by C. S. Starr
It was about noon when the pilots Connor sent arrived, touching down not far from the Campbell house. Andrew brought Rosa to the plane and she boarded immediately. Tal thought about what it would seem like if he asked them to wait for Lucy, so he could say goodbye, but he opted not to in the hopes that his interest in her wouldn’t be too obvious and something that could be spun and used against him.
It turned out, Tal didn’t need to over-think it.
She stomped up, boots covered in mud, and gave him the most genuine smile he’d ever seen just as they started the engine. “I’ll be in touch, and you be in touch too,” she shouted over the airplane motor. “Call me!”
“I will,” Tal shouted in return. “Thanks. For everything.”
Lucy nodded and they both let out a heavy sigh. “You too.”
They stood there, and Tal thought of all the things he could possibly say that might have changed their situation. All the seemingly simple words from every romantic comedy he’d seen, all the lines from classic literature. Nothing fit in that moment. No words that summed up the beginnings of a real affection deeper than anything he’d experienced before. Nothing that said that, in the long run, it didn’t matter if she felt the same, it was just enough for her to know that he did.
Instead of risking it by opening his mouth and blurting out the wrong thing, he simply pulled her into his arms and squeezed her tight, hopeful that his unspoken thoughts might pass through their clothes, and skin, and all that other stuff that got in the way, and eventually hit her heart.
“If you need anything...” she shouted as she squeezed him back just as hard. “Ask.”
Tal nodded against her shoulder, unable to fight the smile on his face at her firm embrace. “You too.”
Chapter 18
September 2002
Los Angeles, West
Rika Minami grew up in Silicon Valley, far away from the glitz and glamour of Hollywood. Her parents had worked hard to ensure that she was successful and always sat squarely at the top of her class. She’d taken violin lessons, and riding lessons, and gone to math camp every summer since she was five.
None of that mattered, she decided, as she straddled a geeky kid’s lap, in an old tattoo parlor in Long Beach. All that mattered in that moment was that she really, really wanted a tongue ring and he swore he knew how to do it.
“You know those get infected,” a voice that was most certainly attached to a smirk said. Rika turned around to see a big Mexican kid, probably her age, in a wife-beater and a pair of too-big jeans, leaning in the doorframe. “My cousin got him to do one and she almost lost her tongue.”
“Fuck off, Juan,” her would-be piercer said. “Lupe was fine.”
Rika’s mouth snapped shut and she climbed off the kid’s lap, much to his disappointment since there was no way he’d get his twenty bucks.
Rika had been high for days on weed and pills, wandering with a few of her friends, waiting for something interesting to happen, and the boy in the door, he seemed almost heaven-sent.
That is, if she’d believed in any of that shit.
“Who are you?” she asked the stranger curiously, looking him square in the eye.
“You don’t belong here,” he said firmly, walking up to her. He was tall, with the beginning of adult muscles and a dirt moustache so absurd that it made Rika smile. “You look like you belong at science camp.”
“Math camp,” she corrected, pushing up her glasses. “I used to go to math camp.”
“Come with me,” he said, a grin forming on his serious face as the skinny girl sized him up. “You look like you could use a sandwich.”
Rika decided that it wasn’t likely Juan Vargas played the hero often, but that day he felt like one to her. They sat down on the beach and he vanished for a minute, returning with two tortas a distant cousin of his had sold him out of a stand on the beach. She beamed when he offered her one.
“This is amazing,” she said through a mouthful of food. “LA isn’t so bad. Better than San Francisco.”
“It’s a mess,” Juan muttered, looking her up and down. “Everyone’s still poor, even though there’s like a tenth the people there were a year ago. Everyone’s getting shot, and fighting.”
“But you’ve got the movies.”
Juan raised his eyebrows. “I work for Connor Wilde.”
“Really? I used to have a thing for him,” she admitted, shaking her head. “When he was in that kid spy movie.”
