I turned right onto Union Street and drove up toward Telegraph Hill. Coit Tower loomed ahead. San Francisco’s more straightlaced residents claimed the monument had been designed to resemble a firehose nozzle. But those in the know revealed it was really modeled after a prominent part of the male anatomy. What’s more, the money for its construction had been donated by a notorious female cross-dresser.
I swung into the driveway of a three-story white stucco house that clung to the hill like one in a row of gumdrops. Kicking open the vehicle door, I rolled out, having already adjusted to spending half of my life on a slant.
This was where I now lived—though you’d never have guessed it by the reception. My landlady’s white dog lay in its usual spot near the front door, lounging in a sheepskin-lined wicker basket. The pooch’s attitude was that of a pissed-off old man jealously guarding his territory.
The only way to tell the mutt from the rug was when he snarled, revealing a set of misshapen yellow teeth. The runt was a nasty bundle of terror with rheumy eyes, thinning fur, and breath like rotten meat.
I never had to ask if he wanted a piece of me. The game was always the same. The wizened maniac waited until the very last second, and then made a lunge for my leg. Evidently that supplied him with a large-enough dose of testosterone to keep his little heart going pitter-patter.
The mutt’s behavior reminded me of an old Italian godfather. The pooch shrewdly maintained his status by acting as if he were a vicious rottweiler. It was for that reason I found the dog’s name—Tony Baloney—to be both clever and fitting.
I scooted around the pooch and let myself in the front door. Then I squeezed past the five-foot potted palm that stood in the middle of the floor. The hall led directly to the rear of the house, causing my Chinese landlady to fear all the good chi inside would escape out the back door. The palm was her own homemade version of a chi barrier in what amounted to an obstacle course.
I hit the staircase and began my ascent up to the second floor.
“You get a reward when you reach the top.”
Terri Tune, my longtime best friend and former landlord, leaned over the balustrade looking as fetching as ever. His blond wig hadn’t aged one bit. Neither had his figure, which was still lean and fit. He wore a red kimono, ostrich feather mules, and lured me on with a piña colada topped with a colorful paper parasol.
“Here you go, sweetie. You deserve this after having worked on Saturday. Besides, I heard you took quite a beating in class this morning.”
“True. But I gave it back twice as good.” I grinned, and reached for the glass.
“That’s my girl. Why bother to work out unless you can get to kick a little ass every now and then? Anyway, the exercise is obviously paying off. You look terrific,” Terri praised like a mother hen. “Now hurry inside. Jake’s already polished off his first piña colada and is beginning to scarf down all the hors d’oeuvres.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. “I thought we’d discussed this, Terri. You know that I don’t want Jake to drink while he’s taking so many painkillers.”
Terri shook his curls and clucked his tongue. “If you want to go in there and lay down the law, be my guest. But you’ve got to remember that he’s a big boy, Rach. Maybe you should give him some leeway, what with everything he’s been through. After all, it’s not as though he has a death wish. Correct me if I’m wrong, but we haven’t had to rush to the hospital yet and get his stomach pumped. So why don’t you try loosening up a bit?”
That was easier said than done. Still, I’d met with enough resistance on Santou’s part to know that I was in for an uphill battle.
“Just try to keep an eye on him, all right? Believe me, Jake’s not as happy-go-lucky as he pretends to be.”
I hated playing the role of enforcer after Terri had flown all the way from Memphis to help me. Santou’s recuperation had been slow so far, and he still wasn’t out of the woods. Not when he kept popping Vicodan and Percoset as though they were Flintstones Vitamins.
The only thing making me feel less guilty was that Terri had claimed to need a change of pace. Vincent, his significant other, was crazy busy after opening a branch of his wrestling school in Miami. But the real kicker was that Terri’s own business, Yarmulke Schlemmer, was in deep trouble. The company had been hit with a lawsuit, accused of stealing designs for their doggy yarmulkes.
