Land of Dreams

by Eugene Lester

  He decided to assault someone if he had to. He covered up with one hand. A couple of cars honked but didn't stop. More homeless men staggered by. One man was having a shouting match with a phantom, another shadow boxed against a chain link fence, another sat and stared into the beyond. None of them had a quarter.

  A car slowed and stopped. It was full of teenage girls drinking beer. They shouted and whistled.

  "Good evening, girls. Can you help me out? I need a quarter."

  "Can I touch it for a quarter?"

  "Sure."

  They laughed and threw a can of beer out of the car window. It splattered on the sidewalk and some beer splashed on him. They rolled up the windows and drove away.

  The smallest bill in his wallet was a five. He decided to trade it for a quarter.

  An old man stumbled past, whistling. He had a pair of small cement blocks taped to his ears like headphones. Three teenaged boys were following him, rolling down the sidewalk toward Clendon on their skateboards. They had crew-cuts and wore long baggy shorts. When they saw Clendon they jumped off their boards and started laughing.

  "Hey, dude, what are you on, man?"

  "Can you guys help me out?"

  "You look like bummed out, dude."

  "I just need a quarter so I can make a phone call."

  "A phone call. Can you talk okay?" They laughed again. "Where are you from, Mississippi?"

  "I can talk fine. I just need a quarter."

  "I don't know, dudes, do we have a quarter?"

  "I don't know, let's check it out."

  "You must be like cold, man. What happened? Your old lady throw you out?"

  "Something like that."

  "A bus back to Mississippi is going to cost more than a quarter, man."

  "Here's a quarter, dude. Take care of yourself, man."

  "Thanks. I'll do you a favor sometime."

  "Stay radical, dude."

  They mounted their skateboards and rolled away past the man with the cement headphones.

  * * *

  The quarter went down and the pay phone dinged. Clendon figured he had two chances. If neither one were home, he would have to steal some clothes. The dead smell floated past again. It made his head muscles clench. The phone rang eight times.

  "Hello."

  "Shelley?"

  "Clendon! Clendon! Where are you?"

  "Shelley-- "

  "Clendon! Are you there?"

  ". . . Yes. . . Where have you been?"

  "Clendon, I've been kept prisoner in a so-called detox and rehab clinic and my phone is tapped."

  "Shelley-- I'm naked."

  "Where are you?"

  "I'm naked. They gave me drugs and stole my clothes. Can you pick me up?"

  "Just tell me where you are, but don't tell them. Do you hear me?"

  "My head's about to come off."

  "Tell me where you are, Clendon, I'll be there."

  "All the buildings look rundown. . . I know-- the cross street is the first name of my college roommate, do you remember him?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you know where that street is? I don't where the fuck I am, Shelley."

  Snot clogged his throat.

  "Yes, I know where that street is, but it's a couple of miles long."

  A man in a torn, dirty T-shirt and an opened black leather jacket stopped to listen and watch. He leaned close against the phone booth.

  "I passed a school yard a half-block back," Clendon said. "It looked like there was a small park on a hill across the street."

  "Okay, Clendon, I got it. I know exactly where you are. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

  "I'm so thirsty."

  "Asp has been watching the house. He'll probably try to follow me."

  "Fuck him. What time is it?"

  "Five till midnight."

  "You've got to bring me some clothes. I'm naked."

  "I will. Hang on. I'm coming. Twenty minutes. Bye."

  Clendon hung up and turned away from the man in the black jacket, who clapped his hand on Clendon's shoulder.

  "Give me your money, mo- ther- fuck- er."

  Clendon knocked the man's hand away. The smell of liquor was strong. The man laughed and feinted a karate chop.

  "Give me your money, mother- fucker-- "

  "I don't have any money, motherfucker!" Clendon screamed. "Are you blind, asshole?"

  The man took a fighting stance and wound up to throw a slow, drunken karate chop. Clendon gave him a head feint, then clasped his wallet securely between his locked hands, and windmilled the man the same way he had windmilled Asp. In his liquor stupor the man had no reaction time and Clendon hit him hard on the ear. The man took a step back and then his legs gave out and he fell. He lay on the ground. Clendon walked away, holding his aching hand.

