L.A. Success (5 page)

I showed him around the house a little, which got me thinking about the places Dennis told me I wasn't supposed to go. I took dad back to the couch and set him up with a game. Then I went up to Dennis' room.

Nothing looked too weird at first. He must have packed up his gay clothes for Spain because his dresser was basically empty. But when I opened up his closet, I got a surprise. He had left all his private eye clothes in there, and he hadn't been exaggerating earlier when he had said that he used to be around my size. I tried on a few of the jackets, and while posing in front of the mirror, I imagined myself talking to some chick in a smoky detective office. Of course this was L.A., so the smoky office would probably be more like a small table at a vegetarian restaurant in the middle of a mall.

There were boxes of stuff also. I was wondering if there was more detective stuff in them. There had to be more to this business than having dark, manly clothes. I decided to come check it out later when I had more time. I had to run an errand now.

I went downstairs to see how pops was doing, and everything was working well. He didn't pay any attention to me because he was already into a game. This was going to keep him busy for hours.

“Okay Dad, I'm taking the big hairy Ballsack out for a walk—I mean the dog. I'll bring some food by later.”

12

I hadn't been able to get Helen out of my mind. I missed her a lot and I wanted to find out if there was any chance she'd talk to me again.

I started walking over to my beat-up, rusty compact, but Ballsack pulled me toward Dennis' cars. This dog had a good idea, and hey, wasn't I supposed to start the motors up every once in a while? I could drive them around and that would be even better. It'd be like Dennis had never stopped driving them. They'd stay perfect that way. I ran back in and picked up the keys to the Charger. The dog jumped in the front seat. I rolled down the window a little for him, and he immediately started drooling on the passenger-side door. I started the car. The motor was like a rolling earthquake. It sent vibrations all through my legs. I took a good look at myself in the rear-view mirror. No matter what you look like, you look pretty good in a car like this, even if you've got a big poodle next to you.

I sped off down the street. The Charger was so fast that I had to get used to barely touching the accelerator. The car kept lurching forward, sending Ballsack flying all over the place. But once I got out of the neighborhood, it went smoother.

Helen would be at work now that the school year had just started back up. She taught science at a high school in Westwood. That was probably why she had always managed to put up with me—after a day full of those high-school monkeys, I was no problem.

I parked the car in a visitor spot and left the windows rolled down for the dog. He barked at me a few times while I was heading inside. I pointed to my watch and held up five fingers, which was kind of stupid because the dog didn't know what I was talking about. He may have thought I was saying something like “lick your paw five times.” It made him be quiet though, so I figured I had at least confused him long enough to keep him happy.

I arrived at the office and walked up to the desk. The secretary, a large woman who had apparently discovered how to make dresses from picnic tablecloths, was chatting with a female colleague. Even though she saw me come in, she continued her conversation.

“And then in the last part, Mike buys the ring and is just waiting for the perfect time to give it to her. He puts it in a glass of wine, but Jill just doesn't want anything to drink that night so she never sees it,” she said.

“Hmm, err, heugh,” I groaned. But she didn't look up at me. She was holding an envelope in one hand and a folded letter in the other. Every time she paused, the letter would come closer to going in the envelope, but when she started speaking again, her hand would move away from it.

“And then he gets down on one knee in the kitchen right behind the open fridge door. She has her head in the fridge looking for some milk. So all we're waiting for is for her to close the door so she can see him kneeling there waiting to pop the question. But guess what happens?”

“What?” asked the other woman, who wasn't working either.

“She drops the milk and it spills all over, so they just clean it up and he has to try again later.”

“Oh lord,” said the woman.

Now there was a little bit of silence. The secretary almost had the letter in the envelope, and to be honest, I'd almost forgotten why I was there because by that point I just wanted her to get that letter into the envelope.

“And then there's the best part,” she said, and out came the letter again. “He makes some Jell-O and puts the ring in it.”

“In Jell-O?” asked the other woman.

“Yes. It's Jill's favorite dessert. He's sure this time that he's found the right way to do it,” she said.

