“Hey,” Allie said. She tried not to smile, but she couldn’t help it. Smiling was a reflex trained into her mouth by Wai Po (A SMILE WORTH A THOUSAND OUNCES OF GOLD; A PERSON WITHOUT SMILING FACE MUST NEVER OPEN A SHOP; A SMILE GAIN YOU TEN MORE YEARS OF LIFE; IF YOU HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO OFFER, OFFER YOUR SMILE).
“Hey!” Jet had the same wolfish grin for her as he did for the women standing by.
“How’s it going?” Allie stepped back so she could take in his outfit: a black snakeskin coat that only went as far as his waist, a fishnet shirt, black leather pants with laces in place of a zipper.
“Jet Blaster,” he said, and stuck out his dainty, manicured hand.
“It’s me. Allie.” Allie hadn’t seen him in over two years, but she didn’t think she looked that different.
“Allie! Great! Come back to the room with me, we’ll chat.” Jet linked his arm into Allie’s and waved good-bye to the women. He didn’t speak until they were in the elevator.
“Whole place is only two flights, but it’s easier not to run into my fans on the stairs.” Jet winked. He still hadn’t unhooked his arm from Allie’s. She felt heat where their elbows touched. Jet had never been affectionate with her; in fact, he’d barely looked her way each time Allie had visited Penny. Allie had always imagined that he hated the fact that Penny had a kid, was still married, even, and didn’t belong to him alone.
“You look gorgeous,” Jet said. Allie stared at his hair, which was unnaturally black and as glossy as a beetle’s carapace. She wondered how her mother could ever touch that hair. “You were at the Grambier concert, right?”
“What? No. I haven’t seen you since the Hollywood Bowl concert two years ago.” Allie pulled her arm away and stepped ahead as the doors opened.
“No, I’m positive you were at Grambier.” Jet caught up and put his palm on Allie’s lower back. His boots had what looked like a three-inch heel, but he was still only eye-level with her.
Jet unlocked the door to the suite, opened it, and motioned with his arm for Allie to enter. She saw her mother’s yellow satin nightgown draped over the bed. Penny had always worn nightgowns, hemming them by hand in front of the TV at night.
“Well, maybe it wasn’t Grambier, but wherever it was it was a helluva fucking fun time,” Jet said, and he unlaced his pants and laid a delicate, pointed penis in his palm. Allie was so surprised by the sight of this, his pale fingerling of a dick surrounded by chaparral-like pubic hair, that she didn’t quite register what was happening until Jet put his hand on the back of Allie’s head and tried to direct her down.
“HEY!” Allie bucked up. “Jet, it’s me. ALLIE.”
“Allie?” Jet said her name half-smiling, eyes nervously darting around the room as if he expected a whole party of past lovers and girlfriends to pop out and yell Surprise!
“Allie! Penny’s daughter Allie!” Allie glanced down at the dick. He still hadn’t tucked it away. She found it obscene, slimy-looking. An overgrown slug.
“OH, Jesus Christ! Allie!” Jet laughed, flicked his penis in, and tightened his laces. “Sorry about that! I thought you were this girl I met in Ohio at a concert there.”
“No.” Allie sat in the oversize chair and crossed her legs. Her brain was spinning: her mother had left their family for a small-penised man who took blow jobs from girls at concerts; this same man had just tried to get Allie to give him a blow job; additionally, he was dressed like a middle-schooler on Halloween.
“Wow, sorry. But—” Jet put his palms up and shrugged.
“You’re some boyfriend,” Allie mumbled. She still felt like a kid around Jet and couldn’t summon the nerve to directly confront him.
“Oh please.” Jet waved his hand, then sat on the edge of the bed. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about. Your mother and I have an open relationship. She’s probably off fucking some surfer right now while I’m sitting here babysitting her daughter.”
“You’re hardly babysitting me,” Allie said.
“Well you’re hardly handling this like a grown-up. It was a reasonable mistake.” Jet fell back on the bed and ran his hands through his hair. Allie wanted to leave but she knew the only way to her mother was Jet.
