The Interview (23 page)

“How did you get my signature?”

“Alex is a very talented lady.”

“I thought she was a notary.”

“Among other things. Moving on. If at any time you would like
to liquidate the investments just let me know and I will take care of
it. I don't advise it, however. They're good investments and you will
take a killing on the taxes.”

“Noted.”

“That's it for the money. Is there anything else?”

“What exactly is your job?” I had hoped to catch her off
guard but she fielded it like Caitlin Lowe running down a fly ball.

“I already told you. I run the financial division of The Talon
Group.”

“And that is Tristan’s company?”

“Yes.”

“And it does what exactly?”

“The Talon Group is a property management company. We have a
number of commercial and residential properties throughout Southern
California. We also do consulting.”

“Consulting? Now, how does that work exactly?”

“We consult with businesses and individuals.”

“Very vague.”

“Purposefully.”

“What's with the girls?”

“The half-naked minxes running down the street?”

“Exactly.”

“Secretarial pool.”

“Of course they are. Don't take this the wrong way.”

“Wouldn't think of it.”

“Does the secretarial pool do jobs on their backs?”

“No. They are clerical staff. Paid interns if you will. They
are also college students. There are no sexual requirements related
to that position. Did I take it the right way?”

“Yes. Sorry. Had to ask.”

“Not a problem.”

“Now how would a woman get a job in this pool?”

“There are strict eligibility requirements,” she said
simply.

“Such as?”

“I'm not at liberty to discuss that.”

“Can I give you a hypothetical?” So I stole it from
Bradford. Sue me.

“Sure.” Ashley was cool. All sexy and businessey and
helpful.

I gave her the short version of Kristin Turin.

“Well, hypothetically, Tristan makes all the hiring decisions
for that specific area. But, Tristan also made it clear to me that I
should assist you in whatever way you required. So, hypothetically, I
think this woman would qualify.”

“Excellent. That's what I'm talking about, Ashley. You are a
rock star!” I pointed to her because it felt cool. She pointed
back at me and said, “No, you're the rock star!”

“We agree. We both rock. Now what does she need to do?”

“Hypothetically?”

“I think we can assume she's not hypothetical.”

“Perfect.” She plucked a business card from the corner
of the desk and handed it across to me. “Have her call me and
I'll see to it that she's taken care of.”

“That's it?”

“That's it.”

“Thank you. You were right. You were very helpful.”

“My pleasure, Kelly.”

THE NEXT PART OF MY plan involved the beach, my book, and not much
else. I took a right on Alta Vista. I was almost to Rose when the red
and blue lights began flashing in my rear-view mirror.

Great. Some cops don't like my Cougar because it's loud and more
often than not, they think they're pulling over some teenaged kid. I
pulled over and watched Officer Bradford get out of the patrol car.

Nice.

“Morning, Mr. Jenks,” she said casually.

“Morning, Officer Bradford. What can I do for you?”

“License, insurance, and registration would be a start.”

“And here I thought we had moved past this stage of our
relationship.” I rolled my eyes and reached into the glovebox.
I handed over the papers along with my license. “Did you get my
message?”

“Yes, thank you. Nice car.”

“You like?”

“I do. I love old muscle cars.”

“This one's magic.”

“Do tell.”

“Dinner?”

“No.”

“Guess I can't tell then. Too bad. It's a great story.”

She handed back my stuff, patted the roof, and said, “I'm
watching you, Mr. Jenks.”

“And I feel safer knowing that, Officer.”

“Have a good day.”

“You, too.”

I watched her walk back to the car. She really did have a nice walk.
She pulled out and flipped a bitch in the middle of street.

Huh.

THE PARKING GODS WERE GOOD to me. I parked, grabbed my stuff and
walked down to the water. My goal for the afternoon was to not get in
a fight. I picked a patch of sand that looked safe, plopped my ass
down and read for four hours. There were a couple families playing on
the beach around me. Catalina was visible. Airplanes flew by with
signs trailing behind them. Helicopters skimmed the water. A troop of
Junior Lifeguards ran by. The dolphins made an appearance. Joggers
ran down the beach. Every so often I jumped in the ocean to cool
down, then reapplied sunscreen so I didn't look like a burnt tomato
for Frankie. I finished up
Dark
Hollow
right around three. I packed up and walked back to the car. All in
all, a perfect afternoon. For one of the rare times that week, I
actually felt normal.

