Plaster City (A Jimmy Veeder Fiasco)

by Johnny Shaw

  “No.”

  “Tomás said you’re here to do what I want?”

  “Please do not try to play the genie in a bottle game, wishing for three more wishes. I have strict instructions.”

  “He must have some serious shit on you.”

  “You have no idea.” For the first time, his smile wilted.

  “Can you grab me some coffee then? Is that within the parameters of your purview or whatever you call it? Bobby and I need to talk.”

  “Cream or sugar?” Hector Morales asked, his smile returning.

  “Black.”

  “Can you ask him to bring in some doughnuts or bear claws or something?” Bobby asked.

  “And a bear claw,” I said.

  TWELVE

  “Okay, now that he’s gone, what’s your plan to bust me out?” Bobby said. “Climbing through the air ducts is a classic. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

  “My plan for busting you out is to wait for a few days until both the police and the doctors release you. Not as fast, but foolproof.”

  “You’re no fun,” Bobby said. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Go home. All I want to do is hold my son. Be with Angie. Get back to being a boring farmer.”

  “I meant about Julie.”

  I parked a cheek on the corner of the bed. After the last few days, even standing felt like a chore. I rubbed my eyes with my fingers.

  “What is there to do? I know she ain’t home, but I thought we were done.”

  “We still need to find her,” Bobby said.

  “We found her, Bobby. We found her and she shot you. Not on accident, either. She thought about it and she shot you. I get that she’s still not in a good situation, but she’s not tied up in the back of a van. She might be into a bad thing, but she wants to be there. She had a choice back at the garage.”

  Bobby tried to sit up, but abandoned the idea. “Just ’cause she don’t want to be saved don’t mean she don’t need to be. She’s running with a dude that gladiators her out for pit fighting. He’s got her turned around. Making bad decisions is part of a teenager’s job description. Don’t mean you let them do any old shit. If you looked out the window and Juan was building a bike ramp to jump over the Ash Canal, would you let him or stop him before he killed himself?”

  “He doesn’t know how to ride a bike yet.”

  “You know what I mean. When a kid’s doing something stupid, it don’t matter if they want to do that thing. What matters is it’s stupid. So as a parent, you forbid the shit out of that shit. I’m forbidding Julie from doing what she’s doing. She just don’t know she’s being forbidded.”

  “You find her, what do you do? Drag her back?”

  “If we have to. She’s sixteen. Shooting me is the last bad decision I want her to make. If I don’t find her soon, she’s going to make an even bigger mistake. She ain’t safe. I know it. You know it.”

  “We don’t know where she is. How would we find her?”

  “Not we, brother. You. I know it’s a big ask, but you have to look while I’m in here.”

  I pushed myself off the bed. For the briefest of moments, I considered walking out the door. It would have been easier than saying no, which is exactly what I wanted to say. At that moment, not only did I not know how to help, I didn’t want to.

  “I’m putting you on the spot,” Bobby said. “But I need your help, bro.”

  “You’ll be out of here in no time.”

  “Even then, I can’t do it alone. My shoulder’s going to slow me down. Muscles is all tore inside. You got to get on this. Before the trail goes cold.”

  “What trail? There is no trail.”

  Bobby looked away for a moment. “When have I ever asked for anything, Jimmy?”

  I felt my face get hot. I let out a dry laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? You call me at four in the morning all the damn time. Two nights ago I got my tooth knocked out. Which I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear I passed this morning. Saw the gold crown just as I flushed. Not enough time to grab it before it went on its undersea adventure. When do you ask for anything? Every time you get drunk and half the times in between. And now you’re asking for everything. I’ve kicked down my last door for you.”

  “I’ve helped you with plenty of shit. Big shit.”

  “Maybe I ain’t as good a friend as you. Maybe I got limits that you don’t have. I can only jump off so many cliffs before I hit the one that’s too high.”

  Bobby turned to face me. “She’s my daughter, bro.”

