Tinseltown Riff (33 page)

Soon they were merging back on the Freeway bending north in the direction of Santa Barbara.

“What are you doing?” Ben finally hollered out.

“I'm thinking, I'm thinking. When it comes crashing down on you, you gotta keep rolling till you see your way clear.”

“Terrific. And while you keep rolling, where does that leave me?  What's the deal, Molly? I make the call, you're relieved and I limp around and flag a bus back? I could have made the call back in L.A.”

“I don't want to be back in L.A.  Don't you ever listen?  Like I said, I am thinking.”

Minutes later, with the old motor straining to keep it up at seventy, she said, “After problem one, there's still problem two. Bits and pieces, loose ends. You can fiddle and wangle. I mean, that's what you're good at.”

“What are you saying?”                                                                                                                            

“I'm saying, okay, the call is a good idea. But that still leaves not knowing where I'm at. And how I'm supposed to face Granny.”

“Ah, now we come down to it. Miss Molly's ulterior motives. Wangling Ben provides solutions and then she dumps him.”

“Hey, stick with the program, will you? I've got issues.”

More pressure on the gas pedal, more awkward silence. The hot air rushed through the open windows. As the pickup's motor groaned, the passing cars whooshed by. When they reached Ventura and merged close by the Coast Highway, the breeze from the ocean wafted in and the late afternoon sky settled into a powdery wash of blue.

“Pardon the interruption,” said Ben, stifling a yawn, “when do we get the entire list?”

“I am just now breaking it down.”

“Well, would you mind giving me a little hint before we run out of Southern California?”

“Fine. But don't interrupt till you hear me out.”

For starters, Molly said, in addition to making the call, Ben could intercede a bit further. Even though she was a material witness and wasn't supposed to leave town, “because of the humongous fear thing,” she needed to get clear away. Which meant Ben could also maybe work that out with C.J. Which, again, would still leave the problem of disarming Granny. Since Ben was so retro looking and harmless ... and since by the time they hit Castroville, Granny would've downed a tub of pricey wine and be totally sloshed “whipping out her guitar round the campfire and singing those folksy tunes. You know, like,
She's the queen of the Silver Dollar ... rules a smoky kingdom ...  her scepter is a wine glass, a bar stool is her throne ...
”

In short, as Molly got that familiar distracted look, Ben could step in. Because if Molly showed up on her lonesome with the confiscated pigeons in tow, sloshed or not, Granny would let her have it and boot her off. “But if she saw Ben and he told her the story—wangled in the best way—Granny would be real happy and maybe even grateful for the male company. And for saving her granddaughter from a fall from grace. That way, everything would be forgiven.”

And, Molly added, ‘cause it was his birthday to boot, Ben would be offered all the barbeque and Cabernet Sauvignon he could handle. Plus a great outdoor tent and lots of peace and quiet to lick his wounds.

“Yeah,” said Molly, loosening her grip on the wheel. “That could do it. For the time being that could do it just fine.”

“I see,” Ben said, finally getting a chance to speak. “Talk about wangling, I didn't have to say a word.”

“Not bad, huh? I do amaze myself sometimes. Like the pigeon idea. Would've worked too, given half a chance.”

“And enough rope, you could've hung yourself.”

“Oh, really?  Then forget it if that's the way you feel. Forget the whole thing.”

Molly peeled out, passed a dozen cars in the right lane and kept the pedal tromped to the floor.

“That's not how I feel,” Ben blurted out.

“If that's the way you treat a girl after all this.”

Way too beat to keep this up and worried she might blow a gasket, Ben said, “Okay, all right ... use me, I give.”

“I mean, what do you take me for? What do you think is going on here?”

“You tell me and we'll both know.”                                                                                                    

“Then why didn't you hop out while you had the chance?”

“Hey, let's just drop it, okay? Slow it down.”  

“No, let's have it, right now.”

Feeling more and more woozy, Ben leaned his head back as the truck rolled on.

“Come on, Ben. It's a little late in the game to pretend to be tongue-tied.”

Noticing a teasing tone in her voice, Ben rubbed his right knee, failed to stifle another yawn and said, “Cute. That's real cute. Will you slow down before we have an accident?”

Veering back into the right lane Molly said, “I would like an answer, please?”  

Ben yawned a tad longer and deeper.

“I mean, what are you afraid of?  What's really going on with you?”

“Me? What is this? The ol' pot calling the kettle black?”

“Come on, before you flake out on me.”

“It's nothing. I can handle it.”

“Talk to me.”

“Look, missy, you don't spell things out for the planet's flightiest female.”

“Oh, I see.”

“That's right. You don't come out and tell her you'd like nothing better than to wind up around the ol' campfire with her and Granny. And no matter what, you just want to be with her. You don't leave yourself open like that. Not after all this.”  

After a long, palpable silence, almost imperceptibly, her features began to soften. There was a glint in her eyes and the most winning smile in the world. She eased off the gas pedal, stroked his left knee and said, “All right then ... good deal ... Let's just say we've got us a maybe for sure.”

Ben smiled right back at her and said, “You're on.”

He fought off a few more yawns. After receiving another pat, this one on the shoulder, he knew he was going under. He reached down and retrieved the Hollywood souvenir pillow and curled up against the side panel.

With the ocean breeze wafting in, the curving roadway and horizon began to resemble the cover of Dr. Seuss's birthday book with its ribbons of candy cane in cinnamon, tangerine and grape. His right knee continued to throb. But, all in all, he had to admit he was having a good day.