Boulevard

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Boulevard Page 23

by Bill Guttentag


  “Jesus!,” Jimmy said. “What happened?”

  “I got stabbed.” She held up her arm. The gauze was wet with blood.

  “Holy shit—you okay?”

  “Sorta.”

  She pulled open the door and slipped into the back. Jimmy was pissed at himself. He should’ve known better. He knew the risk, and what did he do?—let her go back in. Some boss.

  “Lets go get that taken care of. Cedars is right around the corner.”

  “Two minutes. It can wait a little.”

  “It’s unbelievable, what you did,” Erin said. Jimmy introduced them.

  “Unbelievably dumb. Managed to get cut up by a kid. Sorry.”

  “Come on,” Jimmy said, “you went into the lion’s den with no gun, no backup, no nothing. Something most cops would never do. You got nothing to apologize for.”

  “Jimmy, I know where Rancher is.”

  “You do?”

  “His girlfriend had a botched abortion—she’s at Cedars.”

  “Christ.” He couldn’t even imagine the horrors a Boulevard abortionist could do. “She okay?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Robin was trembling.

  “Let’s go get you fixed up,” he said.

  “Later. Please. First tell me what you know?”

  Jimmy gave her everything. As he told her, he looked at her bloody gauze-wrapped arm, and then up at her face, which had aged ten years in a week, and thought—what price does a cop pay?

  “How about you?” Jimmy said, “that girl help out? Her name was Casey, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She give you anything?”

  “Some stuff.”

  “She give you who smoked the mayor’s buddy?”

  At that instant, in the rearview mirror, Jimmy caught a glimpse of someone. Partially appearing from behind a thick concrete pillar, for a quick glance around, was a girl. She looked fifteen or sixteen. Long brown hair. And Jimmy would bet everything he had, that if he got closer, he would see two earrings in each ear—her blood type was B-pos’, and when they’d run her prints, they’d be the ones all over the Chateau room and Lodge. The girl saw Jimmy, and ducked back around the pillar, hidden from view.

  Casey leaned her head against the back of the pillar. Shaking. He saw her. They would pop her, put her in jail forever, and go home and kiss their kids, and not think twice about it afterwards.

  Jimmy looked where the girl jumped back.

  “I hung out with her a bunch,” Robin said. “I thought she knew, and sooner or later would give it up.”

  “But? …” Jimmy said.

  “But the kids made me. That’s how I got stabbed. They would’ve killed me—but it was Casey that saved me.”

  “Knowing you were a cop?” Jimmy said.

  “Yeah.”

  Robin gently rubbed her hurt arm.

  “She’s a good kid. Dealt with more shit than I ever could’ve—than anyone I ever met, could’ve. She was tight with Paul. They were like brother-sister, and she took it hard when he killed himself.”

  “Was she there? Jimmy said.

  “No,” she said softly, looking down at her blood-soaked gauze.

  “Where was she?”

  “On the Boulevard.”

  “She have a witness?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good witness?” Jimmy said. He saw her left hand massaging the gauze.

  “Sure.”

  “But we should still bring her in to talk, right?”

  He started the car.

  Casey saw the car coming towards her. Dragon said she’d cover for her. Right. What did she expect? She was nothing to her. She was nothing to anyone.

  The car came closer. There were three cops inside. Who would all have their pictures in the paper tomorrow morning for arresting the street scum who killed the mayor’s best friend. Case solved. All over. But for once, she wasn’t going to run. She wouldn’t fight or scream either. She’d let them frisk her, put the cuffs on her and take her to jail. And if she told them everything, maybe they wouldn’t kill her.

  Jimmy stole another look into the rear-view mirror. Robin was facing forward, but her eyes were to the side—searching. They drove towards the pillar where he saw the girl.

  As he went towards her, Jimmy was suddenly standing in front of those tanks again. And anyone stupid enough to stare down their barrels was going down. Kids. Cops. Anyone. He couldn’t stop it, but he could start pulling people out of their way. Beginning now.

  He stopped the car. Erin looked at him. Jimmy slipped his hand across the seat and gently touched her thigh. Barely perceptibly, Erin nodded. Jimmy turned around to Robin.

  “I thought you might want to walk to the ER on your own. It’s only two blocks away.” He passed her his badge.

  Robin quickly pushed open her door. A moment later, she stood by his window.

  “Thanks, Jimmy.”

  “Just one more unsolved LA murder. Happens every week. Stick it on the pile.”

  Robin walked off, and then broke into a jog towards the pillar. Jimmy called after her. “Tell her to clear out—this offer expires at midnight.”

  The cops’ car had started again and was heading right for Casey. She hurt in every pore of her body. But it didn’t matter anymore …

  She stepped out from behind the pillar. The car moved closer.

  The cop driving looked straight at Casey. She recognized him from before. Their eyes met. He held the look—and it wasn’t an angry or tough guy look, like she would have expected. It was different, the look of guy who didn’t seem that bad. A look that somehow said—I understand.

  The car went past her, down the exit ramp.

  Casey turned to Robin, a few feet away. The pain was gone.