  * * *

  Shelley's Volvo braked to the curb and the passenger's door flew open. Clendon hopped in and she took off before he got the door closed. The windshield was still cracked.

  "You're really naked!"

  "Just for you."

  "Asp is about two blocks behind me. I didn't want them to know from the phone tap where you were in case they could beat me over here. I also didn't know if there might be a second tail. Have you seen anybody?"

  "No."

  Clendon threw his arms around her.

  "You're shaking, Clendon. There's a sweat shirt and sweat pants in the back seat. That's all I had that might fit you. I also brought your boots."

  "Where are we?"

  "We're in Venice. The ocean is three blocks away-- hey, I like your beard. . . but the blond hair's gotta go."

  "What's that dead smell?"

  "The canals. Everybody loves them."

  Shelley was wearing a white blouse and tight brushed denims. Clendon kissed her neck.

  "Thanks for my boots."

  "I can't drive with your cute dick hanging out. Put those clothes on, you'll warm up."

  "You have a beautiful neck," Clendon said.

  He crawled in the back seat and put the sweat suit and his snakeskin boots on. The sweat suit was a few sizes too small, but he soon began to get warmer.

  "Shelley, I'm thirsty."

  "If Asp is by himself tonight, I don't know what he might do."

  "I'll deal with him if I have to."

  "He probably thinks we're going to go get the briefcase."

  "Good. Let him think that."

  Shelley stopped at a 7/Eleven and ran in and bought a two-liter bottle of cola. Clendon drank half of it straight down.

  "How do you feel?" Shelley asked.

  "Like hammered dog shit. What day is it?"

  "Saturday night-- now it's early Sunday morning."

  "I lost a whole day."

  Asp drove a dark Ford LTD into the parking lot, alone, as Shelley was backing out. He glimpsed Clendon, who shot him the bone and saw Asp curse to himself as he tried to get his big car into the correct gear. Shelley pulled her Volvo onto Culver Boulevard and floored it.

  "Where are we going?" Clendon asked.

  "I haven't decided."

  "Where have you been for a month?"

  "They put me through thirty day detox and let me out this morning. For some reason they think I'm a drug addict. It's part of the deal I made with the U. S. Attorney. To let me go home-- under surveillance, of course-- I told them I would testify at a grand jury or trial-- "

  "I don't want you to testify at any goddamned trial or grand jury."

  "But Clendon, the whole deal I made is bullshit, because I don't know anything. Asp is so stupid it's baffling. He even gave me his home phone number."

  "Asp knows you know about Brooks and Diedecek and Lyman and the briefcase," Clendon said.

  "When you called the FBI that morning, I had to say what I did in front of Asp-- "

  "I know and I know they were listening. And Madeline told me about your seizures."

  "Yo
u've seen her?" Shelley said.

  "I had to draw on my limited resources."

  "Did you stay with her?"

  "I had to one night."

  "You fucked her, didn't you, Clendon?"

  "You fucked her, too."

  "It's over," Shelley said. "I'm straight."

  "You're right. It's over. I could've called her tonight first, but I called you."

  "If you chase every skirt that makes eyes at you-- "

  "If we've both had the same person, I guess that should make us even."

  Shelley glared at him and chewed on her lip.

  "It's not the same," she said.

  "And what were doing up there in your bedroom so long with Asp that day? When he came back down, he looked very relaxed."

  "What does it matter?"

  "I was just curious," Clendon said.

  "All right, I gave him a quick hand job."

  "Why?"

  "Why? Because I wanted to calm him down. It worked, didn't it? The dipshit fell asleep, didn't he?"

  "Jesus Christ, Shelley. Diedecek, Madeline, Asp. . . "

  "He held his gun on me the whole time."

  Clendon stopped.

  "Do you want me to kill him?"

  "No. If he was dead, he'd be out of his misery. This way, I know he's still miserable."

  Shelley ran a red light and the boulevard turned into a freeway. It was one a.m., but the traffic on the freeway was the same as one in the afternoon.