“And now?”
She shook her head. “He’s so short. I guess he’s doing all right with all the movies he’s making?”
“He’s practically king of the world,” Juan chuckled. “Or you’d think so anyway.”
“What do you do?”
“I drive him around. Act as muscle. That type of shit. I’m learning to fly a plane.” He spread his arms out. “It’s a fucking rush.”
“Cool,” she said, genuinely interested, especially because she couldn’t imagine this kid being friends with Connor Wilde. In her normal straightforward fashion, she asked him, “How do you know Connor Wilde?”
“My mom was his nanny. I’ve known him all my life.”
They ate their sandwiches and stared out over the ocean.
“I’ve been dropping acid every night for a week,” the small girl mumbled, pulling her knees into her chest. “Nothing’s been as nice as this.”
Juan tisked at her, dropping back in the sand. “That stuff will cook your brain.”
She shook her head. “The side effects aren’t long-term.”
“It looks like you’ve been forgetting to eat,” he shrugged. “Where do you stay?”
“We found an abandoned beach house not far from here. We’re from San Fran.”
“You going back?”
She lay back in the sand and closed her eyes. “Not sure. There’s not much there for me anymore. I don’t have any family. I was an only child. My parent’s house is nice, but—”
“It doesn’t feel like home without them.”
She nodded. “And when I think back, I’m not sure it ever did. Not like that movie idea of home. It was hard sometimes, being their kid.”
“My mom just wanted me to steer clear of gangs. We were illegals. No math camp for me.” He flopped back in the sand beside her. “I’ve got this house in the Hills. It’s where Stallone used to live before he made it huge. You want to come see? I moved in like a month ago.”
She rolled onto her side and cocked her head at him. “Just to hang?”
“Yeah,” he said, giving her a half grin. “I’ve got lots of movies, and like, seven bedrooms.”
She thought about it for a few minutes, before her mouth turned up into a broad smile.
“Do you know how to make those sandwiches? Can you make me another one?”
October 2012
Los Angeles, West
Connor and Leah were parked in his father’s Bentley at the LAX airstrip when Tal landed. He could see them from the sky, at first a tiny dot, and then bigger and more real. Tal had never imagined feeling so out of sorts about being at home. He’d known he needed a break before he left, but he hadn’t realized that he needed more than that. He needed a change.
“Oh, Tal,” Leah squeaked, wrapping her arms around him as he climbed down the stairs. “It’s so fucking good to see you.”
“We thought you were dead,” Connor said, a grin on his face. “We heard that. From Campbell.”
Tal shook his head. “I don’t think they really knew—“
“Well, we heard Juan was dead, and you were gone, so we assumed, because what else would you assume?” He leaned in for an awkward man hug when Leah was finished. “Good to have you back.”
“Thanks,” Tal nodded, forcing a smile. “It’s good to be back. I’m just...” he exhaled loudly, catching an uncomfortable glance between Leah and Connor. “It’s been a long week.”
“We’ll get you home, man,” Connor said, with what was likely supposed to be a comforti
ng pat on the back. “We don’t have to talk about anything today.”
“Anything what?” Tal searched Connor and Leah’s face and found them guarded. Two brick walls. He’d never seen them with an even similar expression before, and he felt his gut sink.
Connor shook his head. “Just some problems in Old Nevada. You know. The usual. I’m working through it.”
“What does that mean?” Tal asked, as they piled into the Bentley. Vegas was a huge source of revenue for them. “How are you working through it?”
“We’ve been negotiating this week. It’ll be fine. I’ll fill you in when you’ve rested.”
Leah shook her head, glancing at Connor. “You can talk about it more later, if you want. Let’s just…I want to get home. You look like shit, Tal.”
Connor didn’t really negotiate, and his tone confirmed that. That, combined with the look he and Leah had exchanged, caused Tal’s stomach to knot further. He didn’t say much on the drive home, and when they dropped Rosa off at her house and then drove the rest of the way to theirs, Tal knew they were in for a long night.
