Kandace jumped from her seat.
Chad led them to the side lot, where two guys were standing around smoking, all four doors to a new Jetta were open. Spotless. Perfect paint, gleaming under morning sun. Even the car’s shadow beamed highly optimistic.
Chad stopped near the driver side door and ushered Kandace behind the wheel. She didn’t need an invitation to slip in and touch the controls, smell the new interior. The moonroof. Her own LCD display and a backup camera. Airbags. Blindspot sensors. She felt safer immediately.
Chad gave a demo and helped Kandace pair her phone with the car’s bluetooth, then set up wi-fi.
“Sweet ride, K.” Strapping in on the passenger side, luggage already in the trunk, April looked around. “And it’s a stick. Sexy. Girl’s got pole.”
Kandace tightened her lips, her eyes wide at April. Chad furtively darted his eyes away, seemingly preoccupied. “If you have more questions, you may call me. My business card is attached to your paperwork in the glove compartment. Enjoy your new Volkswagen.”
And he was off, back to the showroom.
“What was his deal?” April asked. “Sugar daddy? Whatever.”
Kandace shrugged. “Who cares? Let’s go!”
“Boy, the Germans know how to build a car, don’t they?” April said, looking around the interior. “Did you check out the trunk? I bet you could fit at least one mother-in-law in there. Maybe two.”
“Stop. I’m figuring this out.” Kandace fiddled with the controls. “How did he say this works again?”
“Push button start. Keep the key fob in your purse. As long as it’s inside the car, you're good to go.”
“Oh, it’s like pressing play,” Kandace said, hitting the button and the engine purred to life. “This is fun.”
April smiled simply and said, “Repeat after me: April does not want to die today.”
Kandace laughed and repeated the line.
“No laughing. Your laughing isn’t helping me in the afterlife.”
Kandace raised an eyebrow, easing off the clutch in first gear. “You believe in the afterlife?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean I’m right. If I die today, I could be totally fucked.”
Kandace pulled out into traffic and screamed as she shifted into second, third, then fourth gear, then fifth gear as she passed fifty-eight miles per hour. “I love this car!”
“Just remember rule number one. Did a blind person give you your license?”
“Oh, stop. I have enough distance.”
“April doesn’t want to die today!” she gasped, then asked, “Tell me, kind of car does your boyfriend have?”
“Mustang.”
“And he let you drive it?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit, that’s one brave man. You should call him back. He’s a keeper.”
“Hey, I’m not that bad of a driver.”
“If you’re trying to hit people, then I agree with you,” April said. “You’re closer than a hemorrhoid on this guy’s ass.”
“Okay, Driver’s Ed, I’ll slow down. I’m in a hurry and the car’s way faster than I’m used to. Geez.”
“Hey, I’m fine if you want to drive fast, but not in this traffic. My limit is New York City cab driver. After that it’s all just psycho.”
Kandace had to suddenly stop the car. “Whoa.”
“Yeah. That’s what I was afraid of. But hey, good brakes!”
“Okay. Directions. And music.”
“Yes, Captain,” April said and picked up Kandace’s iPhone. In minutes, they were on the freeway, and the navigation lady’s voice spoke through the car’s speakers. April had fun testing the voices for Navigation, leaving it on the British Male voice.
“We’ve got four hours driving?” Kandace asked.
“Sounds right.”
Kandace was quiet, watching the road and trying to get into the song. “Aren’t I lucky? My dad wouldn’t tell me where he lives. But no matter.”
“You’re an amazing human that you’re still trying to find him and bring him back alive.”
Kandace snickered, keeping her eyes on the road. “He’s my dad. I get him and he gets me, you know? We speak the same language.”
“You don’t need to explain. You’re a daddy’s girl. I can see that.”
With each passing mile, she got more and more nervous about arriving. She let herself daydream while April slept, chair reclined. She kept changing her grip on the leather wrapped wheel, checking her gauges. The stereo had great sound, even better than Kyle’s car. The heated seat was tested for several minutes, but it was too warm to keep it on longer.
