"And there we would be, waiting to sell a dog so we could buy groceries," Jackie said.
"No," Johnson said. "Because there is decent money in police dogs. There’s a good demand not only in Los Angeles, but also in the Bay Area."
"Just suppose we were living in that double wide," Jackie replied. You, of course, would be busy with your dogs. But exactly what the hell would I be doing all day?"
"I don’t know. You could vacuum all day, drink vodka and watch court TV same as you do now. Or you could become a country girl. Learn to ride a horse. Join a crafts club with the other farm ladies. You could even learn to work with the dogs."
"That ain’t going to happen. By the way, Johnson, I can’t believe how fast you gobble up your food. You eat like a dog. You don’t chew, you gulp. It’s not an appealing sight."
"I think it’s a cop thing," he said. "A rookie learns to do it. I can’t count the meals I’ve tossed out the car window when a trouble call came in."
"I can cook," she said.
"Oh really?"
"It used to be my passion. So there’s something, at least. After a hard day of working the dogs, you could come home and find me in the kitchen wearing nothing but an apron and cowboy boots, whipping up something divine."
"That certainly puts trailer life in a new light."
"Yes it does. And after dinner, we could fold away the dining table and trip the light fantastic. But before we get to that point, you’d have to learn to eat like a human being, slowly, and not try to talk with your mouth full."
"I suppose I could take a class or something," he said.
"I’ve never dated an older man before," she said.
"I’ve been waiting for that to come up," he said. "But we’re only eight years apart. It’s not that big a deal, is it?"
"I don’t know. I really don’t. Do you still have your prostate?"
"Yes," he said. "Oh hell. I knew it wouldn’t work out," he said. "Right now, I’d give anything to be younger. Or at least have more hair."
"That’s very sweet, Johnson."
"No. Not sweet. Desperate is more like it."
"I’ll spill another secret," she said. "Every night, I have this terrible dream. I have to re-live Bout attacking me. But quite often, in that very dream, you appear and attempt to rescue me."
"I do want to rescue you," he said.
"Well I hope you do better in real life, because in the dream you always fail."
"I won’t fail in real life."
"Well, I have just learned something, Johnson. This is not Casablanca, final scene. We aren’t walking into the mist at the start of a beautiful friendship. What we have here instead is an L.A. classic movie. Two very lonely people, entirely wrong for each other, who want to shamelessly use each other and damn the future consequences. I want to use you to feel safe, and you’re a lonely old fart who wants to stoke the fires one last time. I should walk away right now, but in spite of your terrible table manners, I am not going to flat out reject you. I will give it some serious thought."
"Do you mean that?"
She took a final sip of iced tea and stood up. "Yes I do. And to prove it, I’m going to do something really stupid right now. Brace yourself."
"I’m ready."
"Johnson, would you like to go out with me tonight? On a real date? Actually, it’s a double date with my sister and her husband, but one where you would be required to make table talk and not eat like a dog. Will you?"
"You know I will," he said. "Now I have to ask you something else. Do you know anything at all about the guy who was killed in the dumpster?"
"No," Jackie said.
Johnson laughed softly. "Jackie, I have been lied to for thirty years by experts. You are no expert. We both know your bodyguard was involved. I am going to run interference for you, tell the guys working that case you don't know anything."
"You'd do that for me?"
"I just did."
Chapter 16
Jackie arrived at Black’s office building 15 minutes early to find the doctor waiting for her in the lobby.
"Where’s Donna?" Black asked. "She’s supposed to be your shadow."
"Oh, she went next door for a cup of coffee," Jackie lied. "I’m going to call her when we’re done here."
"I got your stat blood work back," Black said. "Your liver function tests were at the high end of normal. It’s really something of a miracle. You need to quit the alcohol or you’re going to wind up with cirrhosis. I’m comfortable enough with your liver tests, however, to start you on a trial of Paxil to help with the anxiety and depression. And here’s a prescription for iron, vitamins and a potassium supplement."
"I really just want medication to stop the flashbacks," Jackie said.
