Vi still lived in the same place in Studio City. I drove over there, feeling vaguely sick at the idea of seeing her again. Or maybe it was the egg sandwich. Melly had been like a big sister to me, but Violet was the girl I wanted for keeps. I’d wanted us to buy a house together, the whole deal. The three years I did in Chino were because of a punch I threw while defending her kid brother. She was also the one who dumped me just before my arraignment, and I hadn’t even heard her name since.
I had to park two blocks from her place, but I managed to find a spot. Her neighborhood was so familiar that it felt eerie. Walking down this same sidewalk felt like wearing a costume, as though I was disguising myself as a younger me. I went up her same front walk to her same row of mailbox slots. I even remembered her apartment code. I buzzed her. Her voice, when she answered, sounded thin.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Ray,” I said, the way I’d said it many times before. Then I remembered there were five years between us, and I added, “Ray Lilly.”
She didn’t answer right away. She did press the gate buzzer. I pushed the gate open and went inside. The courtyard and little pool looked the same; no one was swimming. She was on the third floor, and I headed up the stairs.
She was already standing in the open doorway, waiting for me. It took me a moment to recognize her. She looked smaller and thinner than I remembered. Her thick brown curls were pulled back into a simple ponytail, and she wore no makeup at all. Like Melly’s, her skin looked lighter than it had, although she’d always been lighter than Melly. She no longer wore the little stud in the left side of her nose.
I used to tease her when she looked this way; I’d always liked the hair, makeup, and shoes—what Vi had called hyper-girly. Now I felt embarrassed by the memory, but I didn’t feel much else.
“Melly warned me you might show up here.”
Warned her? I didn’t have any reaction to that. After a second look, I realized she had dark circles under her eyes.
“Ray, you look terrible.”
“It was a long drive,” I said.
“Do you want to come in? You can’t stay, but …”
“I can’t stay, no, but I would like to come in.”
The first thing I noticed was how cool it was in the air-conditioned apartment. The second thing was the toys. There were several different types of dolls lying about: rag dolls, Barbies, baby dolls in diapers. A huge dollhouse stood in the corner. Beneath the toys, all the furniture was the same threadbare yard-sale stuff she’d had years before.
I glanced at the couch, remembering all the things we’d done there. Then a little girl came out of the kitchen, a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich in her hand. Her skin was much lighter than Vi’s—nearly golden—and her hair was just a little too dark to be called blond.
“Mommy, can I have a hot dog?”
Vi bent down to her. “You already have your lunch, sweetie. Right in your hand.”
“So?”
“Don’t answer me that way,” Vi said, a note of warning in her voice.
The girl stepped around her mom. “Hi, I’m Jasmin. Who are you?”
“My name is Ray. You’re a very big girl, aren’t you?” My voice sounded hollow and strange.
“Yes, I’m five.”
Vi bent down to steer her toward the kitchen. “Jazzy, eat at the table, okay? If you’re still hungry after your sandwich, you can have some raisins. If you behave.”
Raisins were the only incentive she needed. She turned and ran into the kitchen.
Vi looked me in the eye. “She’s not yours.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. “No?”
“No. And I know you can do the math, Ray, but it was a long time ago.”
If I added nine months onto five years, it was pretty clear that she could have been mine. Vi had always been careful with me, saying she wanted to wait for kids, but apparently she’d had someone else on the side. Someone she was not so careful with. “Okay.”
“That’s it? Okay? Two years we were together, and you’re not going to shout at me? Call me a whore with my little girl in the next room to hear? You’re not going to take a swing at me? You’re not angry or hurt or nothing?”
“When did I ever take a swing at you?” But I knew that wasn’t what she meant, exactly. Maybe I should have been angry or hurt—she was the woman I’d planned to spend the rest of my life with—but I was secretly relieved. If Vi had stuck with me, she might have been caught up in the society, too. She’d dodged a bullet when she dumped me. “It’s been a long time for me, too.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, a sure sign that I was pissing her off. “Fair enough. What did you come here for?”
“Melly came to me and told me she and Arne and everyone was in trouble, and that it’s my fault.” I almost said I want to save them. “I need to find out what’s going on.”
“Well, I don’t know anything about it. I’m not a part of that anymore.”
“Fair enough. Where can I find Arne?”
She scowled and looked around the little apartment. For a moment I thought she would throw me out without an answer. Instead, she said: “You could have called me, you know. You could have written me a letter.”
“I thought you didn’t want me to call” was the only answer I had. I didn’t mention the three years I’d spent in jail without hearing a word from her, or that she’d specifically told me to go away.
“You could have tried anyway.” When I didn’t respond, she shrugged her bony shoulders and dismissed all of it. “He has a new Bigfoot Room. I don’t know where it is, though. I have a straight job now, and I’m a goddamn citizen. You should ask Tyalee. I think he’s still in touch with all of them.”
“Where—”
“Ty has a straight job, too. He’s a trainer at a gym now.”
“Do you know the name of the place?”
“Nope. But it’s across the street from that jungle restaurant. Remember that place you took me to, where everything came with sweet potatoes and mangoes?”
“I remember.”
