L.A. Success (13 page)

7

When we got home he wanted to go straight to the internet chess, but I told him he had to get shampooed up first. I didn't think he'd do it alone, but after a little hesitation he took a shower by himself.

I went out to the Mercedes and got the parabolic microphone out of the trunk. I took it inside and replaced the batteries. The sound crackled a little more than it used to, and I got an occasional shock on the hand, but at least it worked.

That afternoon I was flipping through the channels when Spieldburt's shark movie came on. I was thinking I had underestimated this Hollywood bozo. Maybe he wasn't all cute alien after all. Here was a guy who had made a movie about a monster swimming around tearing people's limbs off, and I was starting to think that I was like one of those swimmers who had no idea where the shark was or when they'd see it again. Actually, some of those guys in the movie at least had boats and radar to find their shark. My Sharkburt was protected by guards and an uppity New-England prick. And what if he never even decided to come up for a bite? How was I going to get my money?

That night back at my place I decided to hit Tommy up for the next month's rent. It was a little early, but I had given him unlimited use of my car, so I was sure he wouldn't mind. I knocked on his door. I didn't wait for him to answer because it would have taken him too long to find the words.

Tommy was sitting at a little desk he had recently bought, typing away on his computer.

“Hi Tommy,” I said.

“L.O.,” he answered. I looked over his shoulder at what he was typing. It was a lot of math stuff that looked pretty complicated.

“What are you working on?”

“Computair program,” he said, with all the stress on the wrong syllables.

“What kind?” His eyes started wandering around, so I knew he was looking for words. He looked around longer than usual, so I figured I'd throw him a bone and change the subject. “Do you have the rent? It's early, so if you don't, that's cool.”

“Rent? Oh yes. Rent, I 'ave rent.” He began rifling through the drawers of his desk. While he was doing that, I got a tickle in my nose, and I knew I was going to have to sneeze. I looked around, but there were no tissues in his room. I reached into my pocket and felt something soft. I took it out just in time, sneezed all over it, and was getting ready to put it back in my pocket when I saw that it was Gertie's sexy underwear. I kind of freaked out because I had just jammed my nose into an old lady's thong, so I tossed it like a hot potato. It landed on Tommy's unmade bed. He finally found his checkbook, so he turned around and rolled closer to me in his office chair.

“'Ow do I, uh, fill up ze check?” he asked. He didn't look over toward his bed, and even if he had, he probably wouldn't have noticed anything. His sheets were the same color as the underwear—fire-truck red.

I showed Tommy how to fill out the check, all the while waiting for the moment I could step over to his bed and grab the thong. He needed help with almost everything, so I couldn't step away. When he got done writing, he tore off the check and handed it to me. Then he just sat there looking at me, waiting to see if I needed anything else.

“Well, thanks Tommy. Oh, by the way, a woman is coming tomorrow. Let her in the house. Tomorrow, let the woman in the house, okay?”

“Okay.”

I backed out of the room, eyeing that little thong, and shut the door.

I was tired and wanted to go to bed, but I hung out in the living room with the big poodle, hoping that Tommy would step out long enough for me to run in and grab the goods. He never came out, and I ended up dozing off. When I woke up on the couch it was 3am, and the light in Tommy's room was still on. I could hear him typing away, so I gave up and went to bed.

8

I woke up late the next morning. The first thing I did was go over to Tommy's door. I opened it and peeked in, hoping he'd be at his morning classes, but he was sleeping away. I couldn't see the thong anymore because he had rolled around in the sheets. Maybe he hadn't seen anything, but I was seriously worried because if he found it, he might think I had been doing in his bed, and then he'd move out and I'd never find a tenant willing to do all the housework.

I walked over to Dennis' and got ready for my lunch with Helen. I put on the best clothes Dennis had, combed my hair, and made some final adjustments in the mirror. I had to admit that I was looking better than ever. I wasn't expecting any miracles, but I figured that Helen would be curious enough to talk to me for a while.

I got to Culver City early and parked in the Westside Pavilion Mall's underground parking lot. I took the escalator up to the three-story Barnes & Noble and ordered a big coffee. I sat next to the windows that overlooked Pico and Westwood and watched the traffic roll by.

