Boulevard

by Bill Guttentag

  Jimmy looked at her, and in the quiet of his mind, took a picture. What they had was good in its own way, but it wasn’t the real deal—for either of them. And he always wanted to have this snapshot of Dani—so beautiful—in his head.

  Jimmy stood at the kitchen table making tea. Dani came in wearing blue checkered pajama bottoms and a long Angels t-shirt, and from behind, kissed him on the cheek.

  “Jimmy, sweetie, I’ve been thinking …”

  It’s coming, Jimmy thought, it’s coming.

  “That program sounds great. And I really want to do it. But next week I got these two auditions.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah. One’s for a horror film. I would play a sorority girl. It’s probably terrible, but some of those films are really cool. The other’s an open call for this Fox pilot where the star’s girlfriend from sixth grade comes to LA to visit him after all this time apart. And she’s from North Carolina—pretty near. So that’s good for me, right? …”

  Right, Jimmy thought. In the horror flick she’d be topless in the locker room, hot tub, bedroom, sauna, someplace—and then get killed by thirty knives flying at her, or from a bucket of acid, a machete. And the chances of Dani getting the part? Slim to nil. The sitcom was an open call. A thousand girls would be going for it. Lots with real experience. All stunners. Dani’s chances: less than nil.

  “What do you think I should do?” she said.

  “It’s tough. But if you’re gonna get out, this is opportunity knocking.”

  “I want to. You know that. But … I dunno, maybe I could do it next semester. Give myself another couple of months to try and make it. I figure for the sitcom they’re looking for someone to play like they’re from North Carolina, but I practically am. I think I’ve got a real shot at this one.”

  “Sure—you never know.”

  “Thanks, baby.”

  Jimmy passed Dani her tea. He was beat. He thought about adding brandy into his. It was something he enjoyed. But after seeing Mary on the Boulevard, he didn’t feel much like enjoying himself right now.

  “How was your night?” Jimmy said.

  “Like always. Except Sean was even more on a jerk than usual.”

  “Now that’s hard.”

  “He’s was saying when the gambling comes in, he’s really gonna be kicking ass.”

  “He’s probably right about that.”

  “He’s gonna put in a special club room,” Dani said.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s like a private club within the club.”

  “Private? What do you have to do to get into this exclusive club—pay an extra fifty at the door?”

  “Basically.”

  “And what do you get there?” Jimmy said.

  “He’s calling it lap dance plus.”

  “Plus what?”

  “Hand jobs, blow jobs. Probably more. But I’ll be long gone before it happens.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on the asshole. Sounds like he’s about to go way over the line.”

  “He’s already is, with all the underagers. He just hired two more.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sure. That’s what guys want. Nineteen, twenty—that’s too old, now. They want fifteen, sixteen. It’s sick.”

  “How many girls like that does he have?”

  “Five, maybe. You met one of them before—Tara. Remember her?”

  “Sorta.”

  “She’s a cutie. But she’s doing so many dates she’s ready to quit dancing.”

  “How old’s she?”

  “Sixteen. But looks younger. She’s really in demand.”

  “You know who she’s dating?”

  “Guys with serious money.”

  “You think she’d talk to me?” Jimmy said.

  “You’re a cop. She has to.”

  “No. Really talk.”

  “About the dead fellah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought about that already. I asked her if she knew him.”

  “You did?” Jimmy was surprised and touched. “Really?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks, baby—you’ve been hanging around me too long.” Jimmy said.

  “Way too long,” she said with a smile.

  “What did she say?” Jimmy said.

  “That she didn’t know him.”

  “Think she was lying?”

  “I couldn’t really tell.”