Connor lingered in the useless way that normally bothered Leah, not Tal, but that evening, they were both on edge with his presence. Tal knew his reasons, but Leah’s were a mystery, and he dreaded hearing them because his mind had already made up a series of possibilities, none of which would make the situation any better. If Connor had hurt his cousin, Tal would kill him. He knew he was capable now. His best friend asked a series of very concerned questions about Tal’s ordeal, and expressed remorse over Juan, but there was something chillingly superficial about his behavior and tone that drew Tal back to his brief conversation with Andrew Campbell the night before.
He finally left around ten, citing Rosa’s desperation for some Wilde as the reason for his departure. Surprisingly, when he left, Leah, her eyes heavy, didn’t have much to say.
“I’m…I’m beat, Tal. I think I’m going to call it a night.” She smiled wearily. “It’s great that you’re back. I…I didn’t know what—”
“What happened, Leah?”
She looked at him like a deer in the headlights. “I’m not sure what—”
“What happened?” he asked firmly. “Because something—“
“He’s just…Connor,” she sighed, her brow tight. “You knew things weren’t good when you left. I guess…I just…I didn’t know how bad they were.”
Tal sat down on the couch and nodded for his cousin to join him “Go on?”
“Just the stuff with Vegas. I…I haven’t wanted to know for a while, and now I do, and it sucks.” She tucked her feet up under her and stared at him for a long minute. “You’re really okay?”
Tal thought about that for a minute. “I’ll be okay. There’s a lot happening out there, Leah.”
Her eyes went wide. “Bad stuff, in the Midwest? You were in the Midwest?”
While different, Tal wasn’t sure anything past his initial kidnapping would qualify as bad. “Not bad. Just not the same as here. Yeah. The Midwest.”
Leah nodded, her eyes troubled. “So, I’m going to go to bed. Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Tal said, with a nod. “See you in the morning?”
“I’ll make us breakfast.” She exhaled, relieved. “It’s…good to have you back. So good.”
Tal was relieved, but surprised that there was no mention of their sleeping arrangement in her statement as she trudged up the stairs and closed the door to her room. He hated that Lucy was right, as he was already having second thoughts about if he would be able to enact change in any major way. It was easy to say one was going to act, to go full gusto into an idea, but actually coming up with the plan was something he struggled with over the few days that followed his return.
The box with Juan’s ashes taunted him from his dresser and reminded him that he needed to act. Juan would have been on his side. Tal knew that in his gut.
He spent the next week attempting to digest the half-truths he was fed by Connor while he tried to come up with a plan of action. He seemed delighted to have Tal back and peppered him with questions about Campbell and how they’d work together. He emphasized how grateful he was to Tal and how sorry he was about what had happened, but it all seemed like lip service. Bits of the Vegas problem trickled down to Tal more and more over the days that followed, and it was a doozy.
Nevada had separated, and cut off all contact with West. The border between Nevada and Old California had turned into a militarized zone, with Connor refusing to back down. Vegas kids were rich, stubborn, spoiled, and were probably the most equal adversary he’d ever face. For years, they’d had an uncertain truce with Vegas, born of little more than extravagant partying. Tal wasn’t sure what had necessitated the breakdown. No one was saying. Even Leah avoided any mention of it, in favour of talking about her garden, or anything but anything having to do with politics.
After a week, Tal decided to stop obsessing about the situation with Nevada and do something he’d been putting off that he could actually resolve. He knew very little about Juan’s family; only that he’d had two children with a girl, the first when he was fourteen and the second five years later. He’d never met them, and Juan rarely mentioned them when he was at work so Tal couldn’t remember any of their names, except that of his girl. Rika. He’d always been very private, and Tal was much the same, so he’d never questioned him on any of it.