  “She is. But this trip hasn’t barely been about her. This whole adventure’s had less to do with Julie and more to do with your guilt. Or just something to do. Like a fucking quest. You’re worried that if something happens to her, you’ll blame yourself, won’t be able to handle it. I know she’s your daughter and maybe you care, but you don’t barely know her. It’s why you’re not upset about getting shot. You think you had it coming.”

  Bobby looked like he was about to get out of the hospital bed and throw down. “Pretty harsh.”

  “You’re putting me in a fucked position, Bobby. I have to be home. For my son. You’re asking me to fail you or fail my family. Can’t you see that?”

  “Your family will be there. My daughter is missing.”

  “She’s only missing to you, Bobby. Julie knows exactly where she is.”

  Bobby took some deep breaths. I waited for a response, but it didn’t come.

  “I’m going to go,” I said and took a couple steps toward the door.

  Bobby nodded. “Can you do one thing for me?”

  “Bobby.”

  “Can you ask Becky to bring Julie’s journals by? I want to keep reading them, try to understand.”

  “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll stop by her place before I head out.”

  “It might not look it, Jimmy. But I’m trying.”

  The look on Bobby’s face broke my fucking heart. Saying no is hard for me to do. Saying no to a friend even harder. Saying no to Bobby crushed me.

  Hector Costales returned with my cup of coffee. No bear claw. “That’s our time. My guess is that, as the victim, Mr. Maves will be transferred to the general area of the hospital by tomorrow. You will be able to visit more then.”

  “Feel better, Bobby,” I said and left the room.

  Hector Costales and I walked out of the hospital together. I reached to shake hands, but he held up a finger, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number. I shrugged and took a step toward the parking lot. Hector Costales grabbed my bicep and shook his head.

  He spoke into the phone. “He’s here next to me.” He listened for a few seconds and held out the phone.

  “Tomás?” I asked him.

  Hector Costales nodded. I took the phone.

  “Hey, Tommy,” I said.

  “Making sure everything’s running smooth, that Hector is doing his job to your satisfaction and all that shit.”

  “He’s been great. I’m not in jail and I just saw Bobby.”

  “Good. Because if he hadn’t, I would’ve had to bust his kneecaps.”

  I looked at Hector Costales, who had taken a few steps away to give me some privacy. “Seriously, Tommy. He’s doing a good job.”

  Tomás laughed. “I was kidding. Killing lawyers is too much of a pain in the ass. You have to wait until dark and stake them in their coffins.”

  I looked around to see if anyone was in earshot. “It’s different when you joke about maiming people than when other people do. You know, for obvious reasons.”

  “I think it makes it funnier. What is it they say? It’s funny because it’s true.”

  “Tell me how much everything costs. I’ll pay you back when I can.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “I’m not going to be in debt to you.”

  “No debt. We’re good. Even. You heading home now?”

  “Yeah. Home.”

  “You and Maves are done running your own detective agency without driving ea
ch other crazy? You’re back to being on the farm? Because that’s where you should be.”

  The tone of Tomás’s voice was sterner than just advice. There was something dark underneath. But there was usually an unconscious element of threat behind his words.

  “This isn’t the first time you’ve pressed me to stay out of this. You know I don’t like to be told what to do.”

  “I’m just saying that home is the safest place for you.”

  “Then it’s a good thing that’s where I’m going.”

  “Yes, it is.” Tomás hung up.

  I walked to Hector Costales and gave the phone back to him.

  “Everything okay?” Hector Costales asked.

  “Nothing is okay.”

  I wanted to help Bobby. I cared, but I cared about a lot of shit that I couldn’t fix. If it was my job to stamp out the world’s injustices, we’d all be screwed. This was a question without a correct answer. A problem with no solution. And all the attempts to fix it would probably make it worse.

