High Desert High
Page 15
They dropped off Jasmine at her place, and despite her begging them to come in to hang out for a bit, Paul could tell Kate wasn’t up for it. He blamed it on himself to get Kate off the hook.
“Is Jasmine okay?” Paul asked Kate after a few minutes driving down the dark, dirt road.
“Yes. She’s fine. She’s going through one of those phases.”
“What kind of phase is that?”
“She’s getting high again. She was clean and sober for a while, and now she thinks just smoking weed and drinking is not that big a deal.”
“How long was she clean and sober for?”
“A few weeks.”
Paul just shrugged and didn’t say anything.
Kate saw it on Paul’s face, barely illuminated by the green glow of the instrument panel lighting. There he goes being a cop. What’s more judgmental than being a cop? They have a license to kill, don’t they? That’s why so many in her circle of friends are out here. It’s to get away from that judgmental Stepford Wives mentality that permeates the hippest and most politically correct enclaves of the American megalopolis. From the Upper East Side of Manhattan to Malibu, it didn’t matter. You still had to conform to their rules. You must join their rat race.
“Some people struggle, you know,” Kate said, with a defensive tone.
Paul flashed on some quick comeback lines, but continued driving in silence, onto the two-lane highway.
“Tell me where to turn to get back to your place,” Paul said, sounding annoyed.
“Turn at the three reflectors on that pole up ahead. Do you want to hang out for a bit?”
Paul liked Kate. He found her very attractive. But he was afraid of the rebound romance. And it would be a double rebound. Both of their spouses had recently died, albeit his was an ex. But it still counts. He knew too well how the rebound romance often leads to disaster. As soon as Paul McCartney hooked up with Heather Mills after spending his whole life with Linda, McCartney with the sunny disposition suddenly started writing torturous songs about driving in the never-ending rain.
“Nah, I’ve got an early appointment with the realtor.”
“Do you really want to live out here?”
“Growing up in New York, I spent time at beaches, mountains, lakes, streams, rivers, forests, even swamps. But this? This is new to me. I need it. I saw too much of the same for too long.” He pulled into her driveway and put the car in park by her porch. “It’s not that I need to get away from anything. I need something new.”
Kate smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Me too.”
Paul watched as she unlocked her front door and went safely inside.
Abandoned meth labs, filthy squatter shacks, cinder block bunkers, roofless A-frames, double-wide dumps; these were a few of Paul’s least favorite things. And after four days of foreclosure house hunting, Paul was about to give up hope finding something in his price range that wasn’t a toxic waste site. Then he got a call from Jasmine, telling him that she knew someone in Flamingo Heights – the area next to the BLM that Paul liked – who told her about a house that was “sold,” fell out of escrow, and was back on the market. Paul wasn’t completely sure about the reliability of the tip, since Jasmine was a flake, but he did call Dwayne the realtor right away. Dwayne was happy to hear it fell out of escrow and, smelling a deal, suggested they meet there ASAP.
Paul was shocked upon arrival. There was a nice old-style ranch wood and wire gate to the property with several Joshua trees lining a gravel, not dirt, driveway. The house, although a plain ranch-style painted a drab beige, looked like it had straight lines, a new roof, and no broken windows. The huge front yard actually had a few trees, several large cacti, a huge grouping of amazing purple cacti, and a few ocotillo that were in bloom with bright red blossoms. And along the side of the fence at the far end of the fenced property there was … nothing. No houses, no sheds, no double-wides, no roads; just the full expanse of the California high desert in all its pristine glory. Joshua trees, nearby ginormous boulders balanced on top of one another, creosote bushes, tumbleweeds, rocky washes, cholla cactus, and in the distance beautiful mountains of mutlicolored rock.
Dwayne arrived and exited his car with the biggest toothy smile yet. “Well, I think you might have found a peach here! Let’s take a gander at the inside!”
Paul tried not to tip the fact that he was elated with the property so far. “Okay, but I hope it’s not another high desert disaster area.”
