Home Free (10 page)

I found myself at the motorcycle shop. Kevin
had a Hog in about a million pieces on the floor, and it looked
like a hopeless mess to me. When he saw me, he stood and wiped the
grease off his hands with a shop rag, and we went to sit at the
grimy plastic table in the lunchroom. If anyone came in, they would
ding the little bell for service. Of course, if anyone came in,
we’d hear the roar of their pipes a good quarter-mile away, and the
little bell was probably superfluous.

“What’s up?”

“You remember Sherry Henderson?” I asked.

He gave me a blank look for a minute, and I
could see the wheels turning. “Blond, cheerleader, maybe?”

“Danny’s girlfriend your senior year.”

He nodded. “Right. She was hot.”

I thought of the disaster I’d seen this
morning and grimaced. “Well, not anymore. You know if she and Danny
ever saw each other since Danny moved back here?”

“Jeez, Alex, this is what you’re bothering me
at work for? Some crazy jealous shit?”

“She was living with Lonnie Chambers when
somebody put that bullet in his head.”

Kevin let his head sink slowly to the table,
then pounded it a couple times. “Holy fucking crap.”

My sentiments exactly.

“So what do you think, that Danny was
jealous? That makes no fucking sense. Lonnie was a fucking night
watchman at a fucking body shop, for crissake. Danny was a fucking
professional baseball player.” Kevin tended to swear more when he
got upset. Evidently he was a little agitated at the moment. “If he
had wanted Sherry back, there’s no fucking doubt he could have had
her.”

I knew that was true. “So you don’t know if
they’ve had any contact?”

“No fucking clue. Sorry.”

“You said Danny lives in the condominiums on
McKinley Street?”

“Yeah, Vista something.”

“Thanks.”

I left the bike shop and drove down Orchard
Avenue. There’s a great little Thai restaurant on the corner of
Orchard and Grant, and I detoured into their parking lot. There’s
no sign or anything, just small white print on the door that says
“Super Thai.” The inside is crammed with blue formica tables and
plastic benches with fake wood grain, a large television, the order
counter and, on the wall over the cash register, a small altar with
a picture of someone who I always assumed was the King of Siam. I
never thought to ask. I ordered Pad Thai noodles and Kang Panang, a
spicy red curry dish with beef, plus steamed Jasmine rice and two
Thai iced teas.

I had to make two trips with the food. I took
the drinks out and arranged them in the cup holders with napkins
under them so the condensation wouldn’t sweat all over the car. I
went back inside, collected my change and my large lunch bag, and
headed back out. Just then, a woman stepped out of the nail salon
next door, and I plowed into her. She squeaked and held her hands
up, waving her crimson fingertips and examining them for
damage.

“Jeez, sorry.”

She stared at me. “Alex Jordan?”

Crap. I nodded. Not a hint of recognition. I
was clearly missing that part of my brain. Or maybe I really did
have a brain tumor, and I had just forgotten about it.

She began enunciating exceedingly clearly and
speaking in the loud voice I reserve for communicating with my
nearly deaf, ninety-eight year old great-grandmother. “I’m Rory
Blankenship.” It came out, “I’M! RO-RY! BLANK-EN-SHIP!”

I blinked and nodded, stunned.

“HOW! ARE! YOU! FEELING?!”

Worse by the minute, Rory. “Okay?”

She looked at my enormous feedbag and forgot
to enunciate. “I’m surprised the chemo hasn’t taken away your
appetite! When my aunt had cancer, she couldn’t eat a thing!”

Hunh. I’d assumed the rumors, except for the
one about me and Murphy, which technically had wandered into the
realm of veracity as of last night, had been put to rest.
Apparently, in some circles, I still had not recovered. Rory’s name
sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place her, so I didn’t know
exactly which circles those would be.

“Well, I love Thai food, and now I can eat as
much as I want since I just barf it all up anyway,” I told her.

She wrinkled her nose, peering at my scalp.
I’d put my hair in a ponytail this morning without benefit of the
hair dryer, so I knew there was a good chance it had frizzed at the
ends and was looking rather baked. “I see the radiation has started
making your hair fall out! My aunt has some lovely wigs, if you’d
like to borrow one! I know she wouldn’t mind!”

