“You should rest, take it easy for at least a week, come in and see me before you go back to work. Okay?”
“You bet, I’ll do that,” I said.
She gave me some aspirins and water in a paper cup. I swallowed it all down as instructed. She smiled at me and wrote something down in my medical chart. Patient is rough around the edges but obedient.
“If you start getting dizzy or have severe headaches that won’t go away, I want to see you immediately. Understand?”
“Right.”
“I’ll send in the paperwork to your department requiring you take the week off. You don’t have to worry about that and I don’t want you to work at home. No stress at all, understand? Just rest. And try to take it easy on your head.”
“Sure, Doc, no blunt objects and no fires.”
“Please.”
“Listen, maybe you should write me a prescription so I can take some antibiotics or something.”
“For what?”
I opened my mouth and showed her where Mary Tyler had pulled out my wisdom tooth.”
“Good God. What happened?”
“Somebody took a souvenir.”
“You need to have that taken care of by an oral surgeon.”
“Can I pass on that for now? I just want to make sure it doesn’t get infected.”
“Only if you promise to go next week.”
“Sure, I’ll do as you say.”
She wrote a prescription and eyed me suspiciously. “You should make an appointment for that right away,” she said.
“I will, but maybe not today.”
“I’ll have the nurse fill the prescription for you. Do you have someone who can pick you up?”
She positioned her desk phone toward me. Our eyes met and after a fleeting moment of feeling sorry for myself I dialed and waited. The phone rang five times. I was about to hang up and call a taxi when Eddy answered, huffing and puffing.
“Hello?” he nearly bellowed.
“Hi, Eddy? Can you pick me up at the hospital? I’ve got a bump on my head and they say I can’t drive home.”
“Joan?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are you?”
“USC, neuro something in Dr. Djiersinsky’s office. Just go to emergency and ask for me, they’ll tell you how to find me. Hurry, before they force-feed me hospital food.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said and hung up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WE WERE OUTSIDE ABBOT’S pizza on Abbot Kinney Boulevard, about three blocks from my house. It’s a hot spot in the funky part of Venice. Merchants of cool hope to hook in the fresh-faced bored young people. Eddy went inside the New York-styled joint to order us pizza with chicken and spinach. I stayed behind in his car, one of those tiny insect-looking electric things. I got antsy and went next door to Abbot’s Habit, a coffee bar. A sweet German girl named Casey owns the place. I entered, sat on a stool at the coffee bar, and took in the aroma of coffee beans from all over the world. The place was empty but someone was banging things around in back and I figured it was Casey. She came to the front carrying a tray of coffee cups. When she saw me, she looked startled, alarmed.
“Hey, Casey. Anybody been in looking for me?” I asked.
“Joan, Jesus… Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Answer the question, will ya?”
“Oh, hmmmm, a big guy?”
“Real buff with long black hair?”
She nodded and wrinkled her nose at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Did you tell him where I lived?”
“Hell no. But you know, I did catch him behind the counter, I thought he was ripping us off but he said he dropped some change and it rolled back here. There wasn’t any money missing from the till when I checked it.”
“Do you have my address written down somewhere, you know, for home deliveries?”
“Yes, it’s here in this recipe box… Oh, was that what he was doing back here?”
“Is my address still in there?”
Casey checked her little file box under the letter L. My card wasn’t in there.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Joan. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No, it’s okay, really. Don’t replace the card, okay? You know where I live, right?”
“Of course. I’m really sorry. Is he bothering you?”
“I’m gonna handle him.” I started towards the door.
“Well, good luck. Feel better.”
“Thanks.”
I was back in the car and waiting before Eddy came back with the pizza.
“Popeye’s special, just like you requested,” Eddy said.
“Good.”
“I’m glad you called me, Joan.”
“Me, too,” I said and let a silent moment go by. He was staring at me, sort of like he was in shock or something. I guess I looked really bad. “Can we go now?” I asked. “The pizza’s getting cold.”
He started the car, revved the engine such as it was, and took off through the streets of Venice headed for my place without my having to direct him. The pizza wafted a fragrance up my nose like in a cartoon and it smelled divine.
“Funny car. You’re such the environmental activist.”
“Yesssss, I am.”
He looked at me as if he were prepared for an insult. He had parked and we both got out of the car and made our way into my tiny house.
“Is everything you do, like a political statement?” I asked.
“I try to live at one with my beliefs. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, I try.”
“Does it offend you that I’m not supporting Saudi Arabia’s number one industry?”
“Not really. Are you Jewish?”
“No, I’m merely intelligent. You don’t really think I should drive around in a gas-guzzling SUV like everybody else in LA, do you?”
“You’re funny, you know that?”
“I’m so pleased you think so,” he said, and he was smiling like he really was pleased.
I handed him the pizza while I got my keys and unlocked the door.
“I hope you’re not some kind of anti-American,” I said, my back to him.
“No, I love my country,” he said as he leaned his chest into my back. I could feel his breath on my ear.
“Fiercely. I’m just anti-bullshit. Is that okay?”