  44

  Casey

  Everyone was back on the wall except Tulip, who had a date. Casey knew she had to get out. Otherwise she’d look back and think she was the idiot that stayed around when any sane person would’ve bolted. She thought about Montana. She’d work at a preschool in some pretty, little town. She’d take long walks with the kids and bring them through a beautiful field to a small stream at the edge of the woods. In the stream there’d be little frogs. She’d crouch down and put her hands into the water and catch a frog, then hold it in her cupped hands for the children to see. They would surround her, a little scared, but also curious. An adventurous little girl with light-blonde hair in a long braid would bravely reach over and gently stroke the frog. She’d giggle, loving it. A couple of boys would follow her lead, and then the whole group would take turns. The kids would feel brave and be happy and when she’d release the frog back into the water, her kids would call out “Bye frog,” “Bye-bye froggie.” The frog would disappear up the stream, and Casey and her kids would head back across the field, stopping to pick the prettiest purple wildflowers—

  “Yo! Where’d you go?” It was Dog-Face, breaking the spell, as he yelled across the street to Dragon as she crossed from the other side of the Boulevard.

  As Dragon weaved through cars stuck in traffic, she was bouncing a tennis ball.

  “To the Bev’ Center,” she said. She fired the ball at Dog-Face. “Catch.”

  Dog-Face’s right arm shot up to grab it and he threw it right back.

  “I never heard of anyone going down that far,” Dog-Face said.

  “You never heard of lots of things.”

  “That’s a hike,” June Bug said. “What’s down there?”

  “Dunno. I figured it was someplace no one else would be …” She tossed the ball to June Bug who caught it and lobbed it to Dream. “So, like, why not?”

  Casey thought the Bev’ Center sounded like a pretty good idea. At least it wasn’t the same stupid wall. Coming right at her was the tennis ball. She reached up with her left hand and tossed it back. Dragon had a funny look on her face … but sure she would, having to deal with idiots like Dog-Face, who thought walking a couple of miles to the Bev’ Center was like going to Japan.

  “I think it’s weird going down there,” Dog-Face said.

  “Let it go, Dog,” Dream said.

  “Yeah?” Dragon said, “then check this out—”

  Dragon dug into her pocket and came up with a killer haul.

  “Not fucking bad!” Jumper said. “Someone gave you a twenty?”

  “They didn’t even speak English.”

  “Shit, nice going.”

  “Mickey D.’s?” Dragon said.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely!” Jumper yelled.

  Everyone was off the wall ready to go. Casey too, even though she hated the place. But it was better than sitting alone. Then Dragon turned to her. “You wanna get a salad or something while they go to Mickey’s?”

  It was the best offer she had in days.

  As he headed away, Jumper said, “Where’s Paul been?”

  “With this rich dude—like one giant date,” Casey said.

  “The dude have any friends?” Jumper opened his hands wide, but then turned, hearing someone running—and saw Rancher, looking even crazier than usual.

  “Lookin’ ratty, dude. Gotta go slow on that shit,” Jumper said.

  “Got a problem, man,” Rancher said, out of breath.

  “What?”

  “Mary. She’s in the hospital. Something inside h
er’s all fucked up.”

  “What, Ranch?” June Bug said.

  “It’s fucked, man.”

  “What is?” June Bug said.

  “Mary, she was gonna have a baby—”

  “Mary?” Dream said.

  “Yeah. She was way into it at first. She loves kids. But then she started freaking about it. She says, ‘I can’t do it. No way.’ So, there’s the bitch that works at that tattoo place by Vine, and she tells Mary she can take care of it for twenty-five bucks. We go to the shop. She puts Mary up on the table, uses these nasty looking doctor things and … She don’t know shit! Oh man, there was blood everywhere. Mary looked like … like, I never seen her looking before. Like blue almost. I go to call 911. The tattoo bitch says don’t call them, we’re all gonna get in trouble. I say, fuck you, and call them anyway. She grabs her shit and takes the fuck off. They come, and take Mary to the hospital.”

  “How’s she doing?” Casey said.

  “I dunno.”

  “You’ve been there already, right?” Jumper said.

  “No, man.”

  “You know which hospital?”

  “Cedars or something?”

  “Cedars-Sinai—down by La Cienega,” Casey said, “Ranch, you gotta go.”

