquid courage. Made love to my friend in a way I had never done before. It was a quickie, not long and tender and methodical and pleasing. I downed that shot and headed for the sedan.

Fear didn’t leave, but the bitch stopped whispering.

By the time I made it back to the plantation Sid Levine was gone. I passed by Margaret Richburg in the garage. She was leaving, had a pickup at LAX that was going to Palmdale.

Lisa wasn’t in the office. That was good.

But Wolf was waiting for me. Not good. He called me into his office. Shut the door.

I’d choked his wife halfway to hell. I was using his business to commit a crime.

I looked behind me. Still no police. Heard no sirens.

But they didn’t always turn on their sirens, sometimes they just stormed a room.

Wolf stood on one side of his desk. I stood on the other. He didn’t ask me to sit down.

Today he was Donald Trump with a long ponytail, Nordic features, a James Dean stance.

Tension clouded the room and thickened the air. He moved a little. I did the same. No words between us. Just stares. Felt like we were in a remake.
Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.

This day, this moment was inevitable. All that was done in the dark came to light.

Wolf told me, “I want to apologize for the other day.”

“Man, don’t even—”

“Hear me out, Driver.”

“Sounds like you’re pulling rank.”

“If I have to. If I need to. This isn’t easy for me, so bear with me.”

I told him, “You were right. About my marriage.”

“What I said wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s cool. The first marriage is always like the first pancake. Always fucked up.”

Wolf nodded. No time for jokes to cover his uneasiness. He’d been wrestling with this all day, I could tell. Sitting here waiting for me to get off so this confrontation could happen.

“Driver, hear me out. I’ve lost a lot of sleep over this. I can’t do this anymore.”

I settled where I stood, discomfort surrounding me with an Arctic chill. That hit of JD had only settled my nerves, wasn’t enough to send me toward Don’t Give a Shit, USA.

This man had been my friend for half a year. Had never done wrong by me.

Wolf was shifting, clenching his jaw, finding it impossible to look at me. I was doing the same. We wanted this done so we could get the fuck away from each other.

Wolf said, “It’s not your fault what’s going on in my marriage.”

“Maybe it is, Wolf.”

His lips created a smile. “Whatever is going on was going on before you were around.”

I nodded.

“I love that woman, Driver. Love her beyond reason.”