“Sure, that works.” I didn’t let on what else was working.
We entered the front door of my house and we both went directly to the kitchen. I grabbed two twenty-four-ounce bottles of beer. Japanese. I like to keep a supply of the stuff. It goes great with pizza and chili.
“I’m not so sure such a large bottle of beer is good for a concussion, Joan.”
“Concussion? It was probably low blood sugar.”
“You got whacked on the head with a hammer.”
“Who told you that?”
“Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”
“How did you know it was a hammer?”
“Okay, I read the file when the doc wasn’t looking.”
“Oh.”
“Sorry. Just the way I am.”
“I understand. Eddy, I’m drinkin’ this beer and you’re not going to stop me.”
“All right, but don’t die on me, okay?”
“It’s a deal.”
I took a bite out of my pizza, careful to chew only on the good side of my mouth, and slipped the rest of the pizza into the oven. Then we went into the living room where I put the DVD Face/Off with Nicolas Cage and John Travolta in the player. It’s one of my favorites and I’ve watched it at least a dozen times. I think it’s based on an old thirties movie I saw once as a kid on late-night television. I liked the old one, too, but don’t remember the title.
I went into the bedroom, put on long-john pajamas, and got a blanket. When I came out, Eddy had taken a place on the leather couch and gotten comfortable. We sat there on the couch munching pizza, swilling beer, and generally having a good ol’
time. Bit by bit we got closer and closer until finally I ended up falling asleep with my head in his lap, him stroking my hair, what was left of it. I woke up later to find Eddy gazing at me with what I took to be loving eyes.
“When are you going to finish your mother’s paintings?”
I looked through hazy eyes at the paintings and sighed. “I don’t know, when I get a free moment, maybe. Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay, fine with me. Why do you like this movie so damn much?” he asked.
“Because it’s good,” I said. “Hey, wake me up every once in a while to make sure I don’t fall into a coma, all right?”
“I thought you said it was just low blood sugar.”
“Just in case, okay?”
“You bet, babe.”
I didn’t see the end of the movie, but I know what happens. The good guy and the bad guy trade faces and go live in each other’s worlds. Something about that was appealing to me. I was dreaming that I was both the bad and the good guy and had become completely confused when Eddy woke me up and walked me into the bedroom, put me to bed under the covers. He kissed my cheek and returned to the living room. I watched his form walk out of my bedroom and realized I had put my trust in a man I hardly knew. I was a regular Blanche DuBois. I immediately conked out.
I slept hard and woke up to a bright light. Someone held open one of my eyelids. Eddy. He was checking on me as I had requested, making sure I didn’t slip into a coma or anything. I groaned in protest. He patted me on the cheek and disappeared. I fell back to sleep and dreamt that I was riding in a little yellow bumper car. My hair was long like my mother’s and it was softly whipping around my head in a gentle breeze.
I was deep in sleep when I heard a loud bang that sounded like a ferocious wind had blown in my front door. I grabbed my gun from under my pillow and crept up to the bedroom doorway, gun first, to see Carl pointing his Berretta on Eddy. Eddy was standing in the middle of the living room clad only in jeans, holding his hands straight up.
I was relieved Eddy wasn’t in his underwear or worse, naked.
“Carl? What are you doing?” I forced my voice to sound calm, matter-of-fact.
“Who is this guy?”
“He’s my friend, he’s watching out for me.”
“That’s my job.”
“Once upon a time, Carl.”
“I heard you were hurt and I came here and…and…”
Carl was looking at the paintings with a rather confused expression on his face. I moved from the doorway and into the living room.
“Get out, Carl. Go home, do you hear me? Go home.”
My Smith & Wesson now pointed at his big-barreled chest.
“Who the fuck’re you, anyway?” Carl asked Eddy.
“Nobody special.”
“What kind of car is that you drive?” Eddy looked at me then back to Carl.
“It’s electric.”
I crossed the room and stood between Eddy and Carl so that Carl’s Berretta was now pointed at my chest. I aimed right back at him smack dab between those sweet eyes of his. I was ready to shoot, at the same time praying to God I wouldn’t have to.
“Carl, if you don’t put down your weapon I’m going to shoot you dead. Do you understand?”
His face filled with shame; his body sagged in defeat. Without a word, he holstered the gun and walked out. I followed, my gun still steady on him. He turned back to me.
“Sorry about the door.”
“Don’t worry about it.” The Smith & Wesson was now in his face. “Could’ve been worse.”
He snorted. My gun still on him, he moved out the doorway and I followed him, my bare feet on the walkway, all the way to his car. He opened the car door, reached in, and pulled out a paper bag.
“Gus gave me these to bring to you. He said you forgot them in his car and he sort of suggested I use it as an excuse to come see you, to check on you. You know, a little surprise visit.”
“Oh, I see.” I recognized the brown bag wrapping from the breakfast place, my replacement diner mugs—a great irony, that.
“I just wasn’t prepared for you to have company. It threw me off. I thought I could come and take care of you.”