Dwayne unlocked the door, and they stepped inside. It didn’t stink. Everything was painted white, including the large timbers that went across the ceiling of the big front room. The carpeting was pure Eighties shag, but had lines from a recent vacuuming. The kitchen was clean, and the stove was a vintage Sixties model, but shined like it was just delivered by Montgomery Ward.
“I hope you have your check book, because the next person who drives up is gonna snatch this beauty up! Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a den, central air and heat, and look at this, there’s already cable TV outlets in all the rooms! See all those cards on the island?”
On the kitchen island there were at least 75 business cards strewn about, the ritual of real estate agents leaving their mark when they view a property with a client.
“Once they get wind of this place falling out of escrow, all 75 of them will be lined up down the road trying to get in on this beauty.”
“Okay, okay, I get it. How much?” Paul said, still playing it cool, but inside now terrified he might lose this. After seeing what seemed like a hundred houses from a zombie apocalypse, he knew this was the place.
“They’re asking $80,000. It’s five acres.”
Paul was shocked. Paul had friends who spent that much on a car; $80,000 was just a down payment back east, even in the Bronx.
“You think they’d take 75?”
“I don’t know….”
“Cash.”
“Probably, let’s write it. Fast! Come on, let’s go back to the office!”
“Give me few minutes to look around.”
“Okay, but time’s a-wasting.”
Paul was more than pleasantly surprised at the condition of the home after the houses of horrors he had seen over that past several days. There were remnants from remodels in the Seventies, like a wood-paneled room, sparkly acoustic foam on the ceilings, and wall-to-wall carpeting like something out of pimp’s pad on Kojak. But all those things were cosmetic. The walls seemed solid, the floors level, the light switches worked, and the toilets flushed. He began opening closets and drawers, and it was obvious that someone had gone over this place with a fine-toothed comb. He was curious as to what exactly was under the carpeting, so he walked to the corner of a bedroom and pulled up an edge, revealing a concrete slab. Not the worst news, as ceramic tile would go easily over it. He went to the corner of another bedroom and did the same thing. Only this time when he lifted up the corner of the carpet and the foam pad underneath he was shocked to see the top of a large underground “in-floor” safe. It wasn’t the first time he had seen such hidden safes. They were sometimes discovered in drug dealer’s homes. He knew that if it was locked, it would be quite an expense to have it opened by a locksmith. He reached down, and – lo and behold – the heavy safe top was unlocked and easily removed. Of course he had hoped to find a hidden stash of cash, but it was empty. Still, an “in-floor” safe like this one, embedded in a concrete slab, could cost many hundreds of dollars and would definitely come in handy. Just as he was getting ready to replace the safe top he noticed something up against the inside of the safe, barely visible from directly above. It was an envelope. He opened it and it was a Christmas card from probably the Sixties, judging by the artwork. It read, Dear Dee, Merry Christmas, Love, Mary. At first he thought it read Love, Marcy, his wife’s name. But it was Mary.
Dwayne stuck his head in the doorway. “You can inspect all you want later today, but we’ve got to get that offer in quick. Believe me, this thing will be sold today!”
Back at Dwayne’s office, Paul signed the necessary paperwork and was busy on the phone trying to figure out the quickest way to get a certified check for 75 grand into his hands. But after listening to a multitude of new choices because our menus have changed, endless Kenny G solos, and getting disconnected four times, he juggled some savings and 401(k) money and had the funds in his checking account. All he needed today was a check for a ten percent deposit.
“Do you think I’ll get this?” Paul said writing out a check for the largest amount he ever wrote. The only thing that came close was the security deposit for the Mets bus trip to see the Cubs at Wrigley, but he got some of that back after they charged him for fumigating, steam cleaning, and shampooing the floors and seats after a nearly 2,000-mile trip with four kegs of beer, three giant coolers of cold cuts and bread, and an on-board toilet that stopped working half way across Pennsylvania.
“It’s bank-owned, so you never know. But I imagine there is an employee dying to get this property off the books with an all-cash, 14-day closing for nearly 95 percent of asking. But I’ll make a call just in case. I’ve dealt with them before. If there’s a hitch I’ll call you.”
