by S. W. Lauden
“This the place you were telling me about?”
“Yeah. They got me covering the afternoon shift by myself. I make all the croissants and shit for the next morning.”
“Seems like a good program for you.”
The kid looked at his fingernails, picking off little bits of dried dough with his teeth.
“Beats getting shot. What the hell are you doing here?”
“My friend and I are actually on a case. There’s a woman who lives in the lofts upstairs, but we can’t get in. Not that it matters to you.”
“They keep their shit locked up tight. Lots of homeboys running around down here. What’s she look like?”
Greg lifted his arm a little above shoulder height, not sure what he hoped to accomplish with this awkward conversation.
“She’s short, with dyed hair and lots of piercings.”
The kid smiled, bearing crooked yellow teeth.
“I know that crazy bitch. We threw her and her ugly-ass boyfriend out of here a couple of weeks ago.”
“Was it the guy in the picture?”
He thought it over while studying Greg’s face.
“Could’ve been. You punk rockers all look the same to me, with your funny hair and ripped-up clothes.”
Greg looked over his shoulder and saw Marco waving goodbye to the women. He stood up, ready to get the hell out of there, too.
“Thanks. Glad this is all working out for you.”
The kid pushed himself up, straightening out his apron. He gave a quick glance to the girls behind the counter, taking a step closer to Greg.
“Hold up. I can get you into the building. Meet me around back, by the dumpsters.”
“You sure you want to risk breaking probation for me?”
“Shit. I wouldn’t offer if you were still a pig.”
Greg caught up with Marco out on the sidewalk, explaining the situation. He left out the part about who the bakery chef was. They followed the sidewalk around the corner, ducking down the first alley they came to. The air heaved with the smell of old trash and fresh piss. The kid waited for them outside the back door of the bakery. Greg did all the talking when they arrived.
“You have a key or something?”
“We do a lot of deliveries to the people living upstairs. This door’s for the freight elevator.”
“Any idea what floor she lives on?”
“Damn. I gotta do your whole job for you? Try four or five.”
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
“We’ll call it even, for all that stupid shit I said in Juvie.”
The kid nodded and let the door slam shut, sending them into darkness. Greg groped at the wall for a light switch, finding one a few steps in. The fluorescent lights flickered to life, revealing a puzzled look on Marco’s face.
“What the hell was that all about?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“You look kinda freaked out.”
Greg ignored his last comment as they got into the freight elevator, riding up to the fourth floor. A single concrete-and-steel-beam hallway unfolded before them, lined with industrial-strength doors on either side. A second smaller elevator waited at the far end on the right, the wooden car barely big enough for two people. A single window looked out over the street where they’d been minutes before. They made their way down the line, gently checking doorknobs and reading the studio names as they went. No luck.
Marco stopped to check out the view when they reached the window.
“Hey, I can see your car. Looks like a Hot Wheels from up here.”
He lingered for a moment, before taking a sudden step back.
“What’s up? You see something down there?”
“It’s nothing, bro. I’m no good with heights. Let’s start knocking on some doors.”
“Not until we know which studio she lives in.”
Greg was heading back to the freight elevator when the nearest door creaked open. A tall woman with thick curls emerged, carrying a violin case. She took one look at the two of them and stopped, an exasperated look forming on her face.
“How did you get in here?
She focused on Greg, so he improvised an answer.
“Looking for a friend, but we got turned around.”
She adopted a skeptical pose.
“What’s your friend’s name?”
“Tina Pierce.”
“Of course, it’s Tina. Should’ve known by the looks of you two.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re on the wrong floor. Go up one more. It’s the studio right above mine, end of the hall. The door’s covered in band stickers. You can’t miss it.”
“She a friend of yours?”
“I guess so. I bring her mail in when she’s out of town, water the plants. That kind of thing. This neighborhood isn’t great, so we look out for each other.”
Greg and Marco exchanged a glance. She pulled her door shut, stepping across to the small elevator. Marco sidled up beside her.
“You play violin? We’re musicians, too.”
She looked down at the case in her hand, a small smile cracking her lips for the first time. Greg wasn’t sure where Marco’s new charm came from, but women suddenly seemed enamored with him.
“This is where I keep my paints and brushes.”
“Cool. Is that how you know Tina?”
The elevator dinged and the woman stepped in, pushing the button for the first floor.
“We’ve done some small gallery shows together, but her stuff’s totally different than mine. More like performance art. You ever heard of erotic macramé?”
Greg watched as the door slid shut. He tried to stop it a moment too late, screaming out a last question before the woman disappeared.
“Did Tina have a partner?”
She shouted her response as the car descended.
“Just her boyfriend, Jerry.”
Chapter 16
The fifth floor was identical to the fourth, except for the door at the end of the hallway. Every inch of it was covered in band stickers, creating a swirly mosaic design with the glossy shapes. Small circles and squares intersected with rectangular bumper stickers to spell out the initials “T. B.” None of it helped them with the deadbolt.