“Carl, you gotta get this: you can’t take care of me anymore. Your chance for that is gone. You have to move on. It’s different now. You have to accept that. Your job is to take care of Debbie now. Give her the surprises. I bet she digs that sort of thing.”
My gun was still on him. He reached out with the brown package of diner mugs. I took it from him and held it against my chest.
“You don’t have to keep pointing that gun at me, you know.”
I put the gun down by my side. “I don’t feel safe with you anymore. I don’t trust you. And I won’t. Not ever again. It’s over, Carl.”
“All right, Joan. I get it, I guess. Are those your paintings?”
“They’re my mother’s.”
“Your mother’s? You never told me she was an artist.”
“You never asked.”
“Where did those paintings come from?”
“My aunt sent them to me. I don’t know why.”
“Joanie, I need for us to be friends.”
“I don’t think I can do that. Trust is a big issue for me and that’s been shot all to hell.”
“You’re the only one I can talk to.”
“What’s wrong with Debbie? She’s a good woman, seems to have a fierce love thing going for you. I like that. You can trust that she has your back. I mean, it seems like a pretty good foundation for a relationship. A strong foothold to start with.”
“But you and me, we have so much history together, Joan. How many times have we saved each other’s lives? How many times have we done the right thing? How many bad guys have we put away? You can’t even count ‘em, that’s how many. Too numerous to mention. That’s how many.”
Tears came out of his eyes. And before I knew it, my eyes were filled to the brim.
“Well, yeah, but things change, Carl. There’s things about me you don’t know. Secrets that I’ve kept from you about…about which… Look, you’ve done some things…that remind me of, um…things that are similar to some very bad history… Oh, please. Go now, Carl. I’m tired, that’s all the talking for today. Okay? I really don’t feel all that great.”
“Okay, I’m going to go now. Maybe I understand what you’re trying to say. Maybe I don’t, but even if we can’t be together, I’d like for us to have coffee or even breakfast sometime.”
“I don’t know, Carl.”
“Don’t decide now. Just consider the possibility.”
“Okay, I’ll consider the possibility.”
“Thank you, Joanie. Maybe one day I’ll earn your trust back.”
“Sometimes things just get destroyed, Carl, and there’s no bringing them back.”
He nodded. “Just consider the possibility.”
“Right. I’ll do that.”
He got in his Mach I, pulled away, and roared down the alley. “She’s A Brick House” blasted out of the car windows.
The alley pit bulls barked in retaliation and I stood there softly shaking my aching head.
I walked back into the house, my gun at my side, bag of mugs in my other hand.
Inside, Eddy had completely recovered and was grinning from ear to ear. He eyed the package clutched to my chest.
“You sure have a lot of visitors.”
I put the bag of mugs down on the kitchen table with a thud. I looked around the room searching for a short explanation but didn’t know where to begin and settled on, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. What about you?”
“I’m tired. I need some more sleep.”
I walked back to the front door and tried to close it, but the wood holding the lock contraption in the doorframe was completely destroyed. Eddy came to my side and looked at the door.
“I’ll guard the door, don’t worry. You go on back to bed.”
“Th
anks. Sorry, about all this.”
“Get some sleep.”
•••
THE NEXT MORNING, I woke to hear the shop sounds of Eddy fixing the front door. I felt amazingly refreshed and energetic. An unfamiliar feeling of hope filled my chest. I brushed my teeth and inspected the shocking wound in my mouth and popped one of my prescribed antibiotics. When the aroma of roasted coffee went up my nose and pleasantly tickled my brain, I figured Eddy must have prepared it and apparently he liked it strong. I followed the aroma into the kitchen.
“Look, we’re alive!” Eddy said and poured me a cup of coffee in one of the two new diner mugs.
He sat down at my kitchen table still clad only in his jeans. Our fingers touched when he handed me my coffee, creating an electrifying response in my body. I tried not to let on, but I don’t think I was successful.
“Thanks for fixing the door. I’m sorry about Carl.”
“Don’t apologize, I have a sneaking suspicion it’s not your fault. I half don’t blame the guy.”
He grinned at me. I just looked at him with mild disbelief. I was impressed by how he handled Carl.
“Hey, did you know you have an opossum in your oak tree?”
“Oh, that’s right. Was he friendly to you?”
“Not really. Mostly, he played dead.”
“Well, don’t feel bad. They do that, you know.”
He grinned some more. I sipped coffee, wrapping my hands around the perfectly designed mug.
“Look,” I said, “I need to go out for a while, make a few runs.”
“For what?” he asked, “You’ve got me, I’ll drive you anywhere you wanna go. I’m your vehicle, baby.”
His masculine energy seemed to bounce off the walls of my kitchen. I was used to being alone in my home. His eyes bore through my resistance to him. He was the alpha male and his attraction toward me had not dimmed.
“How long is that gonna last?” I asked.
“Forever, if you want.”
“Aw, come on.”
“It’s not like I have a job, Joan. I’m available, I just have to get my workout in and a rally here and there, some environmental espionage now and then.”
“You’re making fun of yourself.”
“I have to do that sometimes,” he said.
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