“Okay, but I want it for 75.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Call me as soon as you know,” said Paul halfway through the door. He knew he’d even go a little higher than the asking price if he had to, because he wanted this place. He was ready for it. He didn’t know what the future would bring. He didn’t really know why he was doing it. Maybe subconsciously it was because he wanted to finally be near Tracy. Twentynine Palms is only about a half-hour away. Close enough, but far enough. Oh shit! He thought to himself. What if Tracy didn’t want him that close? What if Tracy was moving out here to get away from the past, much like he was? And now he was going to be ruining her new beginning. He thought that maybe after they drove cross-country together, and she began her new life, that her life didn’t include him. He knew they had to talk.
Kate watched as Paul rushed by the office on the way to his room, and was taken aback that he didn’t even look in the window or wave. Paul was rushing to call Tracy, which he did the moment he was in the room. He kept the conversation short, knowing that he wanted to talk to her about his move in person. They made arrangements to meet at her favorite vegetarian restaurant in Palm Springs.
Paul rushed by the office again, not even pausing to look in the window. Kate knew she had no right to think that Paul owed her anything. They were really just acquaintances. But it would have been nice if he thought enough to update her on the house she had told him about. And right on cue, there he was, rushing through the door.
“Kate! You’re not going to believe this! I love that place. I put in a cash offer and the agent thinks it’s a slam-dunk. And I couldn’t have done it without you and Jasmine thinking of me! I owe you two! I’m going to meet my daughter in Palm Springs. I’ll call you later!”
And just like that, he was gone. Kate just laughed as she watched him hurry to his car and drive off.
On the drive to Palm Springs, Paul went over everything that he was going to say to Tracy, and every possible comeback he would have if she came up with any objections to his big move. He knew it looked bad. Like he was forcing himself on her at this late stage of the game. But he really wasn’t. At least he didn’t think he was. He noticed the temperature rising as the descended the almost 4,000 feet down to the Coachella Valley. Once he was back on the interstate, with cars whizzing by him, some going close to 100 miles per hour, he realized that the slow pace of the high desert was beginning to be more his style.
Palm Springs, and the surrounding municipalities of Palm Desert, Rancho Mirage, and Cathedral City, were all products of the modern technology. Without air conditioning and irrigation they wouldn’t be the booming golfer, LGBTQ, snowbird, retiree sanctuaries they have become, bristling with traffic, casinos, golf courses, and strip malls. Nine months out of the year, the weather was bearable. But in the summer, one had to be as serious about dealing with the outside temperature as one would have to be when dealing with a Fairbanks, Alaska winter. His GPS brought him in to the strip mall where Native Foods was located. After parking he went over in his head one more time how he was going to frame his moving to the high desert.
There she was. Tracy was sitting at a table drinking a glass of ice water. From outside the window, she looked so much like her mom to Paul. It still freaked him out a little. The last time he and her mom were in love, they were just about Tracy’s age. And now, his love for Tracy was almost as overwhelming. Once Marcy started to take the downward spiral into self-destructive alcohol and drug abuse, Paul did everything he could to help her. Nothing worked. In fact, he felt the more he tried, the worse-off she became, perhaps as a weapon against the father of her child. But like the many traumas of his time as an undercover cop dealing with the life-and-death situations of the drug underground, he knew he had to just put all that behind him.
Tracy looked up and smiled when she saw Paul enter. That pleased him, but he knew he shouldn’t take anything for granted.
“Hi, Tracy! How are you? You look fantastic!” Paul said leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.
“Oh my God. We have been working out like maniacs every day. Heidi has me on this program that is killer.”
Paul immediately knew she was happy. Her eyes, her smile, the intonation in her voice; it all pointed to self-satisfaction. He wasn’t sure if he would be giving off the same vibe.
“I’ve got to start working out. I think I’m getting soft.” He settled into his chair and ordered coffee. “Tracy, I need to discuss something with you. I don’t want to upset you….”