"Unfortunately," Black replied, "there isn’t a medication to guarantee that."
"There isn’t?"
"No. I’m sorry, but there just isn’t. But your biggest problem isn’t flashbacks. Your biggest problem is anxiety. It's the anxiety that triggers the flashbacks. That explains why you’ve been medicating yourself with alcohol, which is the classic—and worst, medicine. Later, I will teach you some simple medication techniques to use when you feel the flashback coming."
"Dr. Black, I told the police I wasn't ready to pick Bout out of the lineup. I know you don’t want me doing the lineup the cops had planned. I’m not ready to face Bout. But I feel guilty for being so weak."
"Forgive yourself, Jackie. You’re under a lot of stress. You need to take it slow. If the lineup becomes absolutely necessary, I will help you deal with it."
"Would you go with me?"
"I might. But for now, let’s go take a ride."
"Where to?"
"No place in particular. We’ll just drive around and talk. I got a new car and I don’t feel like sitting indoors." Minutes later they were cruising down Ventura in Black’s brand new blue granite metallic three-quarter ton Suburban 4x4.
"Don’t speed," Jackie said. "There’s a cop following us."
"Police protection?"
"I call it protection-lite. He’s there somewhere, but you never see him." She examined the interior. "Ah, that new car smell. Is this the new ‘green’ technology?"
"Hardly," Black said.
"But what about the melting ice caps?"
"All that science is phony," Black said. "Those hacked E-mails should have proved that to any thinking person. And I should drive a Malibu? God forbid!"
"Well funny thing," Jackie replied. "I used to own a Malibu. But I'm done going green. Last night I went all in on a red Lexus. The racing model. Apparently you inspired me to get on with the rest of my life."
"Apparently," Black said.
"Dr. Black, I think your brother Bobby killed someone."
They got immediately stuck in stop and go traffic. Black was silent for several moments.
"Tell me about a time when you were afraid of something besides Viktor Bout," Black said.
"Dr. Black, did you hear what I just said?"
"Like you said earlier, Jackie, you have to answer my questions, but I don't have to answer yours."
"Okay. Well to answer yours, I remember being very afraid after the Northridge quake," Jackie said. "My house lost its chimney, and everybody was living in terror of those horrible aftershocks, do you remember them?"
"Do I! They scared the hell out of me! So when you felt afraid, what did you do?"
"What could I do? I went shopping. I drove over to Melrose and blew 150 bucks on a pair of red mules. I put them on and traipsed in and out of the shops. That pair of red mules was my way of showing everybody I was going to make it."
"Sometimes a pair of red mules is what it takes," Black agreed.
"It was the day I met Al," Jackie said. "The guy I wasted the last four-and-a-half years of my life with. I wandered into Wacko’s, and I saw a guy buying this inflatable Japanese monster and I laughed out loud. He looked at me and said, "Nice shoes", so I said, "Nice inflatable. Do you have a
nything else that inflates?" We both broke up laughing."
"That is hysterical," Black said, smiling.
"I think we laughed away the entire earthquake. Afterwards we felt hungry, so we caravanned over to Pink’s and gorged out on chili dogs. No Freudian symbolism there. It turned out he had a house in the district over in Gower gulch. The jerk drove a Rolls Royce. I was so impressed. That's where we first made love. In the back seat of his Rolls. We didn't even wait to go inside."
"How’d he make his money?"
"His dad started a big scrap iron business in the 30's, when all the dust-bowl people descended on this place in their falling-apart cars. Al succeeded him."
"So where is Al now?"
"Gone like an old shoe. Al was the reason I was at Gelson’s the night I got attacked. I used to be something of a gourmet cook and I was planning a special New Year’s Eve dinner for him. But instead I gotten beaten to death. After that, Al couldn’t handle it. He broke up with me."
"Ouch," Black said. "So what I am hearing is, when you find yourself feeling scared about something, you escape into a new relationship."
And I seem to be doing it again, Jackie thought. Should I tell her about Johnson?