  “I want to … . But you know, I figure, I go there, they’re gonna give me some kinda dope test or something, and I end up in jail, and what the fuck good does that—”

  “Ranch!” Jumper said, “Listen to me. Casey’s right. You gotta be with Mary. Forget that other stupid shit. They ain’t gonna put you in jail.”

  “She needs you—go!,” Dragon said. “You gotta help her.”

  Rancher stood immobile, biting his nails.

  “Go, Ranch,” Casey said.

  “Yeah …” And then he took off running.

  45

  The Denny’s waitress came over with two salads. Dragon’s was piled high with chicken pieces and Casey’s veggie-only was overflowing with extra dressing. Casey started putting it down fast, but then, forced herself to slow down. What good was it to go so fast? Where was she in such a rush to go? Everything sucked. There had to be a way out—but the hows of it all were nowhere to be found. She missed Paul. You can be surrounded by people—even people you really like, and still be lonely as shit.

  “Where are you?” Dragon said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I dunno, it just seems like you’re someplace else in your head.”

  She got that right. She was far away, and wanted to be farther. “I was just thinking about a friend.”

  “Yeah?” Dragon said.

  “Paul. The best. I can’t stop thinking about him. Couple of weeks ago he taught me to drive.”

  “Cool.”

  “The greatest. And for a while, it was the greatest day.”

  “What happened?”

  Casey didn’t want to say. But also, she did. A lot. She told Dragon about waiting in the Beemer while the jerk took pictures of Paul with his date, and how afterwards they went down to Santa Monica …

  Coming back that day, they picked up Sunset where it began at the beach. When they hit Beverly Hills, Paul turned to Casey and with a wicked smile said, “Close your eyes.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you need to know why?” Paul said.

  “Because—”

  “Because you don’t trust me?”

  “C’mon.”

  “Then do it …” He reached over, gently laid his fingers on Casey’s eyelids, and lowered them. “You won’t regret it.”

  The Beemer suddenly whipped ahead. They sped around curves, over hills, and weaved in and out of traffic. Paul hadn’t made any sharp turns, so they had to still be on Sunset, heading towards the Strip. With her eyes closed it felt like a fantastic dream—the speed, being with Paul, the light smell of the beach still in his hair. She felt safe with him, and every time the car slowed down, she hoped the trip wasn’t over. He could drive to San Francisco, Chicago, Boston—just keep moving. She heard the turn flasher go on, and a moment later the car took a left, moving slowly up a steep hill.

  When the Beemer came to a stop, they were still on the hill. Paul told her he’d be five minutes, max, and to still keep her eyes shut. Casey was dying to open them, but did what he said. It seemed like he was gone an hour. She felt for a switch and lowered her window a bit. She could hear people talking the distance, in English and Spanish, and also something else—German maybe. She could smell trees and flowers—strong, sweet scents, like they were beside a huge garden.

  Paul came right back, and with her eyes still shut, he led Casey into a building. She gripped his arm, wondering what was ahead. She could feel big stone tiles under her feet. They climbed a flight of stairs, also with tiles on them, and she could hear their steps echo around the hallway.

  “What is this?” she whispered.

  “Shhh … you’ll see.”

  Casey held his arm tighter. She could smell more flowers and in the distance, bacon and eggs. Paul stopped. She could hear a key going into a door, and the door opening.

  “Okay,” Paul said. “Open them, now.”

  Casey did, and saw a room at the Chateau Marmont. A big beautiful room, with a huge bed with a thick, white comforter; a boomerang-shaped desk with a silver vase holding a purple and white orchid; and a high-tech desk chair with only three legs. Tall French doors led to a small balcony which overlooked the Strip. And just below the hotel, holding his lasso and overlooking the city was the huge Marlboro man—her god and protector.

  “What do you think?” Paul said.

  She started smiling and couldn’t stop.