“Listen,” Jet said, staring at the ceiling. He had beady little insect eyes. “Since you are grown-up, and your mother is who-knows-where—” He sat up and slapped his dainty hand against his crotch. “There wouldn’t be anything wrong with us having a little fun together.” He smiled, revealing pointy eyeteeth that were longer than his front teeth.
Allie jerked her head away like a kid who wouldn’t eat what was being handed her. She refused to look at him. Was her mother truly foolish enough to be in love with such a puny-minded egomaniac? Then again, she herself had fallen in love with a guy who absconded with her student loan and scholarship money. Allie hoped that by the time she was Penny’s age, she would outgrow such idiocies.
“Okay, okay, sorry.” Jet exhaled and flopped back onto the bed. “But I seriously have no idea where your mom is.”
“She’s still with the band, isn’t she?” Allie felt a stone rising in her throat like an elevator. She needed her mother now. She needed someone who cared whether Allie lived or died. Someone who wouldn’t dismiss Allie as a complete dumbass for having tried coke and then stolen it.
“Yeah, yeah, she’s still with the band. I just mean, there’s no point in your hanging out here because who knows if she’ll even show up.”
Allie didn’t trust Jet. She figured that now that he knew there was no way he was getting a blow job, he wanted her out of the room. “Well, she’ll have to be here in time to leave for the show. When’s the sound check?” As a young girl, Allie had loved mentioning the sound check to her friends. It made her feel important, an insider: “Well first I went to my mom’s sound check and then I went to Fleetwood Mac’s sound check, but their sound check didn’t go off too well because Stevie’s mic was feeding back.”
“Four thirty.” Jet flipped onto his belly so he could read the clock on the nightstand. “Fuck!” He rolled onto his back and sat up.
“It’s four thirty now,” Allie said, and she stood. “Do you think I can have a ride to wherever the concert is so I can find my mom?”
“Oh, she wouldn’t go there without me. She’ll be here any second.” And then, like a cue in a stage show, the door opened and Penny popped her head in.
“Jet!” she said. “We’re supposed to be there now!”
“Hey Mom!” Allie was surprised by the choking happiness that beat in her throat. She rushed to her mother.
“Allie! What are you doing here?!” Penny stepped in, let the door shut behind her, and hugged Allie, enveloping her in that familiar smell: Giorgio perfume and old blankets. Penny looked smaller than ever. She was dressed like Pocahontas in suede fringe pants and a suede fringe vest. Her hair was lighter than Allie remembered, more dark brown than black, and with a slight wave, as if she had gone to bed with it damp.
“Can I come to the concert with you?” Allie asked.
“We don’t have any backstage passes,” Jet said. He was off the bed now and was finger-combing his hair in the wall mirror.
“They’re really strict about the passes.” Penny gave an exaggerated pout.
“Mom! I’m your daughter! And we haven’t seen each other in two years!” The happiness was curdling in Allie’s throat. She was strangely amnesiac when it came to her mother: always anticipating some great, joyful love, only to be disappointed, every single time.
“I know.” Penny’s pout turned into a clowny fake-frown. “But I didn’t know you were coming. And I gave the two passes we had to the salesgirl at this little clothing store where I got this outfit—”
“Where are the fucking clothes you left the hotel with?” Jet asked.
“She’s sending them over here. I didn’t feel like hauling them around with me all day and I wanted to wear this.” Penny’s pouty voice vanished when she talked to Jet.
“How much is that going to cost me?!”
“You can afford it!” Penny spoke sharply, revealing a hint of a Chinese accent. Wai Po had spoken like Chinese characters in Jerry Lewis movies. But Penny, who didn’t seem to have inherited any features from her white father, sounded as American as she was. Or, as one saleswoman at the I. Magnin department store said when Allie and her mother were shopping years ago, “You sound so normal!”
“Just because I can afford it doesn’t mean you should waste my money on it! Let’s go!” Jet walked toward the door, opened it, and pulled Penny out by the arm.
“I’ll go with you.” Allie tamped down her disappointment and rushed alongside her mother to the elevator.
“But really, sweetie, we don’t have a pass for you!” Penny pushed the L button, then stuck her fingers into Allie’s curls. “Doesn’t she have the prettiest hair?” she asked Jet.