I parked in the short-term parking lot at John Wayne Airport. I
missed the days when you could actually meet the arriving passengers
at the gate. Of all the tragedies left behind in the wake of 9/11,
that was the most disturbing to me. I had a half hour to kill, so I
found a payphone and called Casey.

“Hello.”

“Hey, it's Kelly.”

“What's the haps?”

“The haps?”

“Trying to sound hip.”

“And you succeeded. I'm chilling at the airport.”

“Ah, Frankie's coming to town. Congratulations.”

“Yeah, blah blah. I've got a line on a job for Kristin.”

“That was fast. How'd you do that?”

“I channeled my inner Magnum.”

“Nice. I didn't know you could do that. You're amazing.”

“I know.” I read the number off the card Ashley had
given me. “Ask for Ashley. She'll take care of her.”

“Kind of crazy.”

“I know. It is. You guys good?”

“Fabulous,” she said with a bad pompous accent. “Hey,
switch days off with me. Your Monday for my Tuesday?”

“Sure. You call the office though and let ‘em know.”

“Got it covered.”

“K. Stay mellow.”

“You, too. Have fun with your girl.”

“I intend to. Late.”

I hung up, meandered over to the base of the escalator that Frankie
would come down, and leaned against the wall. I should have felt
excited. Or happy. Or something, but I was just there. It is a
product of my condition that moments like these are entirely boring.
A group of passengers rode down the escalator. I watched a couple
reunite. Two children went running into their father's arms with
smiles and squeals. I smiled because that was what a normal person
would do. They dispersed and then I watched Frankie glide down the
escalator.

She is 5'5” with straight brown hair. She had been spending a
lot of time in the sun or had lightened her hair since I had last
seen her. Either way, it looked good. Her brown eyes found me. A
smile that melted me physically appeared on her face. Her teeth were
artificially whitened, and they blazed in contrast with her tan face.
She is the most beautiful woman in the world as far as I'm concerned.

She wore white shorts, a light blue t-shirt, and flip-flops. A
backpack was slung over her shoulder. I watched her walk towards me
and I plastered a look of joy on my face as she stopped in front of
me.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi, yourself.”

“You look good.”

“So do you.”

“I missed you.”

“Back at you.”

“You seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“Good, then take me to our hotel and make love to me.”

“Definitely.”

We never touch in public. To the casual observer we're friends,
nothing more. The world is a very small place, and one never knew who
might see us. It was one of those unspoken rules that we had. That
rule no longer applied the moment we walked through the door of our
Best Western room.

AN HOUR LATER WE ORDERED Chinese food. We sat in bed naked and ate.

“I've had a crazy week,” I said around a mouthful of
Mandarin Beef.

“Tell me.”

So I did. I only left out the part about flying up North on Sunday. I
told her about Mr. Bat asking me to check in on someone, I just
didn't mention that the someone was in Frankie's neck of the woods. A
man has to have a few secrets, and for some reason this seemed like
one I needed to keep.

“Kim's kiss was a good one, huh?”

“Of course that's what you focus on. Not the guy in the masks,
or the guy with the big dick. You focus on the girl I kissed.”

“Naturally.”

“Yeah, it was a good one. You haven't been down in three
months. I was a bit on the horny side.”

“But you didn't sleep with her?”

“Slept next to her. Nothing else. Does that bother you?”
It interested me because she was after all, married with children.

“Little bit.”

“Why?”

She placed her plate on the nightstand and rolled on top of me. Her
breasts hung down invitingly so I took a nibble, then looked in her
eyes.

“You're mine. That's why it bothers me.”

Then she started doing stuff and I forgot what we were talking about.

