The Wonder Bread Summer (22 page)

“This guy is a coke thief and dealer,” Allie said. “He won’t call the police. He won’t know where to find you. He doesn’t even know where he is.”

Mike blinked rapidly as if to agree.

“That fucking trunk stinks!” Marc said. “Did he shit his pants?! I’m not going near some dude who shit his pants.”

“There was a dead bird back here,” Allie said. “It isn’t the dude. I swear.” Allie went to Mike’s feet, took off his flip-flops, threw them into the trunk, and picked up Mike’s bound ankles. “Get his upper body,” she said to Marc.

“Fuuuuck!” Marc said.

“Listen!” Allie said. “If you don’t help me, I’m going to go back to Regan and tell her everything that happened between us. Also, I’m going to give this guy your name, address, and place of work and if Regan hasn’t killed you already, he will. So get his upper body
now
.”

Marc shot Allie a look she’d never seen. Slit eyes, hard mouth. It was the kind of look that made Allie glad their relationship was over. He took Mike’s upper body and together they hoisted Mike out of the trunk.

“Over there.” Allie nodded with her head toward the giant metal-and-wood woman with the plank-pleated skirt.

Marc moved faster than Allie. She had to hurry her steps to catch up. It was hard to walk in high heels in the soft, squirmy soil, and Mike was heavier than she would have imagined. When they reached the plank-skirted woman, Allie let Mike’s feet drop. Marc abruptly placed the rest of him down.

“Also,” Allie said, patting her jeans pocket, “if this check’s no good, same deal: I tell Regan and I send Mr. Hitman after you.”

“Oh, please.” Marc rolled his eyes as if Allie were being childish.

“Please what?” Allie said.

“Would I give you a bad check?! You know me better than that!”

“Yeah,” Allie said. “I know you, and now I know that you would give me a bad check. And I also know that I could send someone mean and dangerous after you.”

Marc shook his head as if he were dealing with a ridiculous, paranoid, and jealous lover.

“Let’s go,” Allie said, and she turned and walked toward the car, glancing back once at Mike. He had rolled to his side and was watching them. Allie figured he’d be okay for the night. Fresh air, soft dew. By morning, someone would see him and undo the binds. Probably a homeless person. There were a couple of tent cities nearby.

Allie opened the door and got into the Prelude. Marc got in, too.

“Did I ever tell you I’m black?” Allie asked.

“You just told me your mother’s Chinese.”

“And my dad’s black.”

“You don’t look like either of those things,” Marc said.

“So what?” Allie said.

“Yeah, so what,” Marc said. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“I don’t know,” Allie said. “Just trying to be real. Be genuine, you know.”

“What-the-fuck-ever,” Marc said.

Marc looked out the window for the entire ride to his loft. When they pulled into the parking lot, he got out of the car without saying a word. Allie pushed the button and let the window glide down.

“Hey Marc!” she called out. Marc looked back with his head dropped at an angle, as if he just couldn’t give her his full attention. Allie reached into her purse, pulled out the tiny bong she’d been carrying around for months, and threw it out the window. It bounced slightly on the blacktop.

“What is that?” Marc asked. He didn’t move toward it.

“Your favorite bong that you left at my apartment,” Allie said.

“You can keep it,” Marc said, and he turned and walked into the building.

Allie drove the car slowly over the bong until it made a satisfying pop. She backed up, then drove forward once more just to make sure it was entirely smashed.

Chapter 17

M
ike’s truck was parked in front of Beth’s apartment, under a glaring streetlight, next to a fire hydrant. Allie guessed no one cared if it were towed. The van was parked in a too-short spot—the front wheels and bumper jutted into a private driveway. Marc once told Allie that he would never live in Berkeley, because there were only three parking places for every four cars. Apparently, Jorge had grown frustrated looking for a right-size spot.

There was a coded keypad to lift the long, yellow, wooden arm to the garage of Beth’s apartment. Allie punched in 1122, the code she had memorized when driving Beth’s car home for her after Beth had had too much to drink, or had done too much coke, or just didn’t feel like driving.

So little time had passed since Allie had driven out of the garage, but she felt like a different version of herself: a little dirtier, a bit more feral. She parked slowly, gingerly, looking all around to make sure no one with a weapon was waiting. Once all seemed clear, she got out of the car and opened the trunk with the key button. Better let it air out before Beth drove again.

Allie took off her Candie’s and dropped them into the trunk next to Mike’s flip-flops. If she had to run, it would be easier barefoot. She put the rabbit-foot key chain into her purse, then strapped the purse across her chest so it wouldn’t slip off her shoulder. As she walked up the exterior staircase in the courtyard, Allie was aware of how quiet she was. She remembered studying Indians in elementary school, before they were called Native Americans. Her class had taken a barefoot walk along a hard dirt path in a city park. They were supposed to see if they could be as quiet as Indians who were hunting bears, or cougars, or bobcats, all of which still roamed the mountains edging California.

