by R. J. Kaiser
“Criminal stuff?” Hernan asked.
Troy shrugged. Again Hernan and Ginger looked at each other. This time they weren’t smiling.
“Specifically what?” Hernan asked.
“I’m not ready to share specifics, but I will be soon.”
After a pause, Ginger said, “Mind if I ask you something, Troy? How come you hate your old man so much?”
The question made him smile. How did you explain a lifelong hatred? To the world Mac McGowan might not be the asshole Troy knew, but the world didn’t know what Troy knew. Nor was he about to share his knowledge— not until the right moment.
But that didn’t keep him from thinking about it. The Mac McGowan he knew was a murdering sonovabitch. Of course, Troy wasn’t supposed to know that. No one was. But one Saturday morning when he was fifteen he’d found out the true story.
It had happened by accident. Bonny was away and Mac planned to come over to talk to Stella about finances. Troy, who avoided seeing Mac whenever he could, planned to spend the day with a friend who only lived a few blocks away. At one point in the afternoon Troy returned home to get his joystick so he and his friend could play a new video game. He didn’t want to see Mac, whose car was still in the drive, so he sneaked in the back. That’s when he heard them arguing. His mother was crying and Troy heard her utter those fateful words, words that had haunted him ever since.
“I wasn’t the one who killed Aubrey. It was you, Mac. And don’t you ever forget it!”
Troy had borne that secret bitterly and with resentment, considering what else he knew about Aubrey St. George. The irony was that neither his mother nor Mac were aware he knew the truth. How could he hate Mac McGowan? How could he not?
“Ginger,” he said calmly, “let’s just say I have reasons.” He checked his watch. “But I gotta get rolling. You guys give this thing some thought and we’ll talk soon.” He headed for the front door and Hernan followed.
Troy put his hand on the doorknob and stopped. In a low voice he said, “I know you’re hot to get out of the gigolo business and I also know you’re willing to take chances. Find out if Ginger would be willing to risk jail for a big break, will you?”
“You’re not bullshitting about this, are you?”
“I’m tired of screwing around. I’m going for it, Hernan.” Troy opened the door and went out. Hernan stepped out with him. The apartment manager, Mrs. Tuttle, was across the way, sweeping the walk.
Hernan said, “Oh, by the way, Troy, I just remembered. Mrs. Tuttle told me some guy was poking around this morning, asking about you.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. She said he was English, or at least had a strong accent like Michael Caine.”
“And he was asking about me?”
“That’s what she said. The guy wanted to know who you were, what you did.”
Troy shook his head. “God, I don’t know who it could be. Did she say what he looked like?”
“Middle-aged. Sort of dark-complected. She said his accent didn’t really go with his looks.”
“I wonder if he could be Indian?”
“I don’t know, but I wondered the same thing myself.”
Troy pondered the news, looking for danger, but seeing nothing obvious. “I haven’t the vaguest,” Troy said.
“Well, keep your eyes open.”
“You, too, sport.”
Troy headed off to his car. Moments later he pulled out of the parking lot. By chance he glanced into his rearview mirror and saw a car that had been parked across from the complex make a U-turn and follow him down the street.
West Hollywood
I still don’t think it’s Ricky pulling this stuff,” Jade told Ruthie on the phone, “but just in case it is, I’d better talk to him and straighten him out. Do you think you can get a message to him?”
“Probably. You want a phone number or do you want me to set up a meeting?”
“I guess face-to-face is best.”
“I’m thinking like on neutral ground, not his turf,” Ruthie said.
“Where do you suggest?”
“How about here at my place? Maybe I can have a brother or two just happen to be here.”
Jade considered that. “I suppose that’s better than at my place or the zoo.”
“When you free?”
“Anytime. I’ll make it a priority.”
“If you don’t, somebody might get hurt for real.”
“This is so unlike him, Ruthie.”
“If not him, who?”
“That’s the point, I guess.”