Buying a new car meant she had replaced Harriet’s stench with new car perfume, bluetooth tech and wi-fi. She hoped it didn’t cost too much to keep.
Aside from checking out her still unnamed car—a task for which she wanted help—and grooving to the beat, Kandace let her mind wander. She was barely sixteen when her father left, her only comfort was knowing she would see him again someday.
New car, new dress. New high paying job. New tan and new hair. But still, doubt creeped in. Was she good enough? Had she done enough?
She was giddy, thinking about surprising him. How would his face look when he opened the door and saw her there?
Almost two years of waiting and thinking and worrying bubbled to the top, bringing tears she quickly tried to hide. Her mind’s eye drifted to the day he left home—it had been evening, around seven. He’d been home for months, three or four. No work. Just family time. The dishes were finished but aromas still lingered from the baked chocolate, a flourless torte, that had triumphantly emerged from the oven. Topped with powdered sugar.
Then, it was just a moment, he rolled his suitcase downstairs and Kandace held on tightly for as long as she could. There was nothing she could say that would change anything—but that didn’t stop her from telling him to stay. Ginger held her daughters, standing on the front porch, waving goodbye as he backed down the driveway. In his Mustang.
The car. That car.
His 1968 Ford Mustang Acapulco Blue GT California Special.
The enormous sign welcoming Kandace to the state of California sent a shock through her nerves. She bounced on the seat and felt like screaming. Instead, she turned the music up.
Forty minutes later, April sat up in panic as the VW came to an abrupt halt on the California 10. “As long as you didn’t hit anyone we’re good,” she said, smacking her lips, then dug through her purse for chewing gum.
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Take a piece. You’re sparking over there, clenching your teeth,” April said.
Kandace complied and popped a bubble, her hands twitched on the wheel.
“Are you okay? I can drive if you don’t want to.”
“Is this what crazy feels like?” Kandace said.
“You’re still driving on the road, so I suspect… well, maybe.”
“Okay. I’m a little tired of driving, but I’m not ready to give up.”
“It’s tight traffic.” April slipped off her shoes. “We’re gonna be here awhile, so I’m gonna pop out your moonroof and see how far this goes.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Why not? We’re not moving,” April said, standing on the seat through the open roof. She changed positions several times and Kandace waited.
“What can you see up there?”
“Oh, not much… Aww. Shit. There’s an accident.”
“No!” Kandace’s face hit the wheel and rested there.
April climbed down and sat, buckled herself back in. “Yeah. It’s a standstill up there. Cops everywhere. Ambulances. Firetrucks. I’d guess it’s at least a half mile up the road. Maybe more.”
“Tell me this will clear up quick, because I can’t take it. And I seriously need to pee. Which, in total irony, makes me think about Kyle.”
April made a face. “Oh no, you didn’t. He’s not into… watching people piss, is he?”
Kandace cring
ed. “Ewww. No! I mean, he better not be.”
April grinned. “Just checking. I’ll play DJ.”
Kandace and April car danced as April changed the songs, giving each one minute to play. When traffic resumed, Kandace put the car in first gear and cheered.
April smiled, studying Kandace’s face. “You gave yourself a nice mark on the forehead.”
Kandace used the rearview mirror to examine and saw nothing there. “That’s terrible. I’m very fragile right now. And I’m… distraught. And complicated.”
“You’re doing fabulous, thanks to me.”
“Tell me again, where am I going?”
“Another three miles on this highway, exit to the 405 and that’s for another mile, get off at Venice Boulevard.”
“The house is close to the beach, right?”
“Why do you think I came along?” April said, adjusting her seat and slipping her footwear back on. “I checked it out. Venice Beach is three miles down the road.” She cackled, slapping her leg. “He’s gonna shit himself when he sees you. You were a little girl when he left. Now you’re a dangerous woman!”