The door to Beth’s apartment was locked. Allie leaned her head in close and tried to listen to what was going on. All she heard was music, Pat Benatar, loud. This was a good sign. Beth loved Pat Benatar. She wanted to
be
Pat Benatar.

The next-door neighbor, a slim man wearing an Izod Lacoste shirt and white shorts, came out of his apartment with a leashed, fuzzy dog. One tooth jutted up toward the dog’s nose and its eyes were like giant gooey marbles. It was one of the ugliest creatures Allie had ever seen. The dog began circling the man in a cartoonish way. Allie smiled.

“I showed her
101 Dalmatians
,” the guy said, “and she’s been practicing this move ever since!” He smiled with teeth that were long, like planks. He hadn’t locked the door behind him, Allie noticed.

“You really took her to the movies?” Allie asked.

“I’m kidding,” the man said, and he stepped out of the leash lasso, untangled it, then picked up the dog.

“Have a nice walk,” Allie said.

“If she’ll walk,” he said. “She likes to be carried half the way.”

Allie leaned in toward her purse and pretended to look for something while she watched him go down the hall and descend the tile steps. Once he was out of sight, she opened his apartment door. She suspected she didn’t have a lot of time.

The apartment was dark and crowded with thick Persian rugs and gold-framed pictures covering all the wall space. It felt like an old woman’s home, but the layout was the same as Beth’s. Allie raced straight to where she knew the balcony would be and stepped outside. She surveyed the three feet of black air between where she stood and Beth’s balcony. There were no streetlights in the back and no one had their patio light on, so it was too dark to see what was below her.

Allie climbed onto the thin wrought-iron rail, holding herself steady with both hands against the stucco wall. She reached one bare foot out toward Beth’s rail and touched down. Just then she heard a noise from inside the man’s apartment. He was back.

Allie stayed where she was, splayed like a starfish with one foot on either balcony. The man was chatting to his dog, telling it about a play he was working on. The dog slipped outside and looked at Allie with its runny eyes. She felt sorry for it.

“Where’d you go?” the man said, and he reached down and plucked up the dog without noticing Allie splattered against the wall. He went inside and shut the door most of the way. If she could look at herself in a mirror, Allie thought, she just might be able to see the movement of her heart as it clanged in her chest.

And with the power of that fear, Allie heaved herself off the rail and tumbled silently onto the hard terra-cotta tile on Beth’s balcony. She lay on the ground for a moment, waiting for her heartbeat to slow, and made a quick inventory of her body. She might have a few bruises and scrapes but nothing felt broken or sprained.

Allie scooted to the French doors, staying low to the ground. The lights were on inside, so she could see directly into the kitchen. “Hell Is for Children” was playing. That was Beth’s least favorite Pat Benatar song, it depressed her, and she always skipped it if she were near the stereo. Allie waited for the song to stop, a sign that Beth was in the living room, moving the needle to “Little Paradise.”

But “Hell Is for Children” continued. Allie reached an arm up, opened one of the doors, and crawled in along the floor. Thumping-loud music crowded the apartment. The sweet smell of fried bacon made the space feel even more closed-in.

Allie scooted toward the living room, hiding herself behind the kitchen counter. She poked her head around and looked into the room. What she saw next seemed so odd that at first her brain couldn’t quite process what was there: Frank and Jonas were side-by-side on the couch with Hans and Luis on either side of them, also on the couch. Jorge was in a floral wing chair pulled up to the round glass coffee table. An enormous man sat in the other wing chair—Beth was on the floor, nestled in the nook between his tree-trunk legs. His hand was on her head and he stroked her hair, pulling out long, brown hunks of it that he slid between his fingers as if he were running his palm through water. Allie assumed this was Rosie.

They seemed to be playing Scrabble. There were a few beer bottles and four mostly empty plates on the coffee table. One plate had bread crusts on it. Beth must have made bacon sandwiches. It was what she always made late at night, the thing she craved when she had been drinking. Jonas was speaking, but Allie couldn’t hear anything over the music. Beth was smiling, and then they were all laughing. Even Frank, who only seemed to laugh at movies like
Animal House
, which Allie saw with him when she was fifteen.

Allie sensed someone behind her. She flipped around as quickly as a cat and looked up. Lionel, her father’s old friend, was standing in the kitchen staring down at her with a grin like a lemon slice sitting across his face. “Allie, what are you doing down there?” Lionel reached a hand toward Allie as if to pull her up. Allie motioned for him to come to her.

Lionel laughed and went down on all fours beside Allie. “What happened to your head?” he asked.

“It’s nothing,” Allie said. “But is your brother going to kill me?”

“Nah, everything’s been worked out,” Lionel said, and he stood up and waved his hand in a come-hither motion. “Don’t worry. I’m the older one. Jonas is afraid of me.”

Allie stood and looked over the counter. No one noticed her. Everyone was staring intently at the board. She followed Lionel into the living room.