I was surrounded by students from UCLA. They were taking up almost all of the tables, sitting around with piles of books and their laptops. I was pretty impressed by all the effort they were making until I realized what was really going on. Most of the girls were all dolled up and the guys were checking them out every time they looked up from their work. This was like some sort of modern bar, a club where people flashed the goods—“look at me with my biology book. I could be a doctor someday. Shallst we get with the doing?” As I continued to watch these people, I could tell that they were used to seeing each other there all the time. When one of the guys would give up studying for the day, he'd usually walk over to a table of chicks and say something like “oh man, I think I need a break. You wanna get some air?” which I thought was weird. Where were they going to get air in L.A.? But there was always some chick who wanted to go. I realized I had been way wrong all my life, thinking that alcohol needed to be in the mix somewhere. These kids had replaced the booze with books and the results were just as good.

One kid near me was reading a book about writing screenplays. The author on the cover looked like a tough guy. His name was Syd. I was tempted to tell this kid that he was hanging out in the wrong coffee place, that he needed to go over to my usual hang out. But maybe over there was like the big leagues and this place was the pee-wee leagues. He'd have to hone his skills and find a good-luck charm before he could fit in over there.

At noon I went down the street to La Serenata. It didn't look like much from the outside, but inside it was nice and cozy. It was Helen's favorite restaurant. I got a table by the window so we'd be able to people watch, and I sat around waiting for her.

She arrived twenty minutes later. I knew she'd be late because there's never parking on Pico Boulevard at noon. She probably had to drive to the very bottom level of the Pavilion parking lot before she could find a spot. She walked through the doorway and looked over the whole room until she found me. She looked wonderfully simple, the kind of simple that only a woman making a lot of effort can come up with. She had on jeans and a sort of hippy-looking white shirt with a square collar and long sleeves. The material was so light that you could almost make out the color of her skin. When she stepped over I stood up, and she gave me a little hug and smiled.

“Hi Lon. Wow, you look nice!” she said.

“You too.” She had put on just enough perfume so that you could only smell it if you were very close. This was something I always appreciated about Helen. Most women have this all wrong. They put on four or five squirts of strong perfume, and it wafts all around the room, attacking the nostrils of people who they'll never even talk to. Helen put on only a light mist, so as you drew nearer for whatever reason, you got a little whiff of it, and that made you want to continue getting closer. It was like she was rewarding you for moving in the right direction.

Helen never needed to look at the menu at this place. She always wanted chicken sopes, which was cool because I got to pretend to be a classy guy who always knew what his date wanted and could order for her. But me, I never knew what I wanted, so I took the menu in my hands and looked over everything. I could tell that she was people watching, but after a while she looked over at me and examined my new look. When I finally chose what I wanted—empanadas—I set the menu down and saw her smiling.

“That must have really hurt, taking all that hair off,” she said and laughed.

“When I went to the place, I thought they were going to use scissors. Then they ambushed me with the wax before I knew what was going on.”

“It really looks good, though. It makes you look a lot thinner.”

“Actually, I've been losing weight. I haven't been meaning to, it's just that I've been really busy running around all over the place. But the worst thing, damn...I figured there's no one else I could tell but you. It was when they got me down there,” I said, pointing down.

“No!”

“Oh yeah. But you know, I love it. I got lots of room, and it's like I'm—” I started to say it was like I was several inches longer, but she cut me off.

“Lonnie, I think it's funny that you did that, but I'm not ready for that yet. It was really sweet that you made that much effort for today, but I want this to stay a lunch thing. We need to take it slow.”

“No, it's not like that—I understand. I didn't do this for you. I did this because I'm trying to get some photos of an old pervy chick in action. That's why I drive around the nice cars now. She's a complete freak. I found a gun under all the condoms in her glove compartment yesterday. I don't—”

Suddenly there was no one sitting in front of me. As the pain from the slap I had just received spread over my cheek, the memory of the event came back. With one lightning-fast twist, she had slapped me hard, got out of her chair, and run out the door. Everyone in the restaurant was looking at me like I was a slime bag. I left the restaurant and looked up and down Pico, but with all the people I couldn't tell what direction she had taken. I decided to search the Pavilion parking lot, starting from the bottom level. I took the escalators three floors down, looked everywhere, and then checked the other levels. I had missed her, if she had been there at all.