Juan lived in The Hills too, in a house he’d absconded early on from an action star he’d once admired. Tal had dropped him off after work numerous times. It wasn’t the biggest house, but it was nice from the outside, the yard well-maintained with two nice cars in the yard.
Tal parked in the driveway and, box in hand, he knocked on the door.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” A voice from inside called, and he assumed it belonged to Rika. “I’m just…just a minute!”
It was about five minutes later, by Tal’s estimation, when the door finally creaked open and a frazzled woman in a yellow bath robe with a tiny girl clutching her leg tightly, whipped it open, her hair on the top of her head in a towel. Tal found himself surprised by the face he was met with. He’d always assumed Rika was Mexican for some reason, not Asian, and that Rika was short form for Erika or something. She was pretty, with long dark hair and huge expressive eyes that scanned him thoroughly.
“You’re Rika?”
“Yeah? Maybe?” she replied curiously, her words revealing the glint of a tongue ring. “Who’s asking?”
Tal shook his head, remembering himself and that they’d never met. “Sorry. I’m Tal Bauman. I worked with Juan. I…” He looked down at the box in his hands. “Do you mind if I come in?”
“Oh. You’re…” She nodded. “You work together. I’ve heard about you. The money guy. Of course. Come in. He’s not here. He’s on some secret mission in Old Canada or something.”
She didn’t know. No one had told her. He felt like he was going to be sick as she lead him inside and nodded for him to sit on the couch. “Rika—”
“Let me get dressed and get the kids settled. Just a minute,” she insisted, grabbing the small girl and throwing her effortlessly over her shoulder. She returned a few minutes later dressed in a pair of ratty jeans and a crisp white t-shirt. “So, you work with Juan. When’s he...” she trailed off as she caught his expression and realized what was in the box on his lap. “No. That’s not…” she trailed off again. “No.”
He thought of all the death and destruction he’d seen in the previous ten years, all that he’d survived, and decided that telling her was probably the shittiest thing he’d ever had to do, which said a lot, considering the week he’d had. She looked at him for an explanation.
“We were in Campbell and I was kidnapped, along with the leader of that area.”
“The girl. Lucy Campbell.” She let out a long breath. “The socialist.”
Tal nodded. “And Juan was killed when they took me.”
A haggard sob esc
aped her throat, and she covered her face with her hands.
“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”
For the first time in a very long time, Tal felt his eyes well up as he realized that he’d wasted the time he’d known Juan. He’d made little effort to get to know him, and now he never would. As it stood, he’d died a meaningless death, and here, he had people that cared about him. Maybe more than anyone would ever care about Tal.
“I thought someone already told you. Someone should have told you.”
“Who?” she sobbed. “Connor? Do you have any idea how many times Connor has eaten with our family and he didn’t even have the balls to come over here and tell me that Juan was…” She squeezed her face tight and grimaced. “That Juan was dead, and it was him who’d sent him to his death?”
Tal set the box on the coffee table and he did what he hoped was the right response. He hugged Rika, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He felt like he was suffocating in her sadness as they stood there, swaying, both of them affected. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I wish you could know how sorry I was—”
“How the fuck am I going to tell his girls? How the fuck do you do that?” she sobbed. “It’s been us, since I was twelve.”
“If you need anything…” He exhaled. “I wish—”
“None of us have time for survivor’s guilt. Haven’t we all been through enough of that?” she choked, stiffening up. She stood and escorted him to the door quickly, clearly in need of a few minutes. “Thanks…for coming. For having the balls to tell me.”
“I’ll come check on you again in a few days,” he whispered, cognizant that she didn’t want him to see her cry. “When you’ve had some time.”
When he got home, Leah was curled up on their couch in the fetal position in a pair of ratty sweatpants and a faded black tank top. She barely looked up when Tal knelt in front of her.
“Why didn’t anyone tell Juan’s girl that he’d died?”
“Connor said he’d done it,” she mumbled. “I don’t know her.”