“His gym is in the shopping mall across the street. Don’t ask me about the others. I have nothing to do with those people now.”
“Thank you.” There should have been more for me to say, but I wasn’t sure how to come at it. “How’s Mouse? I mean, how’s Tommy?” Mouse was Violet’s younger brother, and I’d forgotten that we weren’t supposed to use his nickname anymore.
“Gone,” she said. “He skipped town.”
I knew her well enough to know she was holding something back, but if she didn’t want to talk, I couldn’t force her. I supposed I didn’t have the right, not after five years, but I was still concerned about her. “Are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “You’re the one who looks like a hungry ghost.”
As I went to the door, Jasmin came out of the kitchen. She watched me leave with a careful expression and, just before the door shut behind me, I heard her say very clearly: “That man scared me.”
It was nearly noon, and L.A. felt like a blast furnace. I walked slowly to my car. There was no way I could avoid a ring of sweat under my arms and back, but I could keep it small by going slow.
Unfortunately, my Escort was a Seattle car. The wiper blades were brand new, but it didn’t have air-conditioning.
It was a short two miles to the restaurant, and the gym was exactly where she’d said it’d be. The name was EVERYTHING ATHLETIC, and a sign in the glass door announced that it was the home of the founder of the original “Cardio-eira” classes. There were no windows, so I just pushed my way inside.
A sign at the front desk said that all of Justin Gage’s Cardio-eira classes had been canceled until the end of the month. As I was reading it, a pale young woman with dyed-black hair at the front desk asked if she could help me. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her face was puffy. She had been crying.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, more out of surprise
than concern.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I just … Are you a member?”
“I’m not. I’ve never been here before.”
“Okay. You should know that the Cardio-eira classes have been canceled, and we don’t know when they’ll be starting again. If ever.”
“What happened?” I asked, because she seemed to expect me to.
“Justin was assaulted last night. Right out in the parking lot. He’s in the hospital, and we don’t know … he’s in bad shape.”
“I’m very sorry,” I said. “Did they catch the guy who did it?”
“No,” she said. “They have no idea who did it.”
A heavily muscled black woman stepped in to join the conversation. “We do have other trainers here.” I noticed that her name tag read MANAGER along the bottom. “And while they may not have the same infomercial cachet that Justin has, they’re really quite excellent.”
“What about Tyalee Murphy? Is he here?”
The manager was carefully neutral. “He’s finishing up with a member at the moment. Are you a friend of his?”
“I’d like to talk to him, if I could.”
“Why don’t you have a seat?”
She gestured toward an overstuffed little couch beside a rack of swim goggles. I sat. The manager typed something into a handheld device without looking at me. The weepy employee handed out keys and towels to people who entered, and collected them from people who left. I heard the sad tale of Justin Gage several more times over the course of five minutes. He was apparently a much-loved figure, and no one had any idea what had happened to him, and wasn’t this city just awful?
Eventually, a tall black man rushed into the lobby and said: “You paged me?”
The manager pointed toward me, but I was already standing out of the chair. Ty turned toward me and looked me up and down. He didn’t recognize me.
He looked different, too. He’d shaved his head and his chin and, while he’d always been addicted to the gym, now he was almost a parody of fitness. His uniform—a black polyester shirt with the gym logo over the heart—was tight enough to show off all the curves of his muscles.
“Ty, it’s me. Ray Lilly.”
“Ray!” He almost shouted. He stepped toward me, and for a moment I thought he’d hug me. Instead, he wrapped his gloved hand around mine and pumped, smiling broadly. “Good to see you again, man. Good to see you. What brings you back to town?”
I was almost sorry to answer him. “A little trouble, unfortunately.” Melly had said I’d killed him, but he didn’t look unhappy. I needed to find out what he knew, especially where the magic had come from, but I couldn’t do it in a crowded gym.
“Hey, if there’s anything I can do, name it.” He glanced back through the door to the workout area beyond, as though he hadn’t meant to promise so much. “I mean, things are a little busy right now …”
I wasn’t sure what to make of him. We’d always gotten along, but I didn’t think we were close enough for him to be so glad to see me again. “Ty, I’m looking for the new Bigfoot Room.”
“No problem! It’s at a place called the Roasted Seal over on Kalibel Ave. Remember that Baja Fresh where Mouse puked in the toilet? Right there. I’m not part of that scene anymore, you understand. I still know the guys, but I don’t do stuff with them anymore. Not much, anyway.”
Everyone had grown up and turned into citizens. Except me. “Thanks.”
“Listen, um …” He glanced back into the workout area. “I’m a little busy right now. We’re short-handed today and I’m covering another dude’s clients. Plus, I really need the money.” He laughed a little at himself, and at the slightly desperate note in his voice. “But I’ll catch up with you soon, okay? You’re okay, aren’t you? You look a little worn thin. Take care of yourself in this heat. And thank you, man. Thank you.”
He checked his watch and rushed back inside. I headed out to my car.
I sat behind the wheel and closed my eyes. I’d taken Vi to the Baja Fresh many times and I could picture the intersection clearly, but I needed a moment to remember where that intersection was in relation to this one.