  Bobby was different than me. He believed that if you were in the right, if your motives were noble and good, everything would work out. He forgot about the ten or so John Wayne movies where the Duke’s character died at the end. Not a big percentage considering all his roles, but they’re out there. It’s a possibility.

  I knew what I owed Bobby. And that debt could never be fully paid. I knew what he had sacrificed, what he had helped me do. Bobby was the friend who helped you bury the body without thinking twice, without any other option crossing his mind. And in the case of our past, that body-burying scenario was not purely theoretical.

  Bobby’s loyalty knew no limits. And as shitty as it made me feel about myself, I was starting to really see the margins of my own allegiance. It was one thing to disagree with Bobby’s methods or be exhausted by his drunken shenanigans, but he had specifically asked for my help.

  There were practical concerns, of course. I didn’t know where Julie was and wouldn’t have a clue where to start looking. I didn’t know anything about Chucho or his gang—how dangerous they were. There was a good chance they were involved in Driskell’s death, considering they were bad dudes and associates. They were definitely armed. With Bobby’s pistol, for one.

  Even if I agreed that Julie’s future should not be jeopardized by the idiocy of her youth and the bad decisions that were inevitable in teenagerdom, she was mid-rebellion, not a hostage, not lost. Shooting your own father was one of the hallmark clues of a total disinterest in being rescued.

  In short, the situation was fucked. And I wasn’t the guy to unfuck it.

  I didn’t believe that it wasn’t important. I believed that it was impossible.

  I wanted to go home, lock the doors, and cut off the rest of the damaged world. I wanted to play with Juan, tell him stories, watch him grow and change and learn. I wanted him to know that I would always be there, that I would never abandon him. That I would always come back. I wanted to wake up to Angie, look at her when she thought she looked her worst, but she looked her best, puffy face and sleepy eyes and all. Hell, I wanted to get out in the fields. Get my hands dirty in the right way, in the honest way. Shovel shit, not deal with shit. Pet a dog, not get mauled by one.

  I needed to abandon my friend. It was the smart thing to do. For myself and for my family. But historically, when I had the choice between being stupid and being an asshole, nine times out of ten I chose stupid.

  I stopped by Becky’s place on the way out of town. I could have called, but that felt too impersonal. I hadn’t discussed it with Bobby, but I felt like she had a right to know what had happened. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she was Julie’s mother, and she deserved to know the truth more than I did.

  Russell walked me into the living room and called for Becky. She came into the room, gave me a quick hug, and sat with Russell on the couch. Russell’s hand unconsciously and rhythmically rubbed her back. I sat down in the big chair in the corner.

  “There’s no good way to tell this, so sorry if I jump around. And this has to be between us. Nobody else can know any of this. You’ll know why in a second.”

  Becky and Russell looked at each other. They both nodded to me.

  “Bobby and I found Julie.”

  “Where is she?” Becky sat up halfway out of her seat. “What happened? If you found her, why isn’t she here?”

  “Let him finish, Beck,” Russell said.

  “The gist is this. We found her. She didn’t want to go with us. Worse than that, she shot Bobby.”

  “She what? With a gun?” Becky said. “She doesn’t know how to shoot a gun.”

  “She learned. It happened right in front of me.”

  “Is Bob okay?” Russell asked.

  “He will be. Hit him in the shoulder. He’s over at JFK in the police detention area, but you should be able to see him by tomorrow. Speaking of, if you go, he asked me if you could bring Julie’s journals.”

  Becky rocked slightly in her seat. She breathed heavily and audibly through her nose.

  “I think you need to tell the whole story,” Russell said. “It’s like reading the last page of a book. It doesn’t make any sense if you haven’t read everything before.”

  So I told them. I figured if anyone should know what was going on, it was them. I laid out the whole tale, beginning to end. Everything Bobby and I had done and everything we had found out.

  “Holy shit,” Becky said under her breath. “While we were putting up posters, you were running around like two crazies?”

  “That’s kind of our thing.”