  "Asp is stuck back there at the light behind some other cars," she said.

  "Did they impound your Volvo?"

  "Yes. I got it out this morning. The inside of my house is also a wreck, remember?"

  "I wonder if they searched your car."

  Clendon felt under the seat and took out the .38 revolver he had taken from one of Asp's men. It was loaded.

  "What kind of lazy thieves do they hire in law enforcement these days?"

  He looked out the back window. Were any of those headlights Asp's car? They were starting to go up into mountains and Clendon recognized the freeway to the Valley.

  "Do you know some place we can go that's remote?" Clendon asked.

  "I might," Shelley said. "What kind of place?"

  "It's very peculiar that Asp was by himself tonight. I'm thinking I want him to catch up."

  Clendon put his arms around her and kissed her cheek and ear.

  "I can't drive if you do that."

  She gently pushed him away.

  "Do you have any money?" he asked.

  "They gave me my envelope back with the cash in it this morning when I walked out of the detox clinic. Most of the money was still there. One of the U. S. attorneys said he'd see that the mortgage was paid this month if I promise to start my practice back up and be a productive citizen and all that until I'm needed to testify. Here's the exit. I hope this is what you wanted."

  She got off at Mulholland Drive and headed east.

  "I think Asp is behind us," she said after driving a mile.

  The curving road was dark, bumpy and narrow as it ran along the crest of the mountains. Houses hugged the land between the road and the sheer drop. Sprawling lights of the Valley twinkled below.

  "Diedecek told me he had a hunch about this briefcase business."

  "Have you seen Diedecek?"

  "Yeah. The Russians shot him."

  The Volvo jumped and Shelley gasped. She had pressed on the gas, then let up.

  "Russians? That can't be."

  "Just drive for a while. I'll tell you about Diedecek later."

  Shelley drove for ten minutes, frowning and making faces. Clendon watched her as her mind worked. The road became smoother. He looked out the back window again. The big Ford LTD was close behind. He held Shelley's hand tightly. The .38 was in his other hand.

  "There's the Hollywood Bowl overlook." Shelley said

  "Pull in there."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Keep the car running with the headlights on and watch me."

  There was a deserted asphalt parking lot for about ten cars. A sign said the overlook was closed after dark. Some stairs led up the hillside into the gloom. Clendon stuck the .38 inside his right boot, pulled his sweat pant leg over it, and got out of the Volvo. His boots crunched on pebbles. He leaned against the Volvo's warm hood as Asp drove in, parked next to them, and rolled his window down.

  "Want to talk, Clendon?"

  "I want to talk about how it feels to be naked with a gun stuck in your face."

  Clendon quickly bent down, pulled the .38 out from his boot and held it inches from the new scar across Asp's nose

  "Get out of the car."

  Asp smiled and shrugged.

  "Clendon-- "

  "Get out of the car!"

  Clendon pointed the .38 away from Asp and pulled the trigger. Asp jumped as the shot echoed through the hills. It made a hole in the LTD's windshield.

  "Out of the car."

  Asp eased out. When he got out with his arms upraised, Clendon pressed the .38 to Asp's temple and reached inside Asp's suit jacket. Clendon pulled Asp's .38 revolver out and held it in his left hand. He backed away.

  "Open your car's hood."

  Asp fumbled with it in the dark, but opened it and raised it.

  "Jerk out the electronic ignition wires."

  "Clendon-- "

  "Do it."

  Asp stuck his head under the hood and grunted.

  "It's dark."

  "Do it."

  When Asp straightened up, he showed Clendon the wires he held in his hands.

  "Good. Unhook the battery."

  "Clendon-- "

  "Pull it all out, if you have to."

  Asp strained and grunted more, but yanked the whole battery out. The cable snapped and he tossed the battery onto the asphalt.

  "Go stand over there, in the headlights."

  "Clendon, come on. There's a homing device in my car sending out signals to my back up."

  "You and your bullshit."

  Clendon flicked the pistol once and Asp marched into the headlights.

  "Take off your clothes."

  "Jesus, Clendon-- "

  "Are you watching, Shelley?"

