“Pauline Horowitz.”
“Do I know Rory Blankenship?”
“Hello. Yes. She was in Ms. Iverson’s homeroom class with us in seventh grade, and a few classes in high school.”
“Do I like her?”
“You did until ninth grade, when she stole Tony Ferrero from me, and told you in front of everybody at Darla Trinidad’s party that you looked like you had traded legs with a chicken and lost your ass in the deal.”
Oh. That Rory Blankenship. “Well, good, then.” I figured it was her own bad karma, and God would probably spare me.
“Would you like to share?”
“There’s a chance I may have implied that I was dying of a brain tumor caused by nail polish, just as she came out of the nail salon. It’s a little unclear.”
“Serves her right. Payback’s a bitch.”
I hung up the phone, hung a left on Olive, then a right on McKinley. It took less than five minutes to get to Danny’s condo. Vista del Mar was an inaptly named complex, since there was no view of the ocean within a hundred and fifty miles of the place. The condos were modest but nice, two stories, with miniature yards in front, and they were attached to one another only on one side, so it was more like a network of duplexes than condominiums. There was a gate at the entry, along with a telephone pad and a listing of residents’ names. I found Danny’s, but I didn’t know if he’d let me in, considering how well our previous two encounters had gone. I called his next door neighbor, a Mrs. Dunbar.
“Yes?”
“Delivery for Salazar.”
“Oh, that’s not me.”
“Sorry, can you buzz me in anyway? His Thai food is getting cold.”
There was no response, but the gate swung open. Who said television isn’t educational? I drove in and circled around to the right, looking for number nineteen.
It was towards the back, overlooking the communal swimming pool. There was a two-car garage that faced the front, plus a single parking space for guests. I slid into the spot as Danny sauntered out, barefoot, in a pair of great fitting Levi’s and a navy t-shirt with the letters FDNY stretched taut across his chest, looking very much like a Calvin Klein ad. I felt myself start to overheat, even before I shut off the air conditioner.
“So you’re the mystery delivery girl,” he said, opening my door.
I hopped out. “Mrs. Dunbar is a busybody.”
“You better actually have Thai.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’m sure I can think of something.” He looked over my outfit. I hoped his assessment wasn’t the same as Rory’s. “So Murphy gets the sexy platform shoes, and I get red high-top sneakers?”
“I’m wearing thong underwear,” I offered.
“Let’s see,” he said, hooking a finger through my belt loop.
I batted his hand away and stuck out my tongue.
“Doesn’t matter. I can picture it anyway.” He paused, looking skyward, then nodded. “Sexy. The jury’s still out on this car, though,” he added, smacking the hood of the Element.
“The seats fold down to make a double bed.”
“Well, that’s certainly a plus, but I don’t know if it’s enough to convince me. Is it comfortable?”
Compared to what? I wondered. A tile entryway? I hadn’t been under the impression that the relative comfort of the surface mattered much to him. I guessed he was thinking of his bad knees.
“I haven’t tried it.”
“That’s a shame. I can help you check it out, if you want. After lunch, of course.”
I rolled my eyes. I handed him the drinks and grabbed my purse and the bag of food. I followed him inside, dumped the bag on the kitchen counter and looked around while he got out plates and silverware. The entry hall made an L-shape, with one leg leading to a couple of bedrooms and a bath. The other leg opened first to the kitchen, then to the open dining area and finally to the living room. Sliding glass doors in the living room offered a view of the small yard, decorated with potted plants and a couple of lounge chairs with bright floral print cushions and a patio table. Above the kitchen was a master bedroom loft that looked down into the living room and beyond, into the yard. Danny’s furniture was mostly Ikea, with a little Pier One thrown in for warmth. But I guessed he’d spent more money on the entertainment system than on all the furniture and appliances combined. It took up an entire wall of the living room, big screen television, several audio components, half a dozen speakers, at least that many remote controls strewn on the glass coffee table. The place was neat, except for the remnants of last night’s takeout pizza and two empty beer bottles on the dining room table. I shoved the box to one side to make room for the plates. We dished out noodles and rice and curry and ate in silence for awhile.
Finally, Danny asked, “Your boyfriend isn’t going to show up in that idiotic truck of his, is he?”
I snarled. “Jealous?”
“What do you think?”
Honestly, I didn’t know what to think. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s just - ”
“I know, I know. Doing some work around the house.” He gave me a smug look. “You know, I can be pretty handy around the house, myself.”
“Hunh.” And around the back yard, and around my father’s garage, and around the backseat of a convertible Mustang, if I remembered correctly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You on your lunch hour? Or are you a volunteer for meals on wheels or something?”
“I’m a free-lance graphic designer. I work at home, so I don’t really have a particular lunch hour.”
“So what’s with the Thai food?”
“You like Thai food.”
“And?”
“Maybe I wanted to be nice.”
“And?”
I sighed. “Fine. Have you seen Sherry Henderson lately?” I assumed he’d think the same thing Kevin had, that I was some sort of jealous twit.
He paused, his fork midway to his mouth, and creased his forehead, thinking. “I’ve run into her at the supermarket once or twice.” He finished his bite and gave a shiver. “Not a pretty sight.”
