sidewayz glory (2 page)

“What's going on?” Kennin asked.

Shinchou shrugged.

“You don't look well,” Kennin said.

His sister shook her head as if to indicate that she didn't want to talk about it. Maybe it wasn't necessary. It was pretty easy to guess what was going on.

“Still dancing?” Kennin asked.

Shinchou nodded. She crossed one leg over the other and swung it rapidly. At the same time her hands kept moving, tugging at her hair and scratching her arms. It seemed as if she couldn't keep still.

“How much do you still owe Jack?” Kennin asked.

She rolled her eyes as if to say it was none of his business. He knew that asking more questions would just make her mad, so instead they watched an episode of
The Simpsons
on the hospital room TV. When it was over, Shinchou stood up.

“I'm gonna go have a smoke,” she said, and went out.

She didn't come back.

Kennin thought he was dreaming, but when he opened his eyes, Mariel Lewis was standing beside his bed, looking down at him. She was wearing a tight pink sweater that spoke volumes about what was underneath. Her blond hair was hooked behind her ears and her lips glistened with lip gloss.

“I tried not to wake you,” she said.

“You didn't.” Kennin yawned and started to stretch his arms, but the tubes stopped him. “I think your perfume did.”

“How are you feeling?” Her gold earrings glimmered.

“Okay, I guess,” Kennin answered.

“Everyone thought you were dead,” she said.

“Huh?”

“I mean, that night. The way the side of the car was crushed in.”

Kennin blinked. It was strange, but until now, no one
had spoken of what actually happened. “How long ago was it?”

“The crash?” Mariel gazed up at the ceiling and counted on her fingers. “Five days?”

It felt like a month to Kennin. “Looked pretty bad, huh?”

“You can't imagine,” Mariel said. She had a way of licking her lips when she spoke. And her blue eyes never left his. “They say you were lucky. I'm glad you're still alive.”

“That makes two of us,” said Kennin.

“When do you think you'll get out of here?”

“They tell me another week maybe.”

“I'm looking forward to seeing you.” She reached over and stroked his cheek with her fingers. “I mean, once you get out of this place.”

Tito and Angelita walked in. They were both wearing hoodies. Tito's was gray and the hood covered his head. Angelita's was navy blue with the hood down, her black hair pulled back into a ponytail. When she saw Mariel leaning over Kennin in the bed, she froze.

“Oops. Sorry, dude, didn't mean to butt in,” Tito said. He and Angelita started to back out of the room.

Mariel straightened up. Her eyes met Angelita's and a smile appeared on her lips. “It's okay, I was just leaving.”

Tito hesitated. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Mariel said, then leaned over to kiss Kennin. He turned his head slightly so it was only half on the lips.

“Can't wait to see you again,” she whispered, just loudly enough for Tito and Angelita to hear. “In private.”

Mariel picked up a white jacket from the chair beside the bed and then started out of the room. But as she passed Angelita, she paused. “Sorry about your car.”

Angelita started to nod, mistakenly assuming the words were sincere.

But Mariel wasn't finished. “Guess you'll have to find some other way to keep the boys interested.”

Angelita flushed. Mariel stopped in the doorway, turned to Kennin, and fluttered her fingers. “Bye.”

The blonde left. Angelita had to restrain herself from whaling on her. She took a deep breath and stared at the TV, unable to look Kennin in the eye.

“What was
that
about?” Tito asked.

“Not what it looked like,” Kennin said, his eyes on Angelita.

“If that wasn't what it looked like, then what was it?” Tito asked. Now Angelita gazed at Kennin. Her brother had asked exactly what she was wondering.

“I don't know,” Kennin said. “I'm stuck in this bed and can't move. Anyone who comes in here can do pretty much what they want to me.”

“Chris Craven sees her doing that with you and he'll be the next one in here … with a baseball bat,” Tito said. “You'll wind up in a full-body cast with less teeth than my grandmother.”

“Thanks, 'd0Ékeep it in mind,” Kennin said, and turned to Angelita. “How's the car?”

Angelita looked down at the floor. “Totaled.”

Kennin winced. That was terrible news. He felt both awful and responsible. “Insurance?”

Tito's sister shook her head. “Denied. The accident report has the driver wearing a racing helmet, and the police say it had all the markings of a street race. I didn't even bother with a claim. They'd disallow it in a second.”

“I'm really sorry,” Kennin said miserably. “You were counting on selling that car to make money for college.”

“I salvaged the engine and some of the mods,” Angelita said. “That's where most of the money was. There are still plenty of 240 SXs around. I'll find one.”

Kennin turned to Tito. “So what happened with the tsuiso?”

“We lost big-time,” Tito answered. “You almost lost your leg. My sister lost her car. And I lost all my cash.”

“I'm sorry about that,” Kennin said, although he'd never wanted Tito to bet on him in the first place.

“Not as sorry as I am, dude,” Tito said. “But what can you do? Accidents happen, you know?”

Accidents?
Kennin thought uncertainly, recalling the sound of the impact wrench and the way the car had started to vibrate the moment the tsuiso began. “Did anyone ever figure out what happened?”

Tito glanced at his sister and then said, “The wheel
broke off. Right where the spokes meet the center cap. Crappy aftermarket knockoffs.”

“They weren't knockoffs,” Angelita shot back in a way that made Kennin suspect they'd had this argument before.

“Someone could have pawned them off on you without you knowing it,” Tito said.

“I'd know,” Angelita retorted.

An awkward silence followed.

“If it wasn't the wheels, then what else could it have been?” Kennin finally asked.