Beth looked up, leaped out from between Rosie’s legs, and ran to Allie. “Oh my god!” she said, hugging Allie for a moment, before pulling her head back and shouting, “Like, what’s up with that gnarly lump?!”

Jonas got up and turned off the music. Everyone stared at Allie.

“Allie,” Frank said. He was holding a Scrabble tile in his hand. “What are you doing here? And where are your shoes?”

“I better call Consuela! She’s probably worrying about why you haven’t shown up!” Jorge got up and went to the phone in the kitchen.

“So you guys didn’t already call me like you said you would?” Allie asked. She was hurt that they hadn’t followed through on the promise.

“We only got here thirty minutes ago.” Frank’s thick brow was furrowed into angry rolling ridges. “Now please explain yourself!”

“I just—” Allie didn’t know what to say. Everything seemed fine. What
was
she doing?

“I’m so excited I got to meet your dad!” Beth said. “But wait, seriously, what happened to your head?!”

“Can we go to Chez Panisse now?” Hans asked.

“Chez Panisse?” Jonas laughed. “You think you can drive up here from Los Angeles and just show up at Chez Panisse!”

Lionel and Frank immediately fell into what sounded like an old discussion about Chez Panisse. Frank had strong ideas about prix fixe menus and prices that came close to rent.

“Is this game over?” Luis said. “We’ve only got shitty vowels and no consonants. I want out.”

“Are you playing teams?” Allie asked.

“Girl, you are lucky your father got you out of this mess,” Jonas said. “Dang, you took me for a ride! And capturing my man, Vice Versa, like that? Dang! Did he do that shit to your forehead?”

“Oh my god, Allie, this is Rosie!” Beth pointed to the basement-freezer-size man. “Oh my god, you guys are, like, so going to love each other?”

Rosie hoisted himself up as if a crane were pulling him from his spine. Allie shook his hand. He had a sweet smile. Gentle golden-brown eyes. Beth was probably right about him being a good guy.

Allie leaned in close to Rosie and Beth so the others couldn’t hear, although no one appeared to be listening. (Jonas had joined the Chez Panisse discussion with Lionel and Frank—the three of them sounded like tired old roosters—and Jorge was on the phone with Consuela. Hans and Luis were still studying the Scrabble board.)

“So since Vice Versa was in L.A. the whole time,” Allie said, “did you both know that that guy you had put on the phone with me wasn’t the real Vice Versa?” This question had been picking at Allie like a too-deep splinter since the moment she met Vice Versa in her father’s closet.

“I must apologize to you for that,” Rosie said. “I was misled by you-know-who and I believed him. As soon as I have caught up on my sleep and have completely sobered up I’m going to reevaluate my relationship with—” Rosie nudged his head in the direction of Jonas.

“We were, like, so high for so many days? And I think we were a little vulnerable and stupid?” Beth said.

“Okay, this game is officially over,” Luis said loudly, turning the attention toward the coffee table. He dumped his tiles on the board.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Jonas groaned. “All I wanted was one quick game before you took off. Seemed like the least you could do to pay me back for my troubles.”

“He’s been, like, trying to get us to play the last two days and, like, no one has wanted to play?” Beth said. “I told him that you were the best at Scrabble, Allie.”

Jorge hung up the phone on the kitchen counter, then said, “
Vamos!
I’ve got to get back to my family.” Everyone was standing and shifting. It was like the end of a party with people patting their pockets for their keys, saying good-bye, wrapping up.

H
ans, Luis, and Jorge took off in the van for Los Angeles. Hans had been promised that they would stop somewhere for food but it’d have to be a twenty-four-hour place as it was already ten p.m. Jonas left with the bag of coke and less the money he owed Allie (Lionel had insisted that Jonas not deduct from Allie’s paycheck the money she earned from selling the coke or money owed for coke that was missing from the bag). Lionel left, too. Frank and Allie planned to stay with him tonight and he was on his way to the grocery store so that there would be food for his guests for breakfast tomorrow. It was just Allie, Frank, Beth, and Rosie, sitting at Beth’s counter. Allie told them how she got the lump on her head, what had happened with Marc, and where she’d dumped Mike.

“That is, like, the best bad-boyfriend revenge ever!” Beth said.

Frank stood, took Allie’s arm, and helped her off the stool. “Let’s not make Lionel wait up for us all night.”

“Why don’t you take my car,” Beth said, “instead of that nasty surfer dude’s truck.”

“I think we’ll take you up on that offer,” Frank said.

“Just take the car key off, though and leave my house keys? Allie, do you realize I couldn’t leave the apartment for four days because my house keys are, like, on the set of keys I gave you?”

“Weren’t you being held hostage anyway?” Allie asked.

“Only for a few hours,” Rosie said, and he leaned down and kissed Beth on the top of her head.

Allie pulled out the ring of keys. She was tired and bleary-eyed and couldn’t manage to get the key off.

“Let me have that,” Frank said, and he worked it off in a few seconds, then handed the key ring to Beth and whisked Allie out of there.