"Somebody got into the garlic," Black said, changing the subject.
"Sorry. I had an amazing lunch today at this stir-fry joint near the police station."
"I’m glad to hear you’re eating. Especially garlic. You’ll find some breath mints in the glove box."
Jackie leaned forward and opened the glove box. The light in the box came on and illuminated the heavy black frame of a huge revolver. "Doctor Black!"
Vzjat’ na abordaž. The flashback raced through her mind like wildfire, forcing her back to the supermarket parking lot. My God, my God, she thought. She felt the man drop, knee-first, on top of her, felt his hideous weight, experienced the pain as his knees crushed her arms into the broken glass on the pavement.
"Jackie!" Black shouted.
"Whew," Jackie whispered. "The sight of your gun set me off."
"The gun triggered a flashback, because you were raped by one. But you are not helpless. Jackie. Listen to me. You are not helpless. I want you to reach forward and close the glove box."
After a moment, Jackie, with trembling hand, reached forward and shut the glove box and the gun was no longer in sight.
"Good," said Dr. Black. "Take some deep breaths. You did very well."
"I keep going back. It’s unfair. I’ve died a thousand times since it happened."
"You found the strength to close the glove box. It’s the second time you’ve fought back. Now you can see why I want Donna with you. And why I don’t want you driving just yet. Eventually, you will learn to handle the flashbacks better. There are techniques. The main thing right now is to understand that as bad as they are, they aren’t real, and they can’t kill you, and you can fight back and have a life."
Black suddenly swung the SUV left onto Hayvenhurst and into the Gelson’s supermarket parking lot.
"Dr. Black! What do you think you’re doing?"
"Jackie. We won’t leave the safety of the car. We’re going to drive by the spot where you were attacked."
"I can’t breathe."
"It's just the adrenaline. Slow down and take deep breaths. I’ll drive slowly around—and when you’re ready, you can point out the spot."
"But it’s not safe here."
"Six months ago it wasn’t safe. Today is different. Today it still isn’t safe, but you are with me. We are in a big safe vehicle with a gun. You have a bodyguard. So you are as safe as can be. Besides, you already had your flashback. You probably won’t have another for at least 12 more hours. You’re in a window, right now, where you can get out and make a life."
From another world Jackie’s cell phone twittered.
"Answer that," Black said.
"Jackie, it’s Donna. I’m over here at Vito’s place on Doheny. He’s just had a cancellation. He can see you at 4."
"I’m too tired to get my hair done. Doctor Black just shocked the hell out of me."
"You will get your gray frizzy hair to Vito’s at 4."
"Donna, I need you to come over here and bring me the limo and let me use that and you drive my car. I can’t drive. I’m still having flashbacks in broad daylight."
"Okay. I’ll be there shortly."
"Meanwhile, you’ll never believe what me and Dr. Black are doing right now. She just deliberately triggered me."
"Yes, I can believe it. I was the one who introduced you to her, remember? You can tell me all about it later."
Jackie heaved a sigh and returned the phone to her purse.
"You lied to me," Black said. "You drove yourself to the appointment. And Donna is nowhere around."
"Sorry," Dr. Black.
"Jackie, you could have killed yourself, or somebody else. You could have had a flashback while you were driving."
"I said I’m sorry. What the hell do you want from me? What? Do you want me to open a vein?" She looked out upon the ordinary day at the ordinary parking lot. "I’m sorry. It’s hard to look at this place. After all, I was clinically dead on this site for 7 minutes."
"Can you point out exactly where it happened?" Black said.
"Yeh. There it is—right by that third light stanchion, where the silver Bentley is parked. Whoever parked there has no idea they’re parked on top of several pints of my dried blood."
Black pulled up next to the Bentley. "Jackie, why don’t you close your eyes for a moment? Good. Rest for a minute. Now imagine yourself at the beach. It’s a sunny day, with a gentle offshore breeze. You’re lying on your towel, eyes closed, listening to the surf. You’re feeling rested and relaxed. You hear a small plane overhead. You open your eyes. A long banner trails from the rear of the plane. Can you see it?"