“I’ll talk to Ricky,” Ruthie said.
“You’re a doll.”
“So, except for getting your tires slashed, how’d it go with the big boss man?”
“Mac’s really nice. He bought me four new tires when the tire guy said they were too worn to be repaired.”
“He bought them for you, just like that?”
“It’ll come out of my retainer fee, but it saved me advancing money I don’t have.”
“What’s he like?”
“Nice.”
“Nice ain’t nothing, girl. Mr. Rogers is nice. Big Bird is nice.”
“All men don’t have to be dripping with gold chains, devilish smirks and sex appeal to be interesting, Ruthie. Been there, done that, don’t forget. Do you have any idea how many assholes I’ve known?”
“Yeah. Tons, same as me.”
“My mother decorated our house with them. And then there was Ricky. I’ll never look twice at a pretty boy again. Mac is a refreshing change, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Right. He’s ‘nice,’ your new favorite word.”
“You’d have to meet him to know what I mean.”
“Maybe you’ll invite me to the wedding.”
Jade laughed. “I’m just working for the man.”
“So?”
“So, it’s strictly business. I wouldn’t want it any other way. I was just commenting on what a pleasant experience it was dealing with him. He’s the kind of guy you feel you can trust…maybe it’s some kind of quiet strength.” She cleared her throat, kind of embarrassed. “Haven’t you ever felt that way about someone?”
Ruthie laughed. “What you’re saying, girlfriend, is that the dude is rich.”
“Oh, Ruthie, it doesn’t have anything to do with his money. He could be one of the guys who builds his pools and it would be the same.”
“That I don’t believe. Unless you’re saying you got a crush on him.”
“Absolutely not. I just met a man who’s different, decent. And, considering all the shit in my life, I just thought my best friend would like to know I actually had a positive experience with a man.”
“And I’m glad, Jade. Honest. I couldn’t be more happy for you. But as you well know, I’m one of those show-me-the-money kind of girls. I mean, Big Bird is fine, but we both know every dude’s got a bottom line and every sister better know what that bottom line is. Don’t forget, it was me calling out warnings about Ricky.”
“This time you don’t have to worry. Believe me, romance is the farthest thing from my mind.”
Beverly Hills
Stella sat at her little French antique writing desk, took her checkbook from her drawer and opened it. She glanced over at her son. Troy was in a navy blue suit and tie. She was absolutely amazed. She didn’t even know he had a dark suit.
“Three hundred dollars,” she said. “You must have quite an evening planned.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“A very special girl, obviously.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ll bring her by some time to meet your mother.”
“Mom, it’s not like that.”
Stella looked up from her writing. “What do you mean, it’s not like that? You’re going to wait until after your second child is born before you introduce me?”
“Ma, give me a break. I’m not eloping. I’m going out to dinne
r, no big deal.”
“With a mystery woman.”
Her son gave her one of his quirky grins, handsome devil that he was. “You always said a man should be mysterious, didn’t you? If I gotta keep the girls guessing, why not you?”
“Because I write the checks.”
“All right,” Troy said, showing his annoyance. “Her name’s Ashley and she’s twenty-three. Satisfied?”
“Ashley? Is she in your acting class?”
“No, I met her at a party.”
“You’re serious about her?”
“Ma, we’re just friends. Okay?”
Stella shook her head. “Mac and I have our differences, Lord knows, but I’ve got to say this about him, he was always honorable, he never lied to me.”
“As far as you know.”
She gave her son a look. But she wouldn’t chastise him, even though she’d long thought Mac had deserved better from the boy. Some conflicts were just too elemental to overcome, apparently. Troy always responded to issues of his self-interest, however, and so she decided to take the conversation in that direction.
“It doesn’t look like Mac is going to step up and help us with Amal and Venita,” she said. “So perhaps it is time for us to go to him on bended knee.”
“Don’t you mean time for me to go to him on bended knee?”