Terri had a network of friends in San Francisco. However, he’d chosen to pay a weekly rate for the apartment directly above mine. It was dirt cheap in a city of exorbitant rents. There was a good reason for it. The place had no kitchen. As a result, Terri spent the majority of his time downstairs. It worked out well for the both of us. Not only did he help me with Santou, but my space was cleaner than it would have been otherwise. He also made sure there was always plenty of food in the fridge.
“Hey, chère. How’d it go today?” Santou asked, flashing a carefree smile as I walked into the room.
His vials of Vicodan and Percoset sat on the TV stand beside an empty glass. No wonder he was so relaxed. Jake caught the direction of my stare and scowled, letting me know how he felt about my reaction.
Santou had taken refuge in prescription drugs ever since the accident. At first it had been for physical pain. Now it was a crutch for emotional trauma.
Jake had insisted on getting back to work as soon as possible, anxious to feel normal again. What he hadn’t counted on was being stuck behind a desk doing paperwork. I could always tell when his patience had reached its breaking point; he’d consume more pills and booze than usual. That’s when he’d remind me of Tony Baloney. Santou would bark in frustration and Terri and I would jump, trying to find a way to help. Sympathetic as we were, his problems needed to be dealt with professionally. Though I’d broached the subject, Santou had so far stubbornly resisted.
“It was your average day. I caught some guy poaching butterflies on San Bruno Mountain and decided to flip him into an informant. I figure it’ll prove more worthwhile than writing him up on a violation that will probably get thrown out of court.”
I began to walk past Santou when he grabbed hold of my hand.
“You do know the upside to all this is, don’t you? At least I got transferred to San Francisco so that we can be together.”
There it was—the reason why I loved the man so much.
Jake turned my hand over and pressed his lips to my palm, sending a wave of heat rushing through me. Unbelievable. The man could still make my legs go weak at any given moment. Santou knew it as well and flashed a lascivious smile, basking in his effect on me.
“Dinner is served, children. Come and get it,” Terri called out, breaking the spell.
Terri’s version of cooking was a lot like mine. Tonight we had chicken scallopine takeout.
“Seriously, chère. I want to hear more about what happened this afternoon,” Jake said, as we sat down and began to eat.
The chicken was terrific. Boy, was Santou in for a rude awakening the day that I finally started cooking for him.
“The call that came in this morning? It was from a Stanford University professor. He not only tipped me off about a butterfly poacher, but also mentioned that one of his colleagues is missing.”
“What do you mean, missing?” Santou asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Some guy by the name of Dr. John Harmon went up to Mendocino about two weeks ago on assignment for Fish and Wildlife. He’d been hired to search for an endangered butterfly. That’s the last anyone has heard from him.”
“There could be any number of reasons for that. Maybe he has money problems and decided to lay low for a while,” Jake speculated. “Does he happen to be married?”
I nodded, remembering the information I’d been given.
“Possibly he’s spending time with another woman and doesn’t want his wife to know.”
“Or it could be another man,” Terri interjected.
“If something were wrong, I’m sure the county sheriff would know about it,
” Jake added.
“Great. Now you sound just like my boss.”
“Heaven forbid. We wouldn’t want that, what with the way you feel about him,” Santou said with a laugh. “Tell you what. I’ll keep my ear to the ground and let you know if any information comes through the office.”
“Fair enough. In the meantime, I thought I’d take a ride up to Mendocino tomorrow. Anyone interested in coming along?”
“Hell, that’s a three-hour drive each way, chère. You know my back will never make it.”
I was tempted to snipe that if he went to a physical therapist and cut out the pills and booze, it would help speed up his recovery. However, I kept my mouth shut, having been through that argument only last night.
“I’ll go with you, Rach,” Terri offered. “I might as well see what the northern coastline looks like.”
“Terrific,” I said.
That would give me quality time with Terri, while Jake found out how much fun it was to spend an entire day alone. It might prove to be the wake-up call that he needed. Only when he dropped the I-can-tackle-this-problem-on-my-own attitude, and got some serious help, would his condition ever improve.