Marco slowly twisted the knob, giving a silent push. It didn’t budge. He lifted a hand to knock, but Greg stopped him.
“What’re you doing?”
“No way to know if she’s in there, bro.”
“What happens if she answers? Are we here selling Girl Scout cookies?”
“Let’s just say we came to give her cash from the tour.”
“I didn’t bring her money with me.”
Marco pulled his envelope out, waving it in Greg’s face.
“Then we’ll give her mine.”
Greg released Marco’s wrist, letting his partner bang on the door. The first round of knocks got no response, so he went in for a second. A minute passed before Marco finally decided nobody was home.
“No dice.”
“Thanks for the update.”
Greg made sure they were alone before checking the window overlooking the street below. He slid it open, sticking his head out to inspect the fire escape. It fell a couple feet short of Tina’s window, which was propped open with a stack of coffee table books.
He looked over his shoulder to Marco.
“Climb out there and see if you can get in that way.”
“Fuck that.”
Greg couldn’t believe his ears. He’d seen Marco take so many crazy risks that it never crossed his mind he might have limits.
“Since when?”
“Like, forever. Makes my legs go all weird when I look down.”
“Looks like it’s up to me.”
He lifted a leg, ducking out onto the fi
re escape. Cars and pedestrians passed by down below, but Greg knew that nobody looks up in Los Angeles. He went over to the wrought iron railing, carefully leaning over to reach for the window. Getting leverage wasn’t easy with his arm extended at such an awkward angle, but he managed to inch it upward. The stack of books fell into the studio with a clatter when the window opened all the way.
Greg waited to see if there would be any response to the noise before climbing over the railing. It felt rickety now that he held on from the outside. The distance to the window looked to be a foot-and-half, but it felt like he had to jump across the Grand Canyon. He tried not to look down as he stretched a foot out to grope for the sill. The tip of his sneaker found the edge, chips of old paint floating down to the sidewalk below.
Greg firmly planted his sole before reaching out to grip the frame with his hand. There was no going back once he leaned forward. He counted to three in his head before shifting his weight in that direction. His shoulder caught the corner of the window frame, messing with his balance for a terrifying moment before he managed to tumble inside.
The awkward landing sent him skidding across the concrete floor. He recovered and managed to stand, but quickly got tangled in something dangling from the ceiling. Panic overtook him as he imagined Tina’s feet clinging to his shoulders and the sides of his head. Greg swatted at the black nylon groping him, thrashing to disentangle himself from the nightmare overhead. He fell to the floor again, grunting and gasping as he scooted away. The distance allowed him to see the device for what it was—a well-used sex swing.
Greg leapt up, desperate for a place to wash his hands—or maybe take a shower. Frantic eyes scanned the cluttered space. Towering shelves lined exposed brick walls, the unfinished wood bowing under the weight of thousands of books, a solid-state stereo, and an impressive collection of CDs and vinyl albums. The small kitchen looked hastily shoved into one corner like an art installation or an afterthought. A ratty futon couch and two coffee table milk crates were the only functional furniture.
It took a beat to spot the bathroom, obscured as it was by ceiling-high stacks of cardboard boxes. He was headed that way when Marco pounded on the front door. Greg went over to let him in.
“Keep it down.”
“I heard somebody coming up in the elevator, bro. Thought it might be Tina.”
Greg froze.
“Was it?”
“No idea. They got off on a different floor.”
“Perfect.”
Marco let the door click shut behind him, giving the studio a once over.
“What a dump. I thought artists had good taste.”
“Ease up, Marco. I’ve seen some of the places you’ve lived in. Take a look around while I go wash my hands.”
Marco stood near the sex swing when Greg came out of the bathroom a minute later. One of the coffee table books that had propped the window open was in his hands. Greg looked over his partner’s shoulder. The text was all in Japanese.
“What is that?”
“Some kind of bondage book.”
Marco flipped to a full-page photo of a naked woman in the throes of ecstasy. She was strung up like some fly in a spider’s web, held in suspended animation by an intricate series of ropes. A grey-haired Japanese man stood behind her, a look of pure ecstasy on his wrinkled face. Greg flipped the cover closed to look at the title: Shibari.
“What the hell’s that mean?”
“I’m thinking ‘kinky rope sex.’ Check it out.”
Marco nodded to a video camera mounted on a tripod, the lens trained on the ceiling. A folding ladder lay on the ground beside it. Greg looked up at the sex swing again. He noticed the eyehooks holding it in place weren’t the only ones. Several of them dotted the ceiling across the room, bundled coils of rope hanging from each one.
Greg went over and flipped the screen open. He hit the rewind button, letting the file roll back to the beginning. The screen stayed black when he hit “Play,” until a glaring light slowly filled the frame. It revealed a very naked Tina suspended in mid-air, arms tied behind her back with countless knots. The ropes were gracefully looped around her body, immobilizing her ankles and wrists before racing up to a metal ring overhead. The camera pulled back, exposing a silent crowd seated on the floor beneath her. They looked on in awe as Jerry sent her restrained body into motion.