  63

  Jimmy pushed the elevator button and they rode to the sixth floor of Cedars-Sinai. “You sure you want me to come with you?” Erin said.

  He thought about it. For all he had been through, Rancher was still his son, and the day he was born was the happiest day of Jimmy’s life. On the other hand, having Rancher wasn’t exactly an advertisement for getting involved with him. But there wasn’t another person in the world Jimmy would want with him right now. So was he sure? Yeah, he was sure.

  “I’m glad you’re coming.”

  When they reached the room, Mary was awake, but barely. An IV tube was in her arm and she was even thinner than usual. Sitting on a chair beside her, his legs tucked under him, and holding Mary’s hand, was Rancher. He looked at Jimmy, surprised.

  “Dad?”

  Jimmy felt a rush. God, one word—dad. For all the bullshit and pain—he was his dad.

  “What are you doing here?” he was completely on edge. From Mary, from the rock.

  “I heard Mary was here. I wanted to see how she was. How you were.”

  Rancher looked at him, and then turned away. Pushed out again. Erin was a few feet back, in the doorway. Now she saw the reality of his life.

  Then, Rancher turned back around. “It was bad. There was blood all over the place. Tons of blood. They had to do a whole operation on Mar’, but they said she’s gonna be okay. We’re outta here in the morning.”

  “Then what?”

  “Dunno.”

  “Look,” Jimmy said, “come stay with me.”

  “I—we … we can’t stop.”

  “You wanna try?”

  Rancher lowered his head and slowly rocked in his chair. Mary looked at him.

  “It’s gonna be hard,” Jimmy said, “unbelievably hard. But I’ll help you and Mary any way I can.”

  Rancher looked at Mary … Jimmy felt a shoulder brushing his. Erin had come up behind him.

  “Rancher?” Jimmy said.

  Rancher turned to Jimmy and softly said, “Yeah.”

  “Mary?”

  “If Rancher comes, I’ll come,” she said weakly.

  Jimmy felt it in his chest. He’d seen enough to know that they might only have a couple of weeks befo
re the Siren song of crack was too much, and he’d lose them to the street again. But with Erin in the mix too, maybe they could all tough it out and somehow, someway, win. Jimmy was ready to give everything he had to make it work. And they’d be a family. It would be a fucked-up family—with drug withdrawal, heartache, misery, and pain. But at least they’d be a family.

  64

  Casey stood by the Greyhound station’s glass doors while Robin was at the ticket window. She looked at the magazine stand and saw the same snarling woman, watching the same snowy black and white TV. Robin had her arm sewed up and bandaged. The doctor was cute and so nice. While he worked on Robin, Casey sat to the side on a stool thinking, there’s a whole world outside the street—where nice people do nice things. They help people, and get paid for it. They don’t break into stores, eat from dumpsters at Mickey-D.’s, or do dates.

  Outside, as the others were getting onto the bus, Casey stood to the side. A misty rain was still falling. Up ahead were the lights of Hollywood Boulevard. Busy as ever. Through the rain, Casey saw some kids crossing Highland. They looked like Jumper, Dog-Face and Dream. Another girl she didn’t know was with them—maybe somebody new. Casey turned away.

  Robin handed her the ticket, and Casey thought, maybe you don’t get fucked by everybody at every chance.

  “Bozeman, Montana,” Robin said.

  “Montana,” Casey answered. She loved the sound of the word.

  Casey swung a small backpack over her shoulder.

  “Got everything you need?” Robin said.

  “Money, orange juice, and string cheese.”

  “And my number?”

  “And your number.”

  She turned and headed for the bus.

  Casey wanted to look back. She was dying to look back. But she didn’t. She never saw Hollywood again.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book would not exist if it wasn’t for the extraordinary generosity and support, in countless ways, of my friends, colleagues, and family. I am truly fortunate to have them in my life. My gratitude to—

  Keith Scribner and Tobias Wolff—friends and teachers.

  Jessica Case (my fantastic-in-every-way editor) and Claiborne Hancock at Pegasus Books. Mel Berger at William Morris Endeavor. My friend and attorney Linda Lichter.

  Friends Matt and Katya Peppler, Sharon Chatten, Rod Kramer, and my Stanford biking group.

  My parents, brother, and family.

  The John S. Knight Fellowships at Stanford University, and its former and current directors, Jim Risser and Jim Bettinger.

  My students.

  And most of all—to Marina Brodskaya and Misha and Sasha Guttentag.

  BOULEVARD

  Pegasus Books LLC

  80 Broad Street, 5th Floor

  New York, NY 10004

  Copyright © 2009 by Bill Guttentag

  First Pegasus Books edition 2010

  Interior design by Maria Fernandez

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part

  without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote

  brief excerpts in connection with a review in a newspaper, magazine, or electronic

  publication; nor may any part of this book be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

  system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic,

  mechanical, photocopying, recording, or other, without written

  permission from the publisher.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  ISBN: 978-1-4532-1587-6

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Printed in the United States of America

  Distributed by W. W. Norton & Company

 

 

 


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