“Stop. C’mon. I’ve not changed that much.”
“Oh, you’ll see. He’s not gonna know how to talk to you.”
“Don’t tell me that!”
“Just breathe, Small Town. Breathe. We are ten minutes away,” April said.
On Pacific Avenue, street parking was in limited supply. Old fences, power lines, and pedestrians characterized the area. Attached houses had peeling paint, discolored siding. Missing shingles. Kandace thought of the area as rural charming.
Parallel parking the VW at the curb two doors down, Kandace twisted on her seat to see out the back. “That backup camera is so sexy. I don’t know how I ever lived without it.”
“Need a wing woman?” April asked. When Kandace didn’t respond, April watched her and waited. “Look, I ain’t armed but I am packin’ heat. Just sayin.”
Kandace made a face at April.
“C’mon. That deserved a laugh. You need to let loose. You can’t go melting down right before you see your dad.”
Kandace managed a smile, all lips, trembling. “I gotta do this. I can do it. Just… stay in the car. I think.” Kandace got out, leaving her purse behind.
21
Kandace held a deep breath and her new flats found broken sidewalk with slow, deliberate steps, as if each footfall required calculation. On reaching the gate, she unlatched it and pushed herself forward, one foot before the other.
All she could think about was how many ways, how many reasons she had to run away. She had arrived at a two-story townhouse, blue-grey siding with a balcony on the second floor. The front door’s faded paint didn’t match Kandace’s perfect picture, but it would do. If she got him, that would be enough.
What if he’s not home?
She rang the doorbell and waited. The front window was covered inside by a curtain. Kandace tapped her foot, wiping her palms again on her legs because she couldn’t stomach getting any contamination on her dry clean only dress. She twisted on her feet. Pressing the doorbell three more times made her feel embarrassed and moments later, footsteps approached from inside.
A man she didn’t recognize answered and her voice cracked when she said, “I’m… looking for John Santellan.”
He looked Kandace up and down quickly and shrugged. “Haven’t a clue who that is. I’ve been here a month. Short-term lease. This guy you’re looking for might have been the last tenant, though.”
Without another word, he closed the door and latched it.
Kandace walked back down the path and cried, her face raw and chapped before she even reached the gate. She rattled the latch and unable to get free, pounded the thing with her hand. It stubbornly wouldn’t open. Wait. Breathe. She tried the latch again and at last it opened.
April stood beside the car, with the open door behind her. “What happened?”
“Wrong house,” Kandace muttered. She sat in the car, staring at nothing.
“Maybe it was, but that means you just haven’t found him yet. Fuck. You’re in LA. Call him. He’s gotta tell you where he’s living. You’re here.”
“Okay, I’ll call him,” Kandace said as she picked up her phone and dialed her father’s mobile. “What’s to lose, right?” It rang once then kicked to voicemail, which was full.
“What the fuck? I mean, seriously. This is making me crazy not knowing what’s wrong or what trouble he’s in or where he is!”
Next, Kandace dialed Markus. “Hey.”
“Hey you too. If you only knew how famous you are,” Markus said. “Leaving Pitt is doing more for your name than tabloids ever could achieve in a million years.”
“Wait… what?”
“Adriana was saying you’re in California, so I guess the word is out that you blew town for the west coast. Everyone’s jealous, of course, like you got spring break in October. You’re an inspiration.”
“Stop. Stop. I can’t deal with all that right now. I’m at the address you gave me and Dad’s not here. The man who answered the door was no help either.”
Kandace could hear conversation in the background on Markus’s end. “Liz said she’s sorry on my behalf. I should have prepped you.”
“Tell Liz thanks. What do I do now?”
“Try the property manager. They must use paper records. Go and fetch a tenant list for that house, send to me.”
“So… what do you know for sure?”
“He’s in LA. What I did was work off my last known records for him under an old alias. I used the FLIR Systems project from about four years ago—they do high tech sensors, thermal imaging, by the way—they’re in the FPDS database. I followed that name to LA. Admittedly, he has changed aliases, but this feels solid. And the only way we can positively know is live contact.”