“Great. She sees the ring and gets all happy and blah blah,” I said. “Could you put that letter into the envelope please?”

The woman turned toward me. She looked offended.

“She did not see the ring. Did you even see this movie?”

“Of course I did. They do it at the end,” I said, which always works no matter what story you're talking about.

“Oh,” she said. “Well, you forgot about this part.”

“Well, go on,” said the other woman.

“Mike gives Jill the wrong square of Jell-O, and with all that jiggling around and the light shining off the Jell-O, he doesn't notice the mistake until he feels the ring sliding down his throat!”

“Oh lord that Mike!” said the other woman.

“Yes! Can you believe that? He has to go out and buy an all new ring.”

“I'd have just fished the old one out of the toilet,” I said. Both the women stopped smiling and looked at me. The secretary put the letter in the envelope.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Yeah, thanks. I'm here to see Helen Aldridge,” I said.

“She's on leave this year. Have you tried to call her?”

“Well, I was hoping to surprise her,” I said. I figured these ladies liked surprises, so maybe they'd be nicer if they thought I was a romantic guy. “I've got a surprise present I want to give her.”

“Oh,” said the two ladies at the same time.

“She could really use a present,” said the other lady. “I hear she needs some cheering up.”

“Well, she changed her address recently. She left it with us. Let me see...Here it is,” said the secretary. She wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it to me. I recognized it immediately. It was Helen's sister's place.

“Did she have an accident or something?” I asked.

“No, thank the lord. She's under the weather,” said the other woman. “But you didn't hear it from us.”

“Thanks a lot,” I said and left.

The dog was ecstatic to see me when I got back to the car. In his dog brain, it must have seemed like I had been gone for hours. I noticed he had been licking his side of the windshield to pass the time. It was slimed up so much that I had problems seeing out of it.

Helen's sister lived out east, near Griffith Park. At that time of day with the traffic, I wouldn't have made it out there until her family was back from work. I needed to talk to her alone, I thought. In fact I didn't really know what I wanted to say, so I needed to think of something first before I went tooling over there.

13

I drove back to Dennis' place and got in my own car with the dog. What a difference. Now I realized everything that was wrong with it. I had to fight the steering wheel to keep it going in a straight line, and the brakes only worked after I gave them a serious mashing. I didn't think I could go back to it now that I'd been in a real car.

I drove to my place and parked. Tommy was inside looking up words in his dictionary. This guy was amazing—he had time to study and to clean my place up spotless. I'd always heard about people exploiting foreigners, but I'd never known exactly what I was missing until now.

“L.O.,” he said. He looked at the dog and I could tell he was worried about the extra cleaning he'd have to do.

“Hey Tommy. You want a car to drive around?” I threw my keys toward him. They hit his fat belly and fell to the floor. I guess French people can't catch things with their hands because they're more into soccer. If I'd have thrown the keys near his feet, maybe he'd of done some cool soccer shit with them.

“Car?” he asked. Well, I imagined that was a question. He smiled big, so I figured that made up for the dog.

“Yeah, you can use it all you want. You know how to drive?”

“Yes! I 'ave pairmee,” he said, whatever the hell that meant. “But I can't drive 55! uh...because...uh...I'm on a 'eyeway to 'ell!” he said and picked up the keys.

“All right Speedy Frogzales, just don't get too many tickets.” It really was amazing how fast he was learning English.

Ballsack and I took off on foot to buy something to eat for my dad and me. On the way out of the neighborhood I saw one of the Mrs. Oldhags. I waved and yelled over “do you like my new dog? He was a little expensive, but hey, I'm worth it, right?” Being Dennis for a day had been great. I was thinking I could get used to it.

We made it back to Dennis' place with burgers and sodas. I gave the big poodle a bowl of crunchy dog food and left him in the courtyard. My dad was still staring at the computer screen. It didn't look like he had moved an inch since I left.