“This
is
a wig,” I said.

Rory’s turn to blink. “Oh, I see, well of
course, so it is! Very nice! Now, if you need any help with your
boys, you just be sure and give me a call! I’m in the book!” She
had evidently decided I was delusional and possibly a danger,
because she began backing away from me, furtively looking over her
shoulder in an attempt to locate her car. She beeped the alarm
doo-dad and looked to see where the sound came from, relief
flooding her face.

“Thanks, Rory, I may just take you up on
that.” I knew she probably meant my mythical children, but I
thought Kevin and Jack would appreciate a nice, home-cooked meal.
They sure as hell weren’t getting any from me. “By the way, I
should warn you, since I see you were at the nail salon.”

“Warn me?”

“Yeah, the doctors think my brain tumor was a
result of exposure to chemicals in acrylic nails and nail
enamel.”

The blood drained from her face, and I felt a
little bit guilty. For all I knew, we were friends.

“Don’t worry,” I hurried on. “I’m sure it was
just a freak thing, I was predisposed to it or whatever. But, you
know, better safe than sorry.” I turned and got in the Element,
leaving her standing in the parking lot, staring at her fingernails
in anguish.

I merged with the flow of traffic, convinced
I was going to hell and worried that God would give me a
nail-polish-induced brain tumor as punishment. I dialed
Pauline.

“Pauline Horowitz.”

“Do I know Rory Blankenship?”

“Hello. Yes. She was in Ms. Iverson’s
homeroom class with us in seventh grade, and a few classes in high
school.”

“Do I like her?”

“You did until ninth grade, when she stole
Tony Ferrero from me, and told you in front of everybody at Darla
Trinidad’s party that you looked like you had traded legs with a
chicken and lost your ass in the deal.”

Oh.
That
Rory Blankenship. “Well,
good, then.” I figured it was her own bad karma, and God would
probably spare me.

“Would you like to share?”

“There’s a chance I may have implied that I
was dying of a brain tumor caused by nail polish, just as she came
out of the nail salon. It’s a little unclear.”

“Serves her right. Payback’s a bitch.”

I hung up the phone, hung a left on Olive,
then a right on McKinley. It took less than five minutes to get to
Danny’s condo. Vista del Mar was an inaptly named complex, since
there was no view of the ocean within a hundred and fifty miles of
the place. The condos were modest but nice, two stories, with
miniature yards in front, and they were attached to one another
only on one side, so it was more like a network of duplexes than
condominiums. There was a gate at the entry, along with a telephone
pad and a listing of residents’ names. I found Danny’s, but I
didn’t know if he’d let me in, considering how well our previous
two encounters had gone. I called his next door neighbor, a Mrs.
Dunbar.

“Yes?”

“Delivery for Salazar.”

“Oh, that’s not me.”

“Sorry, can you buzz me in anyway? His Thai
food is getting cold.”

There was no response, but the gate swung
open. Who said television isn’t educational? I drove in and circled
around to the right, looking for number nineteen.

It was towards the back, overlooking the
communal swimming pool. There was a two-car garage that faced the
front, plus a single parking space for guests. I slid into the spot
as Danny sauntered out, barefoot, in a pair of great fitting Levi’s
and a navy t-shirt with the letters FDNY stretched taut across his
chest, looking very much like a Calvin Klein ad. I felt myself
start to overheat, even before I shut off the air conditioner.

“So you’re the mystery delivery girl,” he
said, opening my door.

I hopped out. “Mrs. Dunbar is a
busybody.”

“You better actually have Thai.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’m sure I can think of something.” He
looked over my outfit. I hoped his assessment wasn’t the same as
Rory’s. “So Murphy gets the sexy platform shoes, and I get red
high-top sneakers?”

“I’m wearing thong underwear,” I offered.

“Let’s see,” he said, hooking a finger
through my belt loop.

I batted his hand away and stuck out my
tongue.

“Doesn’t matter. I can picture it anyway.” He
paused, looking skyward, then nodded. “Sexy. The jury’s still out
on this car, though,” he added, smacking the hood of the
Element.

“The seats fold down to make a double
bed.”