  “Shouldn’t we report all this to the police?” Russell asked me, but looked at Becky.

  “Do we really want to tell them that Julie shot Bobby?” I asked. “And Bobby and me would be in a ton of shit, because that’s not the story we’ve been rolling with. From the moment he got shot, still bleeding on the ground, Bobby was adamant about protecting Julie. Don’t know how it would help them find her either.”

  “Makes sense,” Russell said. “Though what do I know? This is all new to me.”

  “Hey, me too,” I said. “The only thing I’m more used to is getting into trouble and making shit up as I go.”

  “What happens now?” Russell asked.

  “For me?” I said, “I’m going home. If I knew where she was, had a clue, it might be different. But I got to get back to my life. I might talk to some friends in the police. Not report it, just chat. People I trust. See if they have a take.”

  “That little fucking bitch,” Becky shouted. She hit the armrest of the couch three times in rapid succession.

  Russell and I didn’t say a word. The air became harder to breathe. Becky seethed, one streak of eyeliner running down her cheek. I couldn’t think of anything to say, which only made me feel like more of a dick. I hoped that she’d hit me, just to feel useful.

  Becky stood up decisively. “I’m going to put a pot of coffee on.” She walked out of the room, leaving me and Russell to stare at each other. Russell was the one to finally break the silence.

  “It’s the shock of it, is all. She’ll calm down,” Russell said. “And don’t think Beck doesn’t appreciate everything you’ve done, or at least tried to do. She does. I can’t imagine dealing with that level of violence. This business is so far outside my bailiwick.”

  That statement confirmed my previous assertion, the word bailiwick sounding perfectly natural coming out of Russell’s mouth.

  Loud banging and broken dishes erupted from the kitchen. The cacophony was followed by a volley of impressive swearing.

  “I’m going to help Beck with the coffee,” Russell said, standing up quickly and heading into the kitchen.

  I considered sneaking out while their backs were turned, but I reached for the newspaper on the coffee table and settled in. Of course, the front page of the Desert Sun was all about Driskell’s murder and upcoming funeral. Big news. Millionaire murders don’t happen every day in La Quinta. I read the article and
when I got to the end and the accompanying obituary, I read them both again.

  After the storm passed in the kitchen, I drank two cups of coffee with Becky and Russell, sitting mostly in silence. After a half hour, I tucked the newspaper into my armpit and said my good-byes. The desert night was cool and humid, a cold sweat forming and coating my skin like a film.

  I stood next to my truck and lit a cigarette. I took another look at the newspaper.

  “Fuck,” I yelled too loud.

  I couldn’t be positive—I would have to check a few things out—but after reading the paper, I was pretty sure I knew where Julie was.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do with that information, but I knew it wasn’t over. And I wasn’t done.

  When I walked in the front door, Angie stood up from the couch and crossed her arms. That was her scolding pose. I knew that from past idiocies. Angie wasn’t a nag, in fact she hated when I put her in the position to be the grown-up. Her posture must have been instinct, because she quickly relaxed, her arms falling to her sides.

  “Juan’s asleep,” she said.

  I closed the door as quietly as I could, walked to her, and kissed her.

  “You should poke your head in his room,” she said. “Make sure he knows you’re home. I’m sure that’ll help him to sleep through the night.”

  I nodded. “It’s good to be home.”

  I held out my arms to the side. Angie walked in close and let me wrap them around her. We stood in the middle of the living room and held each other for a while, her squeeze getting tighter and tighter.

  “What happened to your face? You look like the Toxic Avenger.”

  “The doctor said it would heal in a week. It’s a funny story,” I said.

  “But it’s always more of a laughing-at-you than laughing-with-you kind of funny.”

  “I tried to keep it under control, Angie. Really.”

  “But.”

  “But Bobby. Fucking Indio. The whole thing. It got away from me. Almost from the start, it got away from me.”

  “Is this a break or are you done?”

  “We found Julie,” I said.