“You are the stumbling block, Troy.”
“No, Mom, you’re the stumbling block. I’m the battleground. This has always been about you, not about me.”
Troy, she realized, was no longer afraid to tell her what he thought. She laid her hand aside her cheek, realizing he was no longer a child. She couldn’t patronize or manipulate him, and she wasn’t finding it easy to be a mother to a headstrong young man. “Maybe Mac needs a victory.”
“I’m not going to kiss his ass. All he wants is to manipulate and control us.”
“Troy, you’ve got to give something to get something.”
“Not with him. He pays and expects to have his way. Sure, I could make the guy happy—by accepting a dog instead of a cat.”
“You’ve never forgiven him for that, have you?”
“You sure did. Sorry to have to say this, but he owns you.”
Stella shook her head. “You don’t understand Mac’s and my relationship, even if you think you do.”
In response to that, Troy smiled.
“You don’t,” Stella insisted.
“What makes you so sure?”
“Did you know that somebody tried to kill Mac and me Friday night?”
“What?”
Stella studied her son long and hard. “It’s true. Down on Wilshire. We were walking back to the car after having dinner and a man came by in an old car and fired shots at us. Fortunately he missed, but he was trying to kill us.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“No, I’m not shitting you. It happened.”
“Did you call the police?”
Again she studied him. “No, we didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Mac had his reasons.”
Troy looked at her and she looked at him. She waited, watching him closely.
“What?” he said.
She said nothing.
“Mom?”
She still said nothing.
“What are you thinking? That I had something to do with it?”
“Neither of us can figure out who would have reason to see us dead.”
Troy turned purple. “So naturally you assumed it was me! Is that what he said?” Troy stammered. “Did he say I was behind it?”
“No, of course not. Your name never once came up.”
Troy paced back and forth. “Well, you just said it, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t accuse you, Troy, but I confess I was curious how you’d react when I brought it up.”
“Thanks a lot, Mom. That’s a real vote of confidence.”
“You’ve said some terrible things about Mac. And you are his heir.”
“Well, considering I’m not absolutely sure he hasn’t written me out of his will, I’d be taking a hell of a risk for nothing, wouldn’t I?”
“I’m sure he hasn’t disowned you,” Stella said. “He would have told me.”
“So what are you saying? That I can go ahead and put out a contract on him because I am in the will?”
“Troy, what a terrible thing to say!”
“How does it feel, Ma?”
“You know that was not my intention. I just wanted to see how you felt. Not just about him, but about me.”
“Well, I’m sorry somebody took a shot at you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“I didn’t want it to be you, I didn’t think it was you, but I wanted to be absolutely sure.”
“I don’t know whether that says more about you or me, Ma.”
“I’m not a bad person,” she said. “And for that matter your father is not the monster you make him out to be.”
Troy flushed. “He’s not my father, goddamn it. He only thinks he is, remember?”
“Troy!” Stella looked toward the door. “You promised never to mention that. And don’t forget we are not alone.”
“Bonny is not eavesdropping. She knows everything going on in this house, anyway. Without trying. I wouldn’t be surprised if she doesn’t know about this.”
“Well, she doesn’t!”
“Okay, fine.”
“I never should have told you.”
“You didn’t. I guessed. Remember? I was what, twelve or thirteen?”
“I confirmed it.”
“So big deal. I’ve never liked the bastard.”
“If it weren’t for him, you and I would be a lot hungrier, Troy.”
“If it weren’t for him, I’d have my real father. I’d be the son of a famous star. Doors would open that are closed to Mac McGowan’s kid. Neither of us would have to beg for crumbs from a goddamn swimming-pool contractor who doesn’t have an artistic bone in his body. Or, is getting your ten thou a month from Mac all you need to be happy, Mom?”
“You know I want this movie deal as much or more than you do. It would be nice if Mac solved the problem by investing with Amal and Venita, but he’s certainly within his rights to refuse. We need to convince him, that’s all.”
