I decided to answer honestly, even if it revealed too much about my uniqueness and my dreams, and even if it risked my investigation.
“I want more money.”
“You came to the right person. Let me think about your situation. I also want to come by and estimate the value of your property.” She slid her finger around on her computer screen. “How about Monday afternoon?”
“I got a lunch date that day, but my renter should be home. He doesn’t speak much English, so just point a lot, make approximative gestures with your hands, and say stuff louder than normal. People from other countries really appreciate that.”
“He’s not some weird kind of foreigner, is he?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
We both watched the beautiful, semi-naked people pass by on the path below for a few more quiet minutes. Then I said goodbye and went back to the Mercedes.
It took her another half an hour to clean the place up. I watched her come out, lock the door, and then take off in the Eldorado.
I tailed her back to her house, where she stayed long enough to freshen up and change clothes. Then she drove back to the huge house on Comstock Avenue, where I had spied on her before at the cosmetics party. At first I thought that she was going back to nail the oldster, but when I sneaked up to the window, I saw the hot chick sitting next to Gertie. They were all having dinner together.
I waited a while longer to see if she had any other plans for the evening, but she went straight home from there.
5
The next morning I got up early and went on a stakeout at Gertie’s. Within an hour she was on the road. I followed her on the Pacific Coast Highway from Venice up to Malibu. I thought she was going to check on some real estate, but after she turned up Malibu Canyon Road, she pulled into the parking lot of a Presbyterian church. I pulled into the parking lot and watched her get out of her car. She was wearing a yellow dress that fell below her knees and covered most of her neck. It was so baggy that if I hadn’t already seen her in racy clothes, I’d have taken her for an old conservative grandma. It had extra-large white lace on the edges that made me think she had hand-knitted it. Then as I watched her walk over to a young couple standing by the door, I was amazed to see that she knew how to walk without swinging all that luggage of hers. This was the first time I had seen her in flat-soled shoes. The usual cigarette in her hand had been replaced by a bible, which she carried against her hip like the Statue of Liberty carries whatever the hell it is she carries.
She greeted the young couple, but kept a lot of personal space around her. She extended her arm stiffly and gave firm handshakes, and then they all went inside.
I thought about trying to go in and sit way in the back, but I had no idea how this place operated. I hadn’t been to a whole lot of churches, but I knew some places made you lift up your hands and go crazy, and others made you tell everybody how the lord came into your life in ways that usually sounded a little fruity. If this place was similar, I’d have to stand in front of everybody to give my story, and then I’d be discovered.
I waited until everyone was inside, and then I sneaked up to Gertie’s big yellow car. I looked around in every direction for passers-by, and then when I saw no one, I plastered my face against the driver’s side window. There was the overflowing ashtray and the expected layer of cigarette ash on the dashboard. There was the half-expected, wadded-up underwear on the passenger’s side floorboard. But what caught my attention was a slender cardboard box sitting on the passenger’s seat whose lid was lying off to the side. It appeared to be full of business cards. I decided to risk setting off the car alarm, if she had one, and pulled on the handle. The door opened without a sound. I reached in and pulled a card out of the box. In elaborate, gold lettering, it said: Ms. Elliot: Finding homes for good people. Below, in smaller font, was written “Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O LORD of hosts, my King, and my God. Psalms 83:3.”
I felt a natural reflex to reach for the panties, but I fought it off by making my hand go to the glove compartment. When I opened it, packs of condoms came pouring out. As I was picking them up off the floorboard and stuffing them back in, my hand struck something hard. I pushed aside a few condoms, and there I saw a small, black handgun. I’d never held one before. I picked it up and felt its weight in my hand. It immediately made me feel like I was up to something dangerous and intriguing. I aimed it at an imaginary bad guy and gave my best scowl.
“Give me the money, cocksucker!” I said, several times, accenting it different ways. “Give me the money, cocksucker! Give me the money, cocksucker. Give me the money, cocksucker.” That last one didn’t really work. It probably would have confused the dude I was aiming the gun at and ruined the moment. Even people who are about to croak have a strong sense of decorum.
I put the gun back and covered it up with condoms. When I shut the glove box, I saw the panties again. I snatched them up and stuck them in my pocket. Then I shut the car door and sneaked back over to the Charger.
The service lasted about an hour. Gertie came walking out frailly with the young couple, who looked all smiles. She walked them over to their car, gave a hug to the woman this time, and watched them drive away. Then she headed over to the Eldorado, now with a quicker stride and the familiar shake. She tore out of the parking lot and drove back to the PCH, sucking away at her tobacco cock.
The Eldorado started swerving more dangerously than normal as she drove south along the coast. Gertie slid back and forth in her seat a little and then, with cigarette still in mouth, tried to lift her dress over her head to take it off. The air rushing into the window plastered the yellow fabric against her face. She started gesticulating wildly and entered into oncoming traffic, where a group of motorcyclists on Harleys spread out like a school of fish avoiding a shark attack. As Gertie pulled the dress off her face, her car veered back into the right lane. She looked around to see what all the honking had been about, giving everyone the finger at the same time. Then she reached behind her and fished some clothes off the back seat. She pulled a tank top on and then wiggled into what I assume was a mini skirt, more or less without putting anyone’s life in danger.