  46

  Casey stood tall in the shower, steam rising all around her. The water was so hot it almost hurt—God, did it feel good. The heat seeped into every pore. She lifted her head, letting the water cascade over her face, then turned around to let it coat her back. Through the thick glass shower door, she could see a polished brass sink and above it an enormous, fogged mirror with two ultra-thin vases mounted on it, each holding a yellow orchid stem. It was all so beautiful. Casey raised her arms and spun around and around as the steam and water flowed. The Boulevard was gone, and she was clean and warm.

  She stepped out of the bathroom wearing a thick white bathrobe she found on the back of the bathroom door. Her skin glowed from the shower and the bathrobe was so soft and comfortable she never wanted to wear anything else. Paul was lying on the bed, and he offered her an apple slice from a bowl of fruit on a room service tray.

  The slice was crisp and juicy. They even had the apples right here. The tray had more plates, all covered with metal lids. Paul lifted one, showing her a fat steak.

  Casey groaned.

  “C’mon,” he said, “I’m from Minnesota, remember? This is real food.”

  She sat beside him on the bed, and as he cut into the steak, she piled whipped cream onto apples, strawberries, raspberries and huge blackberries. Paul may have thought his steak was great, but every piece of fruit—coated with the world’s sweetest whipped cream—no way could anything be better than this.

  Casey kissed Paul’s cheek and said, “You’re the greatest.”

  “Shitty way to pay for it. But what the fuck.”

  He lifted another lid. A plate of cookies.

  “Oatmeal-raisin. I love these,” Casey said.

  “Me too.”

  “When I get my preschool, me and the kids are going to make these cookies all the time.”

  “All the time? That doesn’t sound so healthy.”

  “Alright. Once a week, then.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “As a special treat. And we’ll also make healthy stuff. Banana bread, or whole wheat pizza. And you know what else? I want to have a little vegetable garden, too. The kids and me will plant tomatoes, corn, cucumbers—everything, and then, we’ll take care of them. Watch them grow. And later on we’ll all get to eat what we grow. Like a farm. What do you think?”

  “I think they’ll love
it. I think I’d love it.”

  “Then come with me. We could get jobs together someplace.”

  He shrugged.

  “Life here is so great? C’mon—” Casey said.

  “Life sucks. But I’m not going to be dating forever. I’m going to go to college. Don’t ask me how, but somehow. I saw a sign on a bus saying LA City College is like fourteen dollars a unit. That doesn’t sound so expensive, right?”

  “You could probably pay for a year on what you’ve made the last couple of nights.”

  “Fuck yeah. And when I get there, I’m gonna kick ass. I was good in school before all this shit. And when I finish, I’m going to go to law school.”

  “Really?”

  “Definitely. Way I see it, everyone always gets fucked here ’cause they don’t have any power. But the more power you got, the less people are going to take advantage of you. I’m going to be a lawyer for, you know, people who really need help.”

  Sunlight streamed through the window. Casey slept most of the day under the great comforter cuddled tight against Paul. A few times she woke up for a minute, and hearing the traffic below on the Sunset Strip, she felt her stomach tighten. This was all going to end. Now she was warm in a fluffy white bathrobe, tomorrow morning it was back to the Boulevard …

  When she woke again, steam was slipping out from the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door. Casey pushed the door open and saw Paul at the mirror shaving, surrounded by a warm mist. He had a towel around his waist, his hair was wet, and droplets of clear water glistened all over his body. She slipped behind his back, put her arms around him, stood on her toes, and rested her chin on his shoulder. Casey liked the feeling—the bathrobe surrounding her like a heavy white cocoon, her breasts tight against Paul’s back. She looked at the two of them barely visible in the steamed-up mirror. She smiled at the picture. She pulled away to take another shower—and stopped. As good as she felt a second ago—now she felt ten thousand times worse. “Oh my God.”

  “What?” Paul said.

  “Oh my God.”

  Paul saw Casey staring at his back. He spun around, twisting his shoulders towards the mirror, and saw it—a small purple bruise between his shoulder blades. He rubbed it, trying to make it go away. It didn’t. He rubbed some more. Still it wouldn’t disappear.