“Okay, okay. I feel stupid. For real. I have no idea what you just said.” Kandace swore to herself. “Tell me, what’s in this new list from the office?”
“Possible addresses, names. I’m convinced he’s used that rental company recently.”
“Fine. I’ll do it. Where’s the place?”
Markus gave the address and Kandace entered it into her phone’s map. The office was a seven-minute drive. She said thanks and hung up.
“So, where we going?” April asked.
Kandace sighed. “The property manager’s office, but I don’t know what good I can do there.”
“Don’t worry. Just get me there. I’ll handle it,” April said.
“I can do that.” Kandace started the car. “You ever… I dunno. Think about E when you’re not working?”
“That’s why I leave the bottle at the club. It’d get real tempting to live high all the time.”
“I’d go for a mouthful right about now.”
“I bet.”
“I feel like I seriously need help. I’m lost. I… don’t know what I want, other than to do what I want.”
“I know exactly how you feel.” April said.
“How expensive is E?”
“A bottle of twenty pills is one hundred fifty from the club, which is cheap. It’s a tiny markup of MDMA, at sixty-five a gram.”
“Dang. A gram is that expensive?”
“It’s super high demand. Those pills someone stole from my bag are worth forty to fifty bucks per pill on the street.”
Kandace scrunched her face. “People pay a thousand bucks for that bottle?”
“Yeah. It’s a bitch.”
“Do you ever feel like you can’t live without the pills?”
April adjusted her seat and looked around outside a moment. “Yes and that’s why I won’t ever keep any on me. If I’m getting high all the time, then it’ll lose its effects when I’m dancing. And I need that euphoria to make money.”
“So, the more you use, the less it works?”
“Yeah. The human body adapts. It’s why some girls at the club will take half the fucking bottle in one night.�
�
“No way,” Kandace said.
“I cringe when I see it happening. It’s a huge risk at that volume, because it fucks with your central nervous system. Brain. Spinal cord. And your memory, your emotions. It speeds up the heart, pumps up your body temp. You can bake yourself by taking too much.”
“So, what do I do about my… interest?”
“Craving? Yeah. That comes with the territory. You should muscle through it. Just don’t take more than the pair of one hundred milligram pills and you’ll do okay. You’re feeling it because you skipped a night.”
“So, I won’t feel this way if I don’t skip?”
“You shouldn’t.” April pointed toward the right side, through the windshield. “Okay, you’re getting close. Go past the building, over there.”
Kandace turned into a small shared parking lot and got a spot not far from the door.
“Are you coming?” April asked, standing at the curb while Kandace stayed in the car.
“Yeah, but you can talk.”
The property management office hid on the third floor. A wiry man greeted them behind an old medal desk. He didn’t smile.
“Hey, we’re looking for someone and would love your help,” April said, with the same enticing lilt she used at the club to offer services.
He sat still, gauche and unmoved.
April held up a folded bill between her fingers. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
He stood, his expression changing to a mild alertness, perhaps even curious. “Who might you be inquiring about?” April dropped the folded one hundred on his palm. Kandace cringed at how natural the payoff process seemed and wondered how often this man took bribes.
April turned to Kandace, eyebrows raised. “Got a picture?”
On Kandace’s phone, a photo of her father under a shady tree.
April asked, “You recognize him?” holding Kandace’s phone.
He studied the photo as though checking a price tag. “He’s not familiar.”
“He should be. He’s a past tenant.”
“He got a name?” he asked, making a bemused expression at April.
“He’s got lots of names.”
“Oh. I see. I don’t suppose you have a property address?”
Kandace gave the Pacific Avenue house and he unlocked a tall corner file cabinet and sifted through a long drawer of manila envelopes and multicolored tags. The crease across his brow remained while he worked.
Goodbye, Good Girl Page 20