“Well, that’s certainly a plus, but I don’t
know if it’s enough to convince me. Is it comfortable?”

Compared to what? I wondered. A tile
entryway? I hadn’t been under the impression that the relative
comfort of the surface mattered much to him. I guessed he was
thinking of his bad knees.

“I haven’t tried it.”

“That’s a shame. I can help you check it out,
if you want. After lunch, of course.”

I rolled my eyes. I handed him the drinks and
grabbed my purse and the bag of food. I followed him inside, dumped
the bag on the kitchen counter and looked around while he got out
plates and silverware. The entry hall made an L-shape, with one leg
leading to a couple of bedrooms and a bath. The other leg opened
first to the kitchen, then to the open dining area and finally to
the living room. Sliding glass doors in the living room offered a
view of the small yard, decorated with potted plants and a couple
of lounge chairs with bright floral print cushions and a patio
table. Above the kitchen was a master bedroom loft that looked down
into the living room and beyond, into the yard. Danny’s furniture
was mostly Ikea, with a little Pier One thrown in for warmth. But I
guessed he’d spent more money on the entertainment system than on
all the furniture and appliances combined. It took up an entire
wall of the living room, big screen television, several audio
components, half a dozen speakers, at least that many remote
controls strewn on the glass coffee table. The place was neat,
except for the remnants of last night’s takeout pizza and two empty
beer bottles on the dining room table. I shoved the box to one side
to make room for the plates. We dished out noodles and rice and
curry and ate in silence for awhile.

Finally, Danny asked, “Your boyfriend isn’t
going to show up in that idiotic truck of his, is he?”

I snarled. “Jealous?”

“What do you think?”

Honestly, I didn’t know what to think. “He’s
not my boyfriend. He’s just - ”

“I know, I know. Doing some work around the
house.” He gave me a smug look. “You know, I can be pretty handy
around the house, myself.”

“Hunh.” And around the back yard, and around
my father’s garage, and around the backseat of a convertible
Mustang, if I remembered correctly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You on your lunch hour? Or are you a
volunteer for meals on wheels or something?”

“I’m a free-lance graphic designer. I work at
home, so I don’t really have a particular lunch hour.”

“So what’s with the Thai food?”

“You like Thai food.”

“And?”

“Maybe I wanted to be nice.”

“
And
?”

I sighed. “Fine. Have you seen Sherry
Henderson lately?” I assumed he’d think the same thing Kevin had,
that I was some sort of jealous twit.

He paused, his fork midway to his mouth, and
creased his forehead, thinking. “I’ve run into her at the
supermarket once or twice.” He finished his bite and gave a shiver.
“Not a pretty sight.”

“Did you know she was using, and probably
selling, drugs?”

“We didn’t have a conversation about it, Lex.
We passed each other in the produce section and said hello. I
almost didn’t recognize her. But, sure, based on her appearance, I
assumed she was using.” He gave me a questioning look. “What’s this
all about?”

“Did you have any idea her boyfriend liked to
smack her around?”

He shrugged, I don’t know. “Is there a point
around here somewhere, Lex, or are we just playing twenty
questions?”

“Danny, her boyfriend was Lonnie Chambers,
the night watchman at the bodyshop. For crissake, please tell me
you didn’t know that.”

He sat up slowly and set his fork down on the
plate. Our eyes locked, and his face grew dark.

“Why don’t you go ahead and ask me what you
really want to ask, Lex.”

“Look, Danny,” I began. I didn’t get very
far.

He stood up fast, sending his chair flying
backwards into the wall, and hammered his hands down on the table
so hard that the plates jumped almost as high as I did.

“I don’t fucking believe what you’re
implying,” he growled. “Jesus, do you know me at
all
?”

I had my mom’s car and had gone over to
Derek’s house. His folks weren’t home, and we were hanging out in
the living room, watching some TV to kill time before we went to
the movies. He started to get a little gropey, and I moved further
down the couch. He followed. I sighed and picked up the remote,
clicking off the television. I’d been making excuses not to sleep
with him for awhile now. Sex with Derek had been bad enough with no
frame of reference. But compared to Danny, it became intolerable. I
knew I needed to break up with him, but I’d been avoiding the
unpleasantness. Now seemed like as good a time as any.