“Did you know she was using, and probably selling, drugs?”
“We didn’t have a conversation about it, Lex. We passed each other in the produce section and said hello. I almost didn’t recognize her. But, sure, based on her appearance, I assumed she was using.” He gave me a questioning look. “What’s this all about?”
“Did you have any idea her boyfriend liked to smack her around?”
He shrugged, I don’t know. “Is there a point around here somewhere, Lex, or are we just playing twenty questions?”
“Danny, her boyfriend was Lonnie Chambers, the night watchman at the bodyshop. For crissake, please tell me you didn’t know that.”
He sat up slowly and set his fork down on the plate. Our eyes locked, and his face grew dark.
“Why don’t you go ahead and ask me what you really want to ask, Lex.”
“Look, Danny,” I began. I didn’t get very far.
He stood up fast, sending his chair flying backwards into the wall, and hammered his hands down on the table so hard that the plates jumped almost as high as I did.
“I don’t fucking believe what you’re implying,” he growled. “Jesus, do you know me at all?”
I had my mom’s car and had gone over to Derek’s house. His folks weren’t home, and we were hanging out in the living room, watching some TV to kill time before we went to the movies. He started to get a little gropey, and I moved further down the couch. He followed. I sighed and picked up the remote, clicking off the television. I’d been making excuses not to sleep with him for awhile now. Sex with Derek had been bad enough with no frame of reference. But compared to Danny, it became intolerable. I knew I needed to break up with him, but I’d been avoiding the unpleasantness. Now seemed like as good a time as any.
“Derek, I think it would be better if we don’t see each other anymore.”
“What?”
“What the hell do you mean, you don’t want that kind of relationship? What other kind is there?”
“Well, jeez, I still like you. I thought we could be friends.”
He snorted, and his face contorted into something ugly. “Like I want to be friends with you?”
“Whatever.” I stood up and reached for my purse on the coffee table. He slapped my hand away, hard, and tears sprang to my eyes. I was so shocked I couldn’t think. In my sheltered world, men didn’t hit women.
“You whore. There’s only one thing a bitch like you is good for, and I’m going to show you what it is.” He shoved me and I fell over the coffee table onto my back. He was on me before I could move, sitting on my chest, pinning my arms with his knees. I couldn’t breathe.
He tried to kiss me, but I jerked my head away and he slapped me across the face.
By the time he had shifted his position enough to allow me to knee him in the groin with everything I had, I was bruised and bitten, my clothes were torn, and my naïvete was gone. He doubled over, moaning in pain, and I stood up and kicked him as hard as I could in the side so he couldn’t chase me. I ran to the car and locked myself in, shaking with uncontrollable sobs. Eventually, reason returned and I drove.
I parked in front of the Salazars’. It never occurred to me to go home. If my father saw me, he’d never let me out of the house again. I walked up the driveway to the back gate, let myself in and went around to Danny’s window, staying close to the house so I wouldn’t trigger the motion sensor lights. The blinds were open and I could see Danny talking on the phone. I tapped on the window. He looked in my direction, but couldn’t see me in the dark with his bedroom light on. He said something into the phone, set it down and walked over to the window. He slid it open and looked out.
“Don’t move,” he said. He pulled a blanket off his bed and disappeared. A second later, he reappeared at the back door.
The back light came on when he walked past it, and he reached up and unscrewed it and tossed it into a geranium bush. He walked over and gently turned me to face him in the dark. He kept his eyes on mine, but I knew they had taken in every detail. They were black and hard and cold.
“Who did this to you?” His voice was quiet, tight with barely controlled fury as he slipped the blanket around me, pulling it closed over my torn blouse. I winced when the rough fabric brushed against the wound in my shoulder, and I saw the muscles in his jaw clench tighter. I just stood there.
He whispered, “Alexis.”
I forced myself to speak. “Derek.”
“Did he - ?”
I stared at my toes for a minute, kicked a little rock, shook my head no. Danny lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Are you sure?”
“No. I mean, yes, I’m sure. He didn’t. He tried.” I choked on a sob. “He hit me, and he tore my clothes and called me a whore. I think he bit me. But I got away before... I kicked him in the ribs and I ran away.”
“I’m going to go inside to get something for your cuts, okay? Can you stay out here by yourself?”
I nodded and Danny disappeared inside. I saw him go into his bedroom and pick up the phone. He dialed, said a few words, hung up. I realized he was wearing his good jeans and a new black t-shirt, and he had probably been getting ready to go out. He disappeared again, then he was back. He had been gone less than a minute.
He cleaned up the bite on my shoulder, and some scratches on my chest where Derek had torn my shirt open, and he pulled one of his sweatshirts over my head. I thought about Rose, and I guessed this wasn’t the first time Danny had patched up a woman. He sat on the lounge chair with me nestled against his chest, the blanket around us. He stroked my hair and told me I was going to be okay, and I believed him.
Pretty soon all I could sense was the heat of Danny’s body against mine. I slid my hand inside his t-shirt and felt him pull back. That was something new. I didn’t know what to make of it. I sat up and looked at him.
“You don’t want me?”