“Yes. But don’t start paying for any haircuts. We’re on a budget now.” Allie thought it was interesting how different Jet’s tone was when he was trying to get a blow job from when he was trying to protect his money.
“Mom,” Allie said. “I really need to talk to you. I need to spend some time with you.”
“Honey, that lipstick is too orange for you,” Penny said, and Allie reflexively reached up and smeared it off onto the back of her hand.
The elevator landed on the first floor. “We have to be there now,” Jet said. He walked out of the elevator and inched Penny along by the elbow.
“Well, can I drive you there, Mom? We can talk in the car.” Allie was almost jogging to keep apace—there was a foggy panic in her head, as if this were the only chance she’d ever have again to spend time with her mother.
Allie and her mother were in the Prelude, following a black limousine that held Jet. The other members of Mighty Zamboni had left earlier; Penny complained that they had all grown impatient in their middle age and never waited for her and Jet, even though Jet was the only star and she was the only girl and therefore they were the only ones worth looking at. Allie wondered if anyone was looking at any of them. She hadn’t seen Jet’s face in the National Enquirer for more than two years. And even that had been a picture of him looking dimpled and egg-shaped, wearing a Speedo on the beach in France, with the caption, “Guess who?” Allie had studied the picture while in line at the grocery store. A blurry image of a woman in a pink bikini stood behind Jet. It was impossible to tell if it was Penny.
“Did your father get you this car?” Penny stroked the seat. “Where did he get the money to buy you this car?”
“This is a friend’s car, Mom. I can’t even find Dad right now.”
“Did you drive here from Berkeley just to see me?”
“Yeah, well, sort of. Mom, what happened to Dad’s restaurant?”
“He closed it and is opening another one somewhere, I can’t remember where.” Penny played with the power-window button. “Who paid for the vanity plate? You’re not really a California girl, you know. You’re much too ethnic for that.”
“It’s not my car, Mom,” Allie said.
“Well, that’s good because the license plate is totally wrong for you.” Penny spoke as if Allie had escaped a near-tragedy.
“Why did Dad close the restaurant?” Allie asked, hoping to keep her mother on track.
“Everyone eats gourmet now. Also, the rent was getting too high.”
“Where’s he living? Do you have his phone number?”
“I don’t know where he is, Allie, but he did give me his number.” Penny took a pen from the glove box, then searched the floor for a piece of paper. “Why do you have a loaf of bread?” She jabbed the pen at the loose flap above where the twisty held the bag shut. From her leather-fringed purse, Penny plucked out an old receipt and a palm-size address book. She opened the book and copied a number from it onto the receipt, then put the pen and the phone number into the glove box.
“Do you frequently talk to Dad?” Allie asked.
“He calls maybe once or twice a year.” Penny pulled down the sun visor and looked at herself in the mirror. “He phoned me at the Hollywood Bowl a few days ago to wish me luck with the show. Sweetheart, tell me the truth, do I look older to you?”
“You look young as ever, Mom. You always look beautiful.” She did. Allie often had the urge to show new friends pictures of her mom so they could see how pretty she was.
“Oh, aren’t you the sweetest thing!” Penny smiled and ran her thin hand down Allie’s cheek. That small gesture felt way better than it should have. Allie wondered if it was instinct that made her long for her mother’s touch, or if she were particularly needy right now.
“I need to talk to you about that bread bag, Mom. It’s kinda connected to my tuition at school.” Allie sped up. The limo seemed to have forgotten she was following. There were now two cars separating them.
“Do you need money? I’m really sorry, but I don’t have any money. Jet handles the finances and the man is as tight as—” Penny stopped talking and shook her head.
“As tight as what?”
“I don’t know. There’s some saying, tight as, but I don’t know what the as is. But he’s that tight. He’s as tight as that thing that everyone says as tight as about.”
“In fact I do need money but you’ve never really given me money before so I didn’t even think to ask you for it.” Allie wasn’t bitter about this, or angry, it was simply how things had always been.
“Well sweetheart, what exactly do you need?” Penny squeezed Allie’s hand, which was resting on the stick shift.