“Holy shit, dude. Those two had a serious rope fetish.”
“And only one of them is still alive.”
Greg reached out to hit “Stop.” A loud banging came from the front door right at that moment. He brought a finger up to his lips, imploring Marco to keep quiet. They backed up toward the window when somebody started yelling out in the hallway.
“Tina! Are you in there?”
It sounded like the woman they’d met on the fourth floor. Greg guessed she’d had second thoughts about the two strangers in the building and come back to check on Tina. He motioned for his partner to get out onto the fire escape. Marco didn’t budge, his whisper becoming a hiss.
“No way. I’m staying right here until she leaves.”
“She probably has a key.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to run.”
More pounding on the front door, twice as urgent this time.
“Tina! I need to make sure you’re alright. I’m coming in, okay?”
A key slid into the lock on the front door. Greg crouched down, stepping out of the window. Marco watched him go, a defiant look on his face. Greg reached out, sliding an arm around his partner’s neck to yank him outside. He slid the window shut right as the front door cracked open.
“Tina?”
Greg got Marco to his feet, pushing him up the ladder.
“What the fuck, dude?”
“Keep climbing. Don’t look down.”
It was only two stories to the roof. Marco went up and over the lip of the building, falling onto his back. Greg stepped over him, heading for the staircase that would take them down to the first floor. He flung the door open and stepped inside, calling out to Marco as he disappeared into the stairwell.
“We have to get out of here before the cops show up.”
h
Two hours later. Greg and Marco were stuck in standstill traffic a few miles from The Bay Cities off-ramp. They made it back to the El Camino without being spotted by Tina’s neighbor or getting arrested, but had been in traffic ever since. The drive home took twice as long as the drive there. Neither of them had spoken a word in the last fifteen minutes, silently gazing out of their separate windows instead—Greg looking east, Marco looking west.
Rocket from the Crypt chugged through “On A Rope” a few minutes later. Greg’s head swam with thoughts about the kid in the blue hat. Without him they might never have found out as much as they did about Tina, but their interaction had a chilling effect. He didn’t doubt the kid was getting his act together and trying to move on. Greg just didn’t want to feel like he owed him anything. Their lives were already too intertwined.
He decided to give the Police Chief in Virgil Heights a call when he got home. They’d already had a couple of conversations about this subject, but neither of them ended very well. Greg hoped this would be a good excuse to bury the hatchet with his old mentor. If nothing else, it might allow him to get some real sleep. Any relief was welcome the way things had been going recently.
It seemed as if Marco could read his mind.
“You plan on telling me what happened back at the cafe? Looked like you were about to shit yourself when that cook came out of the kitchen.”
Greg sighed, choosing his words carefully.
“He wasn’t just some cook. That was the kid I shot when I was still a cop.”
Marco spun around in his seat, his long hair falling into his eyes. The look on his face was equal parts horror and disappointment.
“Why th
e hell didn’t you tell me?”
“It didn’t seem like the right time to get into it. The whole situation’s pretty complicated.”
Marco retreated, shifting his gaze down to his phone.
“It’s cool, bro. We’ve all got our secrets.”
He punched out a few words with his thumbs and scrolled down. Greg heard some sort of video playing, but couldn’t tell what it was. Marco didn’t keep him in suspense for very long.
“Holy shit. Tina has a ton of videos online. Look at this.”
Greg caught a glimpse of her suspended from a different configuration of ropes before shifting his gaze back to the cars all around them.
“Send me the link. I’ll watch it when I get home.”
“I bet you will!”
Things got quiet again after that. Marco went back to staring out the windshield as they made their way down the ramp. He looked to his right, spotting a familiar car in the parking lot at the rehearsal space.
“What’s Junior doing over there?”
“Probably dropping Chris off to play some guitar. He’s the only member of the band who actually enjoys rehearsing.”
“Tell me about it. He drags JJ down there sometimes, too.”
Greg snorted. If music felt like a chore before the tour, it was the last thing he wanted to think about at the moment.
“Can’t remember what it feels like to love music that much.”
“Come on, bro. We used to be like that. They practically had to tear us away from our gear.”
“And now it’s like pulling teeth to get us together. Should I drop you off at home?”
“For sure. Gabby’s probably getting tired of waiting around for me. Chick loses her mind if she’s cooped up too long.”
Greg went right a block before Eddie’s, pulling up in front of Marco’s building.
“I’ll give you a call later on. I’m going to do a little more research on Tina and Jerry. We should probably plan on getting together tomorrow.”
“Sounds good, bro. Catch you later.”
Marco was about to slam the door shut. Greg’s arm shot out to stop him.
“Ask Gabriella if she can help us get that money her husband owed us. The bank account’s looking ugly.”