Then I remembered and I opened my eyes. Out of perverse curiosity, I angled the rearview mirror so I could see myself. Jasmin and Ty were right; I looked bad. I needed a week’s worth of sleep, but I wasn’t going to get it.
Ten minutes later, I was parking outside a church. The Baja Fresh was gone, but the other businesses—a sushi place, a dry cleaners, a shoe store—were the same. The Roasted Seal was just down the street. The front was made entirely of glass, but the view inside was blocked by an amateurish painting of a sad-faced seal perched on jagged rocks. The seal looked at me as if I’d ruined its day with hairspray and car exhaust. In the dust above the door, someone had traced BIGFOOT ROOM.
I pushed the door open and went inside.
It wasn’t as dark as I expected. In fact, the place was almost nice. There were circular black tables seeded around the main floor with a surprising amount of space between them. Each table had a little light shining down on it. Ambiance.
There was a row of booths at the far end of the room and a bar against the wall behind me. Everything was polished black stone and hexagonal floor tiles. There was also sawdust on the floor, which didn’t seem to fit.
I glanced at the bartender and realized he was watching me with a tight expression. Maybe I didn’t look like the trustworthy type. He only had one other customer: a rumpled-looking guy who must have run out of shampoo a month before. He was also watching me, but at least he tried to be subtle about it.
I walked farther into the room and saw him.
Arne sat in a back booth just beside the fire exit. He had a cup of coffee and a smart phone in front of him. He wore a black button-down shirt and chinos, and his curly blond hair was cropped short. Near as I could tell, he was alone and he wasn’t surprised to see me.
I started toward him. Lenard suddenly stepped out of a wait station that had been built like an alcove. Before I could react, he had his hands on me, shaking me roughly as he patted me down. I tensed up but held myself rigidly still. I wasn’t here to fight.
Time had not been kind to Lenard. He had smoker’s wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, and his whole body had gone pear-shaped. “Well, well, Raymundo,” he said. “Imagine seeing you here.” I looked down at the shaved stubble over his scalp; he was going bald in little patches near his forehead.
He finished by checking for an ankle holster. Of course he didn’t find anything. He stood and shrugged to Arne. I was cleared to go.
“Good to see you, Lenard,” I said.
He looked at me sidelong as he backed into his alcove. “You look like shit, baby.”
“I know it.”
I walked by him. Arne was sitting in his booth with his arms folded across his chest. He wasn’t even going to shake my hand.
“Arne,” I said. “You don’t look surprised to see me.”
He smiled without a trace of good feeling. “You always had a pretty good sense of direction, Ray. How’d it take you two years to get from the gates of Chino to me?”
“I got on the wrong bus.”
“The bus to Seattle. I heard. I’ve been following your name in the news. It’s very interesting, all the scrapes you’ve gotten into. What happened in Washaway? You can tell me, buddy.”
“Caramella said you were in trouble.”
He didn’t like that I’d changed the subject. “Do I have to remind you? You used to be smarter than that. I spent two hundred and fifty a month on you while you were inside. Every month, I sent a check to a sweet little lady in Boyle Heights so her son and his pals would babysit you.”
And now he was challenging me. The funny thing was that I didn’t feel like playing that game anymore. I’d seen too much to be afraid of Arne, and he knew it.
“Arne—”
“Because I knew prison would break you.” He was letting his anger show openly now. “I knew you cou
ldn’t handle the misery. You were never tough enough up here for that.” He tapped his temple with his index finger.
I let him have his say. After he finished, we stared at each other for a second. Then I said: “Caramella said it was my fault.”
Arne laughed. There was something desperate and helpless in it. “Jesus. Ray. Ray.” He looked at the phone on the table, then slipped it into his pocket. “Okay. It’s time. Come on, Ray. You’re going to do a job for me.”
CHAPTER TWO
Lenard came up behind me. “You’re taking him?”
“He’s here and Ty isn’t,” Arne said, “so yeah. I sure as hell can’t take you. Stay here just in case. He only has to drive a car—as long as he doesn’t point the grill at Seattle and take off, he’ll be fine. Besides, if I show up with you, they’ll probably make us mow the lawn or something.”
Lenard laughed. “Fuck you. Those guys have Japs do their landscaping. They’d make me patch the roof.”
“I’ll be two hours at least. Probably three. Go into the kitchen while I’m gone and wash some dishes. Make yourself useful.”
“Hey, I was born in this country, just like you. I’ll do a day’s work when I see you do one.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Arne said. “No shit, Lenard. Be careful.”
“Always.”
Arne turned to me. “Let’s go for a drive, Ray. You owe me.”
He started toward the front door, and I followed. I’d always trailed after him, going from one place to another. It felt natural to let him lead me around, and the feeling—that if I did what he wanted he’d eventually give me what I needed—was startlingly familiar.
And he was right. I did owe him.
We went into the street. Arne was more watchful than he’d ever been, and I wondered why. We walked to a Land Rover, and he circled it carefully before he got in. I sat in the passenger seat and aimed the air-conditioning vents at my face. He pulled into traffic.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see.”
“No. Seriously. Where?”
Circle of Enemies: A Twenty Palaces Novel Page 2