9

I got in the charger and drove over to Dennis' place. I was feeling horrible, and what I really wanted to do was drink myself unconscious. But I was going to have to talk to Gertie at some point, and if I got all sloshed and said something stupid, she'd probably stop taking me seriously.

When I entered the courtyard, I saw the big poodle chewing on an envelope. I was going to let him eat Dennis' mail when I saw that it was marked “Mr. Bates,” with no address written below. Someone had hand delivered it. I snatched it out of Ballsack's mouth, wiped the saliva on the grass and opened it up. It was a letter from “Mr. Stevens.”

Dear Mr. Bates, I would like to meet with you to discuss the case. I hope you have made progress. Meet me at the Apple Store on the Third Street Promenade tonight at 8 o'clock. Do not look for me. Wait in front of the most expensive laptop in the store. I'll find you and stand at the neighboring laptop. I will be wearing a disguise. Wait for me to talk to you. I'll arrive sometime before the store closes.

I was finally going to be able to hit Sharkburt up for some money. At the same time, I was going to warn him about that gun and make him give me a way to get in touch with him. I'd had enough of all this waiting.

My dad had a fresh block of chocolate out and was carving away. I ate lunch and watched him. It was amazing how much detail he was putting into it. He was sculpting some dude. He had a rough outline of the body done and had started working on the hair by the time I finished eating.

It had been a while since I had straightened up the living room, so I took out all the empty pizza boxes and to-go bags and swept the floor. I also washed the blankets my dad was using to sleep on the couch.

Then I realized that it had been stupid not to go straight to my place after the restaurant, since I could have caught up with Gertie. I decided to head over there and see if she had left Tommy a note for me.

I walked back with the big poodle so that he could get some exercise. When we made it to my street, I saw Gertie's yellow Eldorado parked in front of my house. Maybe I had gotten lucky and she had just arrived. Then a new addition to my yard gave me a shock: Gertie had already planted her real-estate sign. I suddenly felt like a conquered country under the reign of Gertitious the Terrible. I was going to take care of this pronto.

I walked in my front door, expecting to see her in my living room. She wasn't there, so I looked in my room, the bathroom, the kitchen, and then the back patio. She wasn't anywhere. She must have been off looking at the neighbors' houses, which would surely have something to do with the value of mine. No problem, I'd just wait for her to get back.

In the meantime, I walked over to Tommy's door. I didn't hear anything, so I turned the knob as slowly as I could. It was locked. Damn—he'd never locked his door before. He must have found the underwear and got upset. I was definitely going to have to do some serious explaining, and even then, I couldn't imagine him believing me. “Hey Tommy, I was going to sneeze, so I accidentally did it on some old-lady thong and was so surprised that I threw it on your bed.” No way was that going to fly. Tommy was a rock-'n-roll kind of guy, so I'd just have to tell him that some chick I brought home mistook his room for mine and got undressed in there before I realized it. That sounded stupid, too, but maybe it would sound better to someone who could only understand every fourth or fifth word.

I sat down on the couch and turned on the tube, occasionally glancing out the window to look for Gertie. Then I heard Tommy's door opening, so I got ready to do my groveling.

“Tommy, I'm really sorry,” I said as I stood up and turned around. Not in a million years would I have imagined that I would one day see such a sight. It was Gertie, coming out of Tommy's room, wearing only his white Ratt T-shirt. Through the doorway I could see Tommy asleep in his bed. Gertie made a beeline over to the kitchen, and as she walked, her unsupported boobs swung in circles, crashing together as they arrived at the center. As she entered the kitchen, I got the view from behind. The shirt didn't cover the bottom of her butt cheeks, so I was able to make out the tattoo I had noticed at the open house. It was a tattoo of an owl with its wings spread open and its talons forward, as if it were about to grab a defenseless little critter.