Just the possibility made me feel good enough to eagerly jump up and begin my usual slap-dash job of washing dishes. I figured why slave over such things? They were only going to get dirty again, anyway.
Terri picked up one of the plates I’d just washed and gave it the once-over.
“Sparkling clean as usual,” he wryly noted, and began to scrub it himself. “Remind me to buy my own set of silverware and dishes so that at least one of us doesn’t come down with a mysterious ailment that’s traced back to eating off dirty dinnerware.”
I remembered Ma Aikens’s kitchen and had to agree that Terri probably had a point.
“Now I’m going upstairs to make myself absolutely gorgeous.”
Terri already looked good enough to make me feel like who-dragged-that-inside roadkill.
“Why? Are you going out with friends tonight?” I asked, feeling slightly envious.
“As a matter of fact, I’ve decided to get a part-time job at one of the trendy transvestite clubs downtown. I can use a little extra spending money, what with that damn lawsuit pending. Besides, getting out will help spruce up my social life.”
That was enough to set off a series of alarm bells in my head. I hadn’t realized Terri planned on staying in San Francisco for quite so long. Not only that, but he already had a circle of friends in the area. Unless there was something going on with Vincent that he hadn’t told me about.
Terri quickly picked up on my line of thought.
“Vincent and I had a little tiff on the phone last night. Let him see what life is like without me for a while.” He sniffed. “You know how men can be, constantly taking you for granted. Well, I’ve decided it’s time to rock his boat a bit.”
I couldn’t help but feel dumbfounded. Terri had never let on that something might be wrong. Was I so wrapped up with my own problems that I could no longer tell when my best friend was going through a crisis? Talk about feeling remorse. If I were Catholic, I’d have won hands-down as the patron saint of guilt.
“Just don’t go getting any ideas about teaching me a lesson, chère,” Santou teased. “My boat’s already been rocked quite enough. I’d hate to have to go through another plane crash and crawl back out in order to prove how much I love you.”
“Very funny,” I retorted, still not used to Jake’s newly morbid sense of humor.
“Listen, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t the two of you join me? You could probably both use an evening on the town,” Terri suggested.
“Count me out. All I want to do is watch TV and get a good night’s sleep. But why don’t you go with him, chère? It would be good for you to blow off some steam. Don’t worry. I’ll be perfectly fine by myself.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, ready to kill myself if I spent one more night planted in front of the Sports Channel.
“Absolutely.” Jake chuckled. “Anything that’ll keep us from duking it out over the remote control.”
Ah, domestic bliss. Who’d have ever guessed it would come down to TV programming and bickering over who should have bought an extra roll of toilet paper?
“In that case, I’ll see you in an hour, Rach. Get yourself ready,” Terri said, and headed upstairs.
Terrific. I was being left on my own to perform a minor miracle. I walked into the bathroom and studied my image in the mirror. Who was I kidding? We were talking a major overhaul here. The weather had turned my hair into a mop of thick frizz, and I felt as though there were caterpillars crawling on my skin. That led to a flashback of the parasitic wasps, causing a shiver to race through me. From there it was an easy leap to the movie Alien. I tore off my clothes and jumped into the shower, half expecting a drooling monster to pop out of my chest.
A half hour later, my entire wardrobe was no longer hanging in the closet but thrown in a heap on the bed. It never seems to matter how many garments I have, or how recently they were bought. Murphy’s Law decrees that nothing should ever fit.
I finally settled on a pair of low-rider jeans and a brand-new top. However, my hair remained a sullen child that stubbornly refused to behave. I was still battling with it when Terri walked in the room. I felt all the more fashion challenged as I caught sight of the million-dollar babe.
Terri could easily have given J-Lo, Sharon Stone, and Cindy Crawford a run for their money. He was dressed in a low-cut blouse and a tight leather skirt with a slit running halfway up his thigh. No wonder I secretly wanted to pattern myself after him. Even Santou sat up straight in his chair and took note.