  Clendon cocked the .38 and Asp started undressing, piling his clothes on the grass. His handcuffs dangled from a loop on his pants.

  "Boots and socks, too."

  Asp had to sit to take off his boots. He had hulking shoulders, but a medium pot belly and gray hair on his chest.

  "Go sit on the stairs."

  Asp did. Clendon took the handcuffs.

  "Let's walk up."

  Asp started up the stairs. Clendon followed five steps behind. It was several flights to the top and Asp began puffing for breath. When they reached the top, they could see the tall buildings down in Hollywood and more tall buildings in downtown L. A. farther in the distance. Off to the left, the Hollywood Bowl glowed under night lighting.

  "I'm getting chilly."

  "No problem." Clendon paused. "Hey, Asp. I thought surveillance work was done in teams."

  Clendon held the .38 on Asp and snapped one of the cuffs to the railing.

  "Put your hand on the railing."

  Asp shrugged, then gripped the railing. Clendon quickly slapped the other cuff on Asp's wrist. He yanked Asp off balance and Asp sprawled onto the asphalt and grunted. Asp's arm hung from the railing by the cuffs. He lay on his side and wheezed.

  "I'll get your ass, Clendon."

  Clendon's head throbbed all the way down the stairs. He picked up Asp's clothes and fished the keys out. He ran over and flung Asp's clothes into the air and they floated down into the dark ravine like parachutes. He watched them sail down and then threw Asp's boots after them.

  * * *

  Shelley took Laurel Canyon down to the Valley to catch the freeway.

  "Pull over," Clendon said before they reached the bottom of the dark, twisting roa
d.

  "Why?"

  "I want to make you come."

  "What?"

  "I said I want to make you come."

  "Clendon, I'm driving."

  "That's why I said pull over."

  Shelley parked on a dark and deserted stretch. She doused the lights, and turned the engine off. She looked at him funny.

  "I want to kiss you."

  "Kiss me."

  Clendon kissed her for a long time.

  "I want to play with your nipples."

  "Play with them."

  She unbuttoned her blouse. Clendon ran his hands under her bra. She moaned.

  "Clendon, we shouldn't-- "

  "Tell me when you can't stand it anymore."

  * * *

  As Shelley drove down through Laurel Canyon, Clendon told her about Diedecek and the Russians and the platinum blonde who had been walking with Asp in Westwood without her wig.

  "Why did they take all your clothes but leave your wallet with all your money?"

  "Everyone knows the Russians don't know economics."

  At a stoplight Shelley fiddled with her hair.

  "I'm not so sure it's any Russians," she said. "I think this might have been one of Asp's routines."

  "They shot Diedecek and spoke Russian."

  "Diedecek would've known who they really were," Shelley said. "Do you think he's dead?"

  "They didn't let me stick around to see. Why'd they shoot him?"

  "They knew he was talking to people in Washington about Asp's little renegade operation."

  "They who?" Clendon asked.

  "Asp and his gang."

  "His gang?"

  "Yes. Asp is really a gangster, isn't he, Clendon? He just has an office in the Westwood federal building."

  "I suppose that's how I should think about it."

  "Then start," Shelley said. "You said you thought the platinum blonde was wearing a wig and was an American?"

  "Yes. Definitely an East Coast accent. With a wig."

  "You sure it was the same woman you saw with Asp in Westwood."

  "Very sure."

  Clendon watched Shelley chew on her lip again.

  "You know who it is," he said.

  "Yeah, I do. That's Adolfo's wife."

  "Adolfo's wife? What's she doing in Vegas pretending she's a hooker? What's she doing in Westwood with Asp? What's she doing shooting me up with drugs?"

  "I think she's having an affair with Asp. She's probably trying to help him find all the disks."

  "How do you know all this?"

  Shelley shrugged.

  "Brooks told me."

  "Did Brooks know her?"

  "I think she was trying to find out where he was hiding the Eskimo shoes."

  "Does Adolfo know?"

  "Who knows what Adolfo knows."

  "Jesus Christ, Shelley, Jesus Christ. You could've-- "