“Hey Dad, you went to the bathroom while I was gone, right?” I could see from the way he glanced over at me that he was about to explode. I walked over to the computer and pointed at the chess clock on the screen. “Look here—you've got 15 minutes to make each move. You can get up and go do something else. As long as you make one move every fifteen minutes, you're good.” He stood up and ran into the bathroom. When he came out, he looked much better.

“Here's something to eat.” He sat down with me on the couch and scarfed down the burgers and fries. I really liked seeing my dad happy like that. Maybe the only reason he liked to live in Venice was because he didn't realize he could play chess all day inside. I'd have to give him some time to see.

After we finished eating, I let the dog in and turned on the TV. I wanted to wait around long enough to show my dad that he didn't have to accept another game immediately. It took another four hours for him to finish that game. He won, so he took a dollar out of the bag.

“Okay. Now watch this. When you finish the game and you want to relax, you close the laptop like this. When you want to play again, you open it like this, and it'll be ready. So now we want to close it so we can sleep.”

I got a couple of blankets from the closet and made him a place to sleep on the couch. I could see he was a little freaked out by the idea of sleeping in a new place.

“I'll leave my number by the phone. If you need anything, just call it. You don't have to say anything. I'll just come right over.”

I took the dog with me so he wouldn't bother my dad. We went back to my place and got ready for bed. I let Ballsack sleep near my feet, but at first he went crazy looking for frogs. He thought they were real, but after listening to them for thirty minutes or so, he gave up and dozed off.

14

The next day I was hanging out with my dad getting wasted when I started thinking about how cool it would be to continue being Dennis for a while. I staggered up the stairs into his room and opened up the closet. I chose some sweet detective clothes—real tough-guy stuff. I took off everything but my Arnold shirt and put on Dennis' clothes. I couldn't wear his shoes, which was too bad because he had some sweet wing tips. Anyway, with all the booze I had drunk that day, I was thinking my flip-flops looked good with the dark leather jacket and khaki cargo pants. I had a kind of fat Indiana-Jones thing going on, but with a black baseball cap instead of a fedora.

I was admiring all this in the mirror when I heard the doorbell ring. I panicked a little and spilled some booze on Dennis' pants, but then I calmed down. No one was going to realize I was wearing Dennis' clothes anyway. Hell, they wouldn't even realize I wasn't Dennis.

I was so lit up that I don't remember getting from Dennis' closet to the courtyard. I swung the gate open. There stood a man who kept weaving left and right. Or maybe that was me.

“Yeah, what the hell is it?” I asked.

The man was wearing a tan, wide-brimmed hat pulled down low. He had on a trench coat. This definitely had to be some secret Dennis stuff.

“I'm looking for...Mr. Bates,” whispered the man.

“He's...” I started to say and then stopped, mainly because I had to belch and was trying to hold it back, but also because I began to have an idea. Dennis Bates the private investigator didn't exist anymore, so what harm would it do to give this guy the next best thing? Maybe this would be the opportunity I had been looking for to take a little vacation from my life.

“I mean,” I continued, “he's me. How can I help you?”

“You...you're Dennis Bates?”

“Yeah, that's me—the private-investigator guy.”

“And you...live here?”

“Yes. When I'm not out in the field,” I said. “What do you want?”

The guy looked around behind him for a while, as if he was looking to see if he had been followed. As I watched him, I got the feeling I'd seen this guy before. I couldn't exactly place him though.

“I need to...uh...hire you. You see...” he said and paused again to look around. He looked to be about 60 years old. He had a fine beard with a lot of gray in it. In fact, he looked a lot like that director guy, Spieldburt. “...I have a problem, and no one can know about it because my image is very important to me. It's my lover. I believe she's cheating on me.”

“What's her name?” I asked. He squinted as he looked toward the neighbor's lawn. Then he turned toward me and leaned in close.

“Gertie Elliot,” he said.

It was like a bomb going off in my head. I knew that name. Those were the names of those kids in E.T. I was sure more than ever that this was that director guy.

“Quick, come in,” I said. He stepped into the courtyard, and I shut the gate. “What's your name?” I asked. He hesitated for a long time.