“Holy mother,” he whistled. “Why don’t you try dressing a little more like that, chère?”
I threw Jake a dirty glance and he wisely clammed up.
“Don’t tell me that you’re not ready yet,” Terri groaned.
I didn’t admit that he was looking at the finished product.
“It’s my hair. It refuses to do a thing,” I complained.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Rach. That’s easy enough to fix,” Terri scolded.
He took me into the bathroom and promptly set to work. Ten minutes later, even I was impressed. Terri had not only tamed my curls, but also transformed my top into a chic off-the-shoulder number. Then he put the finishing touches on my makeup.
“There. See how easy that was?” Terri asked, stepping back to admire his creation. “Your new mantra should be to spend less time playing with guns and more time fixing yourself up.”
“Yeah, except that a make-over won’t get me out of a tight spot,” I smartly retorted.
“Maybe not. But then again, a gun isn’t going to stop someone from thinking that you’re old enough to be Britney Spears’s mother. Meanwhile the proper hair, clothes, and makeup certainly will,” Terri wisely advised.
I considered that to be an exceptionally low blow, until I walked back into the living room and was greeted by Santou’s reaction.
“Whoa, chère! You’re going to have to use the Krav Maga you’ve learned to fight the guys off. Just don’t forget that I’m here waiting for you.”
That was enough to make me feel as seductively hot as one of Charlie’s Angels. My exhilaration overcame any remorse about leaving Jake at home. That is, until the door closed behind us, and my guilt kicked in. It was at times like this that I worried Santou might be tempted to take one too many pills, feeling lonely and depressed. Worst of all, it was my fault that he was in this situation. Terri had heard it all before, but I still had to vent.
“I don’t care what anyone says. I’m afraid Jake’s becoming addicted to painkillers. I can’t help it, Terri. Seeing him like this makes me crazy. The truth is, he wouldn’t have been on that plane if he hadn’t transferred to Savannah. I keep kicking myself in the rear over that.”
“Enough already. I know it’s natural for you to worry, what with being Jewish and the oy veh factor. But honestly, swe
etie, you’ve got to stop beating yourself up over this. Santou’s not going to spin out of control, and he’s never going to do himself in. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have crawled out of that plane in the first place. Jake’s just impatient to get better is all, and he eventually will. But you’re both going to have to learn to relax and give it time.”
Here I was doing it again—worrying about myself when Terri obviously had problems of his own.
“Thanks, Ter. Now I want to know what’s really going on with you and Vincent.”
I must have caught Terri off guard, because his eyes welled up with tears.
“Oh, Rach. That bastard’s gotten involved with some beefy young wrestler. One of his students. Can you believe it? Christ, it’s like a bad plot straight out of an old Joan Crawford film. In fact, I’m identifying with her so much these days that just the sight of a wire hanger sends me into a tizzy.”
“Are you certain about this, Terri?” I asked. Vincent had seemed head over heels the last time I’d seen the two of them together.
“Absolutely. I found a sequined jockstrap in Vincent’s drawer that certainly wasn’t mine, and it sure as hell wasn’t his size. I got so upset that I donned a brunette wig and followed the two of them after wrestling class one afternoon. Vincent took his hot new stud to a chichi restaurant in South Beach, where they drank martinis and fed each other oysters on the half shell. The only thing that stopped me from making a scene was that I looked more like Rosie O’Donnell than Madonna that day. After that, they went back to Eduardo’s apartment, where Vincent spent the next two hours.”
“What did he say when you confronted him?”
“Vincent lied of course. What else? Do you believe he had the nerve to tell me that they were working on a new wrestling persona for Eduardo? Naturally, I asked if that included hands-on training in bed.”
I laced my arm through his. “I’m so sorry, Ter. I thought Vincent was different than that.”
“Thanks, sweetie. Me too. I guess some men are just downright deceptive, no matter how decent they might seem.”
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