“I don't know,” Angelita said. “Nothing makes sense. The car ran perfectly the heat before. If there'd been anything wrong, you would have felt it during the drive back up the mountain.”

“Unless it was a cheap wheel and it just broke,” Tito said.

Angelita's face hardened with anger and she glared at her brother. “For the last time: It was
not
a cheap wheel.”

They'd reached a stalemate. Angelita's tone implied that there'd be no more discussion on the topic. Tito looked at Kennin. “You made the newspapers again. There's been this big public outcry. Street racing is dangerous to lawabiding citizens. It has to be stopped. Innocent people are going to be injured. Blah, blah, blah …”

“They didn't mention me by name, did they?” Kennin asked.

Tito shook his head. “No, ‘cause you're still a minor.”

“So when do you get out?” Angelita asked.

“About a week, I think,” said Kennin. “But it'll be a while before the cast comes off.”

An awkward silence followed. Finally Tito said, “Hey, Angie, think I could have a private moment with
mi amigo?
”

Angelita frowned, but then nodded and stepped out into the hall. Tito moved closer to Kennin and said in a low voice, “Two months from now, she's out of here.”

Kennin scowled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, she's got enough credits to graduate from Dorado by Christmas,” Tito explained. “Then she moves to California, establishes residence, and pays in-state tuition next year. There's only one thing that can stop her, dude, and that's you.”

Tito paused and gave Kennin a meaningful look. “She's still hung up on you. She won't admit it, but I can see it in her eyes. You gotta do the right thing, man. You gotta let her go, okay?”

Kennin didn't answer. It still rankled him that Tito didn't think he was good enough for Angelita. But Tito was right about one thing: Angelita had worked really hard to get good grades and save money so she could go to college in California. And Kennin didn't want to stand in the way.

Tito pressed on. “It's no big deal, right? You can get any babe you want. I saw what was going down with Mariel when
we got here. She's the hottest chick around, and all you gotta do is snap your fingers.”

Kennin nodded slowly.
Maybe … Maybe not.

Leon came in and took the joystick away. “Fun's over, dawg. No more of this for you.”

“How come?” Kennin asked.

“They don't want you to get used to it,” Leon said as he removed the IV from the back of Kennin's hand. “This is a hospital, not an introduction to Junkie 101. Believe me, I've been there. I know.”

“You were a junkie?” Kennin asked.

“Let's just say that for a time I followed the path of the unenlightened,” Leon said, and unhooked the small clear plastic bag from the IV stand.

“How'd you get off it?” Kennin asked, thinking of Shinchou.

“Sista Bertha. She runs a rehab clinic over on the south side. Place looks like a dump, but believe me, she knows what she's doing.”

“What's it cost?” Kennin asked.

“It don't cost nothin', dawg,” Leon said. “Sista's doin' God's work. She gives you one shot at redemption, understand? The second time you fall from grace, you fall alone.”

“I'll keep it in mind,” Kennin said.

“So, how come you never told me you were some kind of outlaw celebrity race car driver?” Leon asked.

“You sure you got the right guy?” Kennin asked.

“You didn't bust up that leg playin' soccer, right?” Leon said, then leaned close and lowered his voice. “There's a cop outside waitin' to talk to you. Want me to tell him you're not up to it?”

Kennin thought it over. “Thanks, but I can deal.”

Leon went to the door and stuck his head out into the hall. A moment later Detective Sam Neilson of the Las Vegas Police came in. Neilson had blond hair and was wearing a tan sports jacket and dark slacks. He'd lost weight since the last time Kennin had seen him.

“How's the leg?” Neilson asked.

“Getting better,” Kennin replied. “I like the look.”

Neilson smiled, as if pleased that someone had noticed. “Yeah, I dropped twenty pounds and got some new threads.” He touched his upper lip. “You like it better without the mustache?”

Kennin tried to remember what the detective looked like with the mustache. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay.” Neilson grinned, as if he was pleased he'd made the right decision. Then, like everyone else who visited, he asked how much longer Kennin would be in the hospital. Kennin told him a week.

“Then what?” the detective asked.

“Sorry?” Kennin didn't follow.

“No more street racing,” Neilson said.

Kennin remained silent.

“It's bad enough that we gotta deal with DWls and all that crap without a bunch of kids whipping sideways around corners at a hundred miles an hour,” Neilson said.

“Not quite that fast,” Kennin said.

“Whatever. You know how many violations we could've hit you with?” Neilson asked. “Driving without a license, reckless endangerment, speeding … believe me, it was quite a list.”

“How come you didn't?” Kennin asked.

Neilson drummed his fingers against the bed's chrome rail. “Turns out you've got friends in high places.”

Kennin frowned.

“Come on, Kennin,” Neilson said. “Think about it. Can't be like you've got
that
many friends in
that
many high places, can it?”

Mercado,
Kennin realized. The owner of the Babylon Casino. But why?

“You've been the subject of several conversations down at headquarters,” Neilson went on. “There was even some talk about handing you over to social services.”

“You can't do that,” Kennin said. “My sister's my legal guardian.”

“Where've you been, kid? Your sister's a stripper on crystal meth. She's no help to you or herself.”

Kennin winced. So there it was—confirmation of his worst fears. Anger welled up inside him. He knew his sister well enough to know she hadn't gotten there alone. She'd had help.

Neilson slid his hand along the chrome rail. “And there's still the matter of the stolen GTO. Mark my words, Kennin, sooner or later that one's gonna come back to haunt you.”

“Seriously, Detective Neilson?” Kennin said. “I've never stolen a car in my life.”

“Oh yeah?” Neilson said. “Swear on your mother's grave that you had absolutely nothing to do with that car.”