“It won’t happen by kissing his ass, I guarantee you.”
“He needs to see it to be in his interest as well as ours.”
“How you going to do that, Mom?”
“I haven’t given up. I still have a few cards to play.”
“Well, good luck.”
Stella was getting annoyed with Troy’s negativism. “Saying no to everything accomplishes nothing.”
“I’m being realistic. Anyway, maybe I have a few cards of my own.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind.”
“I want to know,” Stella insisted.
“You have your secrets and I have mine,” he replied.
“I have no secrets from you.”
“Oh?”
“That’s right.”
“Ma, give it a rest. You’ve already accused me of being a murderer, now you’re taking me for a fool.”
“I’ve done no such thing!”
“All right, fine. Truce. You do your thing and I’ll do mine. The main thing is we’ve got to keep each other informed. We’ll sink or swim together, you know.”
Stella stared at him, as she had so often in the past, seeing so much of Aubrey in him. Sometimes it actually scared her. But Troy had his dreams, like her. He was also her son.
“So, are you going to give me the check, or aren’t you?”
Stella sighed, signed the check and tore it out of the checkbook. She held it up between index and middle fingers. Troy came over and took it from her, gave her a peck on the cheek and said, “Thanks.”
After he left, she sat at her desk, looking at her hands, hands that were no longer youthful. Oh, she’d had treatments to bleach the spots, and God
knows how many other treatments to keep things in check. Age was not a battle she would win, though. She knew that. But neither did it mean she had to give up. She still had this opportunity with Amal that fate had given her—perhaps the final opportunity of her life. And if her time on this planet was to count for something, she couldn’t let it slip away. She refused to let it slip away!
Drawing in a long slow breath to fortify herself, Stella reached over and picked up the phone, then dialed.
“I have another errand for you to run,” she said when there was a response on the other end. “Can you come tonight?”
The answer was affirmative. She hung up the receiver. Then she opened the drawer and removed a sheet of note-paper. Her hand trembled as she picked up her pen. Closing her eyes, she thought of herself as Hilda Grimsley in On Distant Shores. The image was as clear as it could be. It was clearer than the image of Judy Miller, clearer than that of Stella St. George or Stella McGowan, and it was every bit as clear as Stella Hampton. She understood destiny. Destiny spoke to her in a loud, clear voice.
Pacific Palisades
Troy hadn’t noticed the car following him until he’d crossed the San Diego Freeway on Sunset Boulevard. Then it became obvious he had a tail. Because of the darkness, he couldn’t get a good look at the vehicle or the driver, but the headlights stayed right with him. He wondered who the hell it could be, then remembered what Hernan had said about the dark-complected guy with the English accent. If that’s who was behind him, it had to have something to do with Amal and Venita.
Just to be sure he was actually being followed, he made a couple of turns off Sunset, then came back on. The tail kept pace. Troy was baffled. And annoyed. Then he recalled his mother’s story about somebody taking a shot at her and Mac, and he wondered if they all hadn’t been sucked into something—something more than they’d bargained for.
At first he thought his mother had made up the story about the shooting, just to see how he’d react. But then he realized it was true. It did annoy him that she’d think he was behind it, even though it wasn’t as far-fetched as he led her to believe. More than once he’d thought how, if Mac was dead, his life would dramatically change for the better. But that didn’t make him a killer. Fantasies didn’t count. The idea did have growing appeal, however.
The headlights behind him flashed in his mirror and Troy’s attention was again drawn to the car following him. Whoever it was back there, it wasn’t the person who’d taken a potshot at Mac. And the only person who might have an interest in him would be somebody connected with Venita and Amal. What else did he have going on in his life? Well, there was only one way to find out who it was. Before leaving Sunset to drive up the hill to Venita’s place, Troy pulled over and stopped. The car followed suit, stopping maybe fifty feet back. The headlights of the vehicle went off.