“Of course I want you, Lex. That’s not the point.”
“Well, then, what is the point?”
“This isn’t something you need to do for me.” His voice was soft, but his face was still hard, angry. “You don’t owe a man that, not ever.”
“I know that, Danny. You don’t get it. It’s just,” I didn’t know how to explain it so he would understand. “When I go to sleep tonight, I want to be thinking about your hands on my body, not Derek’s.”
He stared at me for a full minute. His eyes softened and he reached for me. “If you change your mind, you need to tell me. Not just tonight, okay? You can always say no.”
Later, he drove me around the block to my house and, since no one was there, he came inside and tucked me in. I wanted to tell him that I loved him and I knew I would always feel safe with him. But I was seventeen years old, so instead I said, “Sorry about your date.”
He laughed, and for the first time all night, the smile reached his eyes.
The next afternoon, Danny, Kevin and I were sitting by the pool when my mom came home from shopping. Thankfully, my face wasn’t bruised, and the rest of my injuries were hidden under my t-shirt. I was a little stiff, but no one had noticed. Danny had showed up first thing, ostensibly to kill the day with Kevin, but he hadn’t let me out of his sight.
“Alex, are you still seeing that Derek boy?” my mother asked as she set out a pitcher of tea for us.
I froze. “We sort of broke up. Why?”
“They brought him into the ER last night. He had two broken ribs,” that would be me, I thought. But she continued, “A concussion, a broken arm, and every single one of his fingers was broken.”
Holy shit. “Did he say what happened?”
“Just that he’d gone out to go to a movie and some guys he didn’t know jumped him in the alley behind the theater and beat him up. They didn’t take his wallet, though. I don’t know what this town is coming to.”
Danny hadn’t looked up once from his conversation with my brother.
“What time did they bring him in?”
“Nine-thirty or so.” I had been with Danny from around eight-thirty till almost eleven. Then I remembered the phone call.
After that night, Danny didn’t see Sherry anymore. When school started in the fall, I avoided Derek like the disease he was, and he looked through me like I wasn’t there.
I’d seen Danny angry before, obviously, but never with me. Now he stood across the table from me, glowering, and I’d say he was pissed.
“You can see why I would ask, can’t you?” Technically, I still hadn’t asked. To this very second, we had never spoken about Derek or about the phone call Danny had made that night. But the knowledge that Chambers had been manhandling a woman from Danny’s past, and then had wound up with extra ventilation in his head sort of brought the whole thing up to the surface again.
He was calmer now, not because he was any less angry, but because he was fighting hard for control. His eyes were flashing and his jaw was clenched and his knuckles were white from the death grip he had on the edge of the table, but his voice was steady, if strained.
“If you think I go around shooting people in the head, then I was right, you don’t know me at all.”
“Maybe I don’t,” I barked. “Maybe if you’d ever bothered even once to call me in the past decade, I wouldn’t have to ask. But as it is, no, I guess I don’t know you.” Dammit, I thought, every single conversation we had was turning into a fucking nightmare. I half expected Jack to show up after all, in keeping with the other spectacularly inane encounters we’d had so far.
“No, I didn’t kill Chambers,” he growled. “Is that what you need to hear? Now I think you need to get the hell out of here before this gets any uglier.”
We stared at each other for another few seconds, the mu
scles working in his jaw, and then I gathered my purse and left. I slammed the door, just for dramatic effect. I can be very mature.
Gee, that went well, I thought as I started the car and headed for home.
I wanted, hell, I needed to believe Danny. But I couldn’t in all honesty say I did, not a hundred percent. I drove home thinking myself in circles about Danny and Sherry and Chambers, not to mention Danny and me and Derek. I decided I needed to know if he had visited Sherry at home.
I pulled into my driveway and felt relieved when I realized Jack’s truck was nowhere in sight. The gray Escort was parked in front of Debbie’s house now, but I knew Debbie was hard at work at the post office, so I didn’t think it was someone visiting her. I went inside, tossed the mail on the hall table and sat down with my chin in my hands, staring unseeing out the front window.
Whenever I’m stumped about anything, if I stare out the window long enough, something comes to me. It never fails. Once it took a week, but it never fails.
Fortunately, today it only took a few minutes. I went over to the bookshelf and pulled out my eleventh grade yearbook. I looked through the senior portraits till I found Danny’s picture. I didn’t have any snapshots of him, so the yearbook photo would have to do. I opened the lid of the scanner and laid the book facedown on the glass plate, then replaced the lid. I flipped on the computer and, when Photoshop opened, I scanned in the page and then used the cropping tools to delete everything except Danny’s face. I expanded the photo to four inches by six inches, standard snapshot size, saved the image, and printed it on glossy photo paper.
Armed with the photo, I drove back to Cherry Street. Angela wasn’t on the porch, so I knocked on the door. A woman in her mid twenties answered.
“Is Angela here?”
She gave me the once over, then hollered, “Angela!” and disappeared back into the house.
Angela appeared, looking curious when she saw me. She stepped out onto the porch and said, “Yo.”
I handed her Danny’s photo. “Have you seen this man?” I made some deals with God on the condition that she said no.
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