“What's the cop's angle?” she asked as we showered.

I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair. “Not sure. Are the
women involved in this the only thing you're curious about?”

“Prioritizing.”

“And what are you doing with your hand?”

“Just playing.”

“Don't hurt your wrist. I'm not sure what her angle is.”

“Convenient that she pulled you over today as you were leaving
Tristan's.”

“Why's that?”

“Serious?”

“Yeah. I'm new at this. Help me out.”

“Well, it might be that she was following you.”

“Nah. I would have noticed. Cop cars aren't exactly
inconspicuous.”

“OK. Maybe she was watching Tristan's place.”

“That makes sense. Then she just picked me up as I was leaving
just to let me know that she's around.”

“Yes. And maybe she thinks you could be an in.”

“That's really distracting.”

“I'm just playing.”

“I know but it's making it hard to think.”

“All the blood leave your brain?”

“Something like that. So an in?”

“Exactly. She's a patrol officer right?” I nodded,
groaned, and looked up at the ceiling. “Patrol officers don't
generally do stakeouts by themselves. So maybe she's freelancing, and
sees you as a way to learn more about what Tristan's doing.”

Didn't care anymore.

“You seem distracted.”

“Little bit.”

“Did you want me to stop talking?”

“Little bit.”

“But what to do with my mouth?”

HART PARK IS LOCATED JUST off the 22 in Orange. I exited the freeway,
turned right, then an immediate right that drops down into a cemented
river bed that doubles as a parking lot for most of the year. The
occasional rain storm will wake up the trickle of water and turn it
into an actual river. The parking lot gets closed for a few hours,
then the water drains out, and life returns to normal.

“I'm excited to play,” she said as I parked.

“I'm excited to watch you play.”

“I feel bad I'm taking your spot.”

“No you don't.”

She leaned across the seat and kissed me, then smiled. “You're
right. I don't.”

We walked up the ramp to the fields. Most of my team was already
there. No one said hi to me because they were too busy hugging
Frankie. I shuffled over to the score table and picked up the lineup
card, paid my twenty, then found a spot on the bleachers and did the
manager thing. I filled in all the names of my players, then walked
around and got everyone to sign their names. I left my name off the
lineup. I don't like making people sit, especially my girls. They get
irritable if I start playing around with their spots. Normally we
have five guys and five girls. Tonight we would be going with four
guys and six girls. The guys would get to bat more. The girls would
feel superior. And everyone would be happy.

I turned in the card. Fred ambled over.

“Want to throw?”

“Not playing.”

“I know. I still want to warm up. Try to throw hard like
Frankie, OK?”

“Whatever.”

“How'd that all work out yesterday?”

I waited till he was a good ten yards away then lobbed him the ball.
“Cool. Casey's got her all tucked away. You talk to the cop?”

“Yeah. She looked like Mendoza.”

“Totally. Got that confident I'm a badass thing going on.”

“Got that right. You should ask her to play.”

“Nah, we got enough cranky bitches on this team already.”

“Yeah, you can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Don't I know it.” I caught his throw, shifted my feet
and fired a strike into his glove. “Thanks for yesterday by the
way.”

“No worries. You gotta throw harder. Frankie takes off my
glove.” He returned the ball. I fired. “Come on, man. Be
a man about it.”

“I got no legs right now. Sorry.” I tried again. His
glove popped satisfyingly.

“Too much sex is not an excuse for throwing like a baby.”

“Fuck it. I'm going to smoke.”

He waved me away and yelled, “Frankie, warm me up. The
mailman's tired.”

“I kicked his ass today,” she replied.

“Yeah, it's a good thing he's not playing tonight.”

Sheesh. I lit my smoke and ignored them. My team knows nothing about
Frankie's other life. Her real life. They only know that she pops up
every once in awhile and plays ball. They don't know her, but they
love her like she's a part of our
Broken
Things
family. She slips in and slips out with ease. Her whole existence
here is a lie, and it doesn't bother her at all. I've wondered what
my team would think of her if they knew the truth. And what they
would think of me.