“Oh boy, here we go….”
“Please. Let me finish. After you hear me out you can pound away on me. I’ve been through a lot. We’ve been through a lot. I want you to be happy. In your new life, whatever that is. And I can tell you look happy and healthy.”
“Here comes the big but.”
“There’s no but. I made a decision and I’m buying a house in Yucca Valley. I want to live there.”
“That’s it? That’s what you thought would upset me?”
“Well, I was afraid….”
“Look … dad….”
They both looked at each other and could tell that word dad didn’t come easily, but meant a lot to both of them.
“I’m glad you’ll be close by. Yes, I wanted to get away but I didn’t want to be entirely alone.” A few awkward seconds passed as they both absorbed what was just said. She added, “What are you having?”
“Do they have burgers here?”
“Veggie burgers.”
“Fries?”
“Yup.”
“I’m good with that!”
Paul was so relieved that Tracy was glad he was relocating near her. If she said otherwise, he probably would drop out of the deal and go find somewhere else to begin his new life. But not back to New York. No way. Those days were gone. And except for his buddy, Mickey, and Tracy’s grandma and Aunt Peggy, there was nothing east of the Rockies that had a hold on him. He couldn’t wait to get back to the high desert and settle down.
Tracy had a good feeling about the future. Finally. She was glad to hear that her father’s news was actually good news. Because she wasn’t so certain that it would be good news he was about to lay on her. She was indeed happy that he would be nearby. When her mother died she thought that would provide closure. But there wasn’t any. She still had an empty hole in her heart where her mom of so long ago held a special place. It was as if her mom died a hundred times. Every time she promised she wouldn’t drink, or be wasted for days on end, or come home beat-up from somewhere, or got arrested, and on and on and on. Those were all the times she had died to her. But she kept coming back to life. There was always a sma
ll sliver of hope that maybe this would be the time that she didn’t go out, or that she’d stay and help her with her homework, or go to parent’s night at school, or tuck her in. Thankfully she had her grandma to do all those things and more. She knew her dad was somewhere out there. Grandma told her that her dad was a good man. He was helping her in ways that she would one day understand. And now, somehow, perhaps those days were here. And she was glad to finally feel like she had a family. But she was still working on getting the nerve up to tell her dad of her news; that she and Heidi were getting married. And like Heidi, she would also be joining the Marines.
High Desert High
Chapter Seven
The house was his. Once the bank heard cash they closed the deal immediately. Dwayne the realtor was solemn in his presentation of the keys, as if he was handing over the keys to the Ark of the Covenant.
“This is what I love about my job. If I’m just a small cog in the cosmic karma wheel helping to change people’s lives, I’m happy,” Dwayne said, tenderly placing the keys in Paul’s palm.
“Now that you’re happy and I’m seventy-five thousand poorer, I just hope I’m happy.”
As he drove to his home for the first time as the owner, his cop senses were in overdrive. He turned onto the dirt road that in a couple of miles would lead to his front gate, slowed the Escape to just above a crawl, and noticed things he hadn’t seen before. There was a house on a side street with three large pit bulls on the front porch with no fence around the property. Another home on the way had newspapers covering all the windows. And he noticed a small hand-lettered sign that read BIG HORN HORSE RESCUE 1 MILE. He took a turn down a road just before his street to check it out. There were two lots with decent-looking double-wides and pick-ups parked beside them, and then – up ahead – there was a beautiful group of towering pine trees. He slowed as he passed and gazed in awe at the oasis the owner created on his patch of desert dirt. At least a dozen pine trees surrounding an A-frame home that one might see on an Aspen hillside. The property had a brick and cast-iron gate in front, with a matching wall that must have stretched for a hundred yards in each direction. He could see through the trees that there were modernist sculptures in the yard and on the front porch. He surmised that an artist lived there, which was an excellent omen. He knew very well that when the artists started buying the crappy old lofts around Alphabet City adjacent to the East Village it was a sure sign that prosperity and rising real estate values were sure to follow. And it looked like it could be happening here, too.