When she arrived in Santa Monica, she pulled into the left-hand exit lane to drive up the cliff. I started to switch lanes to get behind her, but someone driving up fast on my left honked and prevented me from getting over in time. I had no choice but to keep driving, so I exited near the pier and drove up to Ocean Avenue, hoping if I turned north I could catch up with her. I circled around the Promenade several times, but there was no sign of her.
I was in the mood to give up for the day. I knew she wasn’t headed home immediately, so if I wanted to continue following her, I was going to have to wait at her house and hope that she would stop by between errands. The week had been exhausting, so I was thinking I needed a day off to relax and think about how I was going to handle this situation now that Gertie knew who I was.
6
I drove to Dennis’ house to hang out with my dad. He was doing pretty well, but I figured I should take him out somewhere for the day so that he wouldn’t get too sick of staying in the same neighborhood all the time. I decided he might like to say hello to his old buddies in Venice, so we got in the Charger with the big poodle and took off.
When we arrived, I bought some tacos to go. We scarfed them down while sitting on the beach. It was the first time I had really relaxed all week. As I stretched my legs out in the sun, I noticed that Dennis’ clothes were looser than before. At first I thought it was because of the extra room I had now that all my schlong hair had been yanked out, but even my waist line felt thinner. It must have been all the coffee and moving around. I had also skipped several meals this week, and I hadn’t had time to drink any booze either.
On the beach the big poodle was a chick magnet. They couldn’t resist giving him a pat, and when they did, I tried to imagine
that he was like an extension of me, as if the girls were coming over to tell me how cute I was. That was a big ego boost.
I took my dad over to the picnic table where he used to play chess. There was a homeless dude with his chess pieces set up waiting to play. The pieces were all dirty, and they clearly had been put together from several incomplete sets. The guy himself looked like he had been put together from several incomplete humans. He grinned at us as we arrived. He looked like what Einstein would have looked like if he had gone nuts and tried his luck at professional boxing. My dad looked at me as if he was waiting for me to do something.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Put shampoo on him, too,” he said.
“I don’t think he’ll let me. Hey buddy. You like shampoo?” I asked, shaking my head no sneaky-like so my dad couldn’t see it. He smiled and shook his head no. “Sorry Dad. No deal. You wanna play Stinky here or not?”
“I play for money, after shampoo.”
I led him over to where he used to do his sculptures. He didn’t want to do that either. I had a real homeless prima donna on my hands now.
We walked down to muscle beach and watched the steroid dudes sweat everywhere. Then I bought a few new Arnolds since I was, after all, at the place he used to hang out. I told my dad to pick out some Tshirts too, but he kept choosing tie-dyed Obama shirts with pot leaves all over them. I had no idea the president smoked so much weed. I didn’t let my dad buy them because he would have really stuck out in Dennis’ neighborhood walking around like that. He settled for a shirt that had a beer-drinking mule in overalls on it.
7
When we got home he wanted to go straight to the internet chess, but I told him he had to get shampooed up first. I didn’t think he’d do it alone, but after a little hesitation he took a shower by himself.
I went out to the Mercedes and got the parabolic microphone out of the trunk. I took it inside and replaced the batteries. The sound crackled a little more than it used to, and I got an occasional shock on the hand, but at least it worked.
That afternoon I was flipping through the channels when Spieldburt’s shark movie came on. I was thinking I had underestimated this Hollywood bozo. Maybe he wasn’t all cute alien after all. Here was a guy who had made a movie about a monster swimming around tearing people’s limbs off, and I was starting to think that I was like one of those swimmers who had no idea where the shark was or when they’d see it again. Actually, some of those guys in the movie at least had boats and radar to find their shark. My Sharkburt was protected by guards and an uppity New-England prick. And what if he never even decided to come up for a bite? How was I going to get my money?
That night back at my place I decided to hit Tommy up for the next month’s rent. It was a little early, but I had given him unlimited use of my car, so I was sure he wouldn’t mind. I knocked on his door. I didn’t wait for him to answer because it would have taken him too long to find the words.
Tommy was sitting at a little desk he had recently bought, typing away on his computer.
“Hi Tommy,” I said.
“L.O.,” he answered. I looked over his shoulder at what he was typing. It was a lot of math stuff that looked pretty complicated.
“What are you working on?”
“Computair program,” he said, with all the stress on the wrong syllables.
“What kind?” His eyes started wandering around, so I knew he was looking for words. He looked around longer than usual, so I figured I’d throw him a bone and change the subject. “Do you have the rent? It’s early, so if you don’t, that’s cool.”
“Rent? Oh yes. Rent, I ‘ave rent.” He began rifling through the drawers of his desk. While he was doing that, I got a tickle in my nose, and I knew I was going to have to sneeze. I looked around, but there were no tissues in his room. I reached into my pocket and felt something soft. I took it out just in time, sneezed all over it, and was getting ready to put it back in my pocket when I saw that it was Gertie’s sexy underwear. I kind of freaked out because I had just jammed my nose into an old lady’s thong, so I tossed it like a hot potato. It landed on Tommy’s unmade bed. He finally found his checkbook, so he turned around and rolled closer to me in his office chair.