“Will you pick up that bread bag and look inside?” Allie asked. “It’s full of pure cocaine that I stole from a dealer in Oakland.”
“This whole bag is full of coke?!” Penny asked, and she grabbed it from the floor.
“Yes, Mom. The whole bag. That’s why—”
Penny appeared to have stopped listening. She opened the bag, stuck in her curved, red pinky nail, pulled out a tiny pile, and shoved it up her nose. “Christ, that’s good!” Although Allie had been fairly certain her mother had done drugs, it was still somewhat shocking to see this person she called Mom snort a long fingernail full of cocaine.
“I didn’t mean to steal it. I was sort of whacked out of my mind on some coke that must have been—”
“This shit is great!” Penny said, and she dipped her nail into the bag again and poked around as if she was breaking up lumps.
“Well now this guy named Vice Versa is out looking for me, another guy named Rosie is holding my friend Beth hostage, and I have to figure out how to return the coke without being killed by Vice Versa, Rosie, or Jonas.”
“Who’s Jonah?” Penny took a hit up the other nostril. Allie cringed as if she’d just watched her mother slice open a vein.
“Jonas. The dealer I stole it from.” Allie put her hand on the bag and clasped it shut. “Mom, these are people with guns. You’ve gotta leave most of it in the bag, okay?”
“Why would you return it?”
“I’m not interested in stealing! I just took it to pay myself back the money Jonas owed me for working in his store!” Allie hit the brakes hard, stopping at a red light. The limousine cruised on ahead.
“Okay, okay, relax,” Penny said, and she watched a young family crossing the road in front of them. “Lotta Mexicans around here.”
“Yeah, well, they’re probably looking at you and saying lotta Chinese around here.”
Penny laughed and Allie smiled. She had forgotten how bubbly her mother’s laugh was, how fun it sounded.
The light changed and Allie caught up to the limo. Almost immediately, they turned into the windy, tree-lined road of the Santa Barbara County Bowl. Giant eucalyptus bows hung like heavy, weighted arms over the car. The air smelled like it had been wiped down with Mr. Clean.
“I still don’t see why you have to return it.”
“God, Mom! Wai Po must have had some saying about not stealing other people’s stuff.” Allie flippe
d through the words in her brain like songs in a jukebox. She wanted to find just the right Wai Poism for this moment.
“Well, Wai Po’s dead, so it doesn’t matter what she’d say.” Penny took another fingernail hit from the bag. Then she lifted the bag, dangled it in front of her face, and watched it swing back and forth. The bottom was starting to sag more, as if a baseball were sitting there. Allie pushed the bag down into her mother’s lap.
“I want to go back to school next semester,” she said. “I want to stay in Berkeley and graduate with honors. I want to return this car to my friend, Beth. I don’t want to be a coke-snorting thief. I want to be someone Wai Po would be proud of.”
“Wai Po didn’t go to school and you certainly don’t have to go to school,” Penny said. “I never went and I’m doing exactly what I always wanted.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re a tambourine girl. Dream come true.”
The limousine pulled into a hidden, roll-gated tunnel behind the stadium. Two guards, white guys who looked like weight lifters, approached Allie’s side of the car. They both wore combat boots. One had a shaved head and the other had hair that looked like a shar-pei puppy.
“Miss,” the shaved guy said into the window. “Do you have a pass?”
“This girl’s with me.” Penny held up a performer pass that was encased in a plastic shield. There was a shoelace-like string dangling from it. “She’s the medic.” Penny opened the Wonder Bread bag, dipped her pinky in, then leaned over Allie and out her window so she could put her finger under the guard’s nose. He sniffed, wiped his nose, then lifted a walkie-talkie and stepped away.
The dog-haired guard leaned his head in the window. “Some of that there for me, too?” He grinned, exposing missing molars. Penny obliged him, then sat back in her seat.
“Go on in.” Shaved Head waved his arms toward the dark opening of the tunnel.
“So you can get me a backstage pass now?” Allie tried to modulate her voice so it wasn’t as raw as she felt.
“Oh sweetie, you know I would have given you a pass if I had one! But since I don’t have one, why not use the coke to get you in?”
The Wonder Bread Summer: A Novel Page 10