"Yes—I can see it."
"Now I want you to picture children with happy faces, pointing to the banner and jumping up and down and clapping with joy."
"They’re clapping. And jumping."
"As the plane gets closer, you can read the writing on the banner. The writing is in bold red letters. THIS IS JACKIE’S WEEK."
"Awww, Dr. Black. Nobody’s going to do that for me." Her voice came out childlike, quivering, her emotions overwhelmed at the thought of a life where she could be safe for a week, loved by happy children, with nothing to fear. The tears began coursing down her cheeks. Jackie opened her eyes and looked at Dr. Black.
"Then do it for yourself. Even a pervert like Warhol gives everybody fifteen minutes of fame," Black said. "But I think a week is better. Part of your recovery is to take back your world from the enemy. Sometimes a little meditation helps. By coming here today, you’ll start to understand that what happened to you was an isolated event in time and space. Things have moved on."
"I just now realized now why I bought the race car," Jackie said. "I bought it to show myself I’m still in the game. When Viktor Bout tried to kill me, he also took my car. Way deep down, I think I picked the Lexus to show myself he can’t take away my life."
"Judging by its color, you’re showing the whole world."
"Maybe I am. It’s funny, though. All this time, I thought I’d die from fright if I ever came near this place again. Right now, I feel strangely calm."
"Later this week, we’re going to get out and stand on the spot."
"I’ll never be able to do that."
"Yes you will."
"If I ever see you again after today."
"Any reason you shouldn’t?"
"Well, for one, you’re a real bitch."
Black laughed.
"That doesn’t offend you?"
"Not at all."
"Why not?"
"I’m proud to be a bitch. And by the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be a real bitch too. Meanwhile I want you to change the Ativan to one whole tablet 4 times a day. You need to keep this up until the Paxil kicks in. I hoped you’d cut down on your drinking, because I thi
nk that is one of the reasons the Ativan isn’t working. If you can’t cut back on the booze, a couple of weeks in de-tox is looming on your horizon."
"I’m sorry, Dr. Black. I ignored your advice about drinking, and Donna, and driving, and everything. From this point forward, I’ll try to do better. I’ll quit the booze. I know I can. I did it once for 90 days a long time ago. I’ll just start back in on the 12 Steps and take it one day at a time."
Chapter 17
"It’s a Pierre Jourdan Brut," the young woman said.
"It’s very bubbly," Jackie said. "I really shouldn't. I just promised my doctor I'd quit." She took a sip from the long stemmed flute. "It tickles the nose."
They stood in the brick-floored kitchen at Vito’s of Beverly Hills, a 1940’s Tudor-style on Doheny just off Sunset, with pointy roof lines and a wooden arch door. The interior of the place had been gutted and remodeled to meet the demands of business and yet somehow retained a homey feel throughout.
"I’m Scotia. I’ll be working with you this afternoon. You are Donna’s sister, correct?"
"Yep," Jackie said. "I’m here at my sister’s insistence."
"Your sister was right," Scotia said. Your hair is end-stage."
"Donna thinks Vito can fix it."
"You’ll like Vito. More importantly, your hair will like him. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go draw your bath."
"My bath? I’m only here for a haircut."
"Honestly dear, not to be mean, I don’t know if you just came from a workout or what, but you’re more than a little ripe. Let’s face it. And it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to let me take those sweats you’re wearing and just burn them."
"You know, now that I think about it, I haven’t been in the tub since yesterday. And that wasn’t a real bath."
Jackie sat down at the oval antique table beside the kitchen hearth and sipped some more champagne. She fingered the lilies in the vase on the table. Real, not silk, and very fresh. Her eyes feasted on the mantle collection of white ironstone pottery—pitchers and crocks—filled with artichokes and limes. The air was an olfactory ambrosia, heavy with scents from bowls on the table brimming with fruit, and a big vanilla candle mingling its scent with the sweet smell of the lilies.
Jackie's Week Page 7