“‘Ow do I, uh, fill up ze check?” he asked. He didn’t look over toward his bed, and even if he had, he probably wouldn’t have noticed anything. His sheets were the same color as the underwear—fire-truck red.
I showed Tommy how to fill out the check, all the while waiting for the moment I could step over to his bed and grab the thong. He needed help with almost everything, so I couldn’t step away. When he got done writing, he tore off the check and handed it to me. Then he just sat there looking at me, waiting to see if I needed anything else.
“Well, thanks Tommy. Oh, by the way, a woman is coming tomorrow. Let her in the house. Tomorrow, let the woman in the house, okay?”
“Okay.”
I backed out of the room, eyeing that little thong, and shut the door.
I was tired and wanted to go to bed, but I hung out in the living room with the big poodle, hoping that Tommy would step out long enough for me to run in and grab the goods. He never came out, and I ended up dozing off. When I woke up on the couch it was 3am, and the light in Tommy’s room was still on. I could hear him typing away, so I gave up and went to bed.
8
I woke up late the next morning. The first thing I did was go over to Tommy’s door. I opened it and peeked in, hoping he’d be at his morning classes, but he was sleeping away. I couldn’t see the thong anymore because he had rolled around in the sheets. Maybe he hadn’t seen anything, but I was seriously worried because if he found it, he might think I had been doing in his bed, and then he’d move out and I’d never find a tenant willing to do all the housework.
I walked over to Dennis’ and got ready for my lunch with Helen. I put on the best clothes Dennis had, combed my hair, and made some final adjustments in the mirror. I had to admit that I was looking better than ever. I wasn’t expecting any miracles, but I figured that Helen would be curious enough to talk to me for a while.
I got to Culver City early and parked in the Westside Pavilion Mall’s underground parking lot. I took the escalator up to the three-story Barnes & Noble and ordered a big coffee. I sat next to the windows that overlooked Pico and Westwood and watched the traffic roll by.
I was surrounded by students from UCLA. They were taking up almost all of the tables, sitting around with piles of books and their laptops. I was pretty impressed by all the effort they were making until I realized what was really going on. Most of the girls were all dolled up and the guys were checking them out every time they looked up from their work. This was like some sort of modern bar, a club where people flashed the goods—“look at me with my biology book. I could be a doctor someday. Shallst we get with the doing?” As I continued to watch these people, I could tell that they were used to seeing each other there all the time. When one of the guys would give up studying for the day, he’d usually walk over to a table of chicks and say something like “oh man, I think I need a break. You wanna get some air?” which I thought was weird. Where were they going to get air in L.A.? But there was always some chick who wanted to go. I realized I had been way wrong all my life, thinking that alcohol needed to be in the mix somewhere. These kids had replaced the booze with books and the results were just as good.
One kid near me was reading a book about writing screenplays. The author on the cover looked like a tough guy. His name was Syd. I was tempted to tell this kid that he was hanging out in the wrong coffee place, that he needed to go over to my usual hang out. But maybe over there was like the big leagues and this place was the pee-wee leagues. He’d have to hone his skills and find a good-luck charm before he could fit in over there.
At noon I went down the street to La Serenata. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but inside it was nice and cozy. It was Helen’s favorite restaurant. I got a table by the window
so we’d be able to people watch, and I sat around waiting for her.
She arrived twenty minutes later. I knew she’d be late because there’s never parking on Pico Boulevard at noon. She probably had to drive to the very bottom level of the Pavilion parking lot before she could find a spot. She walked through the doorway and looked over the whole room until she found me. She looked wonderfully simple, the kind of simple that only a woman making a lot of effort can come up with. She had on jeans and a sort of hippy-looking white shirt with a square collar and long sleeves. The material was so light that you could almost make out the color of her skin. When she stepped over I stood up, and she gave me a little hug and smiled.
“Hi Lon. Wow, you look nice!” she said.
“You too.” She had put on just enough perfume so that you could only smell it if you were very close. This was something I always appreciated about Helen. Most women have this all wrong. They put on four or five squirts of strong perfume, and it wafts all around the room, attacking the nostrils of people who they’ll never even talk to. Helen put on only a light mist, so as you drew nearer for whatever reason, you got a little whiff of it, and that made you want to continue getting closer. It was like she was rewarding you for moving in the right direction.
Helen never needed to look at the menu at this place. She always wanted chicken sopes, which was cool because I got to pretend to be a classy guy who always knew what his date wanted and could order for her. But me, I never knew what I wanted, so I took the menu in my hands and looked over everything. I could tell that she was people watching, but after a while she looked over at me and examined my new look. When I finally chose what I wanted—empanadas—I set the menu down and saw her smiling.
“That must have really hurt, taking all that hair off,” she said and laughed.
“When I went to the place, I thought they were going to use scissors. Then they ambushed me with the wax before I knew what was going on.”
L.A. Success Page 10