Dragon Fruit Page 12

  ‘Where you going, girl?’ His voice had changed, too.

  ‘Know what? I love you, Zave. But from now on it’s going to have to be in another kind of way.’

  ‘Yeah? What way is that?’

  ‘What do they call it? Cerebral. You’re the genius, you work it out.’ I turned and made a beeline for the door.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been in this restaurant before.’ Chucha slid into the booth opposite me. I looked at her and wondered if she was keeping up with her hormones. A rash of razor bumps covered her chin.

  ‘The locals don’t come here, only tourists. That’s why I picked it.’ I looked out the plate-glass window, across the water to the marina. ‘I think it’s getting risky, Chucha. I don’t want people to see us together. Someone might guess you’re the missing girl’s mom.’

  ‘I don’t really care.’ She frowned and stared down at the white tablecloth. Her wig was askew. ‘I just don’t give a fuck about who guesses what.’

  ‘I understand. But we need to be careful.’ I reached across the table and covered her hand with my own.

  ‘Ahem.’

  I looked up. A waiter stared down at us. For a moment his expression revealed his bald-faced curiosity. Then his face grew opaque. Good. As far as I was concerned, he could keep it that way.

  ‘What can I get you … ladies … to drink?’

  ‘A tequila sunrise,’ Chucha replied, ignoring the waiter’s hesitation. She looked over at me. ‘I know it’s early, Jaymie, but I need a drink.’

  ‘Bring me a Firestone Pale Ale.’

  ‘He’s nosey,’ I said once the server had moved on.

  ‘Who isn’t?’ Chucha looked around the restaurant and shrugged. ‘Everybody stares. I don’t pay that much attention to it, not anymore.’

  I knew that wasn’t true. I’d observed her registering every slight, every stare.

  ‘Still, it can’t feel good. Like being a goldfish in a bowl.’

  She let the act of bravado go. ‘Yeah. Yeah, what I just said just now, it isn’t true.’ Chucha met my eyes. ‘I’ve never gotten used to it. I wish I could.’

  I glanced at her cleavage and thought about the platform shoes and super-tight skirt. ‘But at the same time, you want to be noticed, right?’

  Where was I going with this? I knew I should mind my own business. But what Zave had told me … I’d said it didn’t matter that Chucha was a sex worker. And it didn’t. But maybe somewhere in the back of my mind, it did.

  ‘I guess so. Yes. I want people to look at me as a woman, you know?’

  I started to say something more, then focused on realigning the fork and knife on the tabletop.

  ‘Jaymie? You said – I thought you wanted to talk to me about the case. What’s going on?’

  I had to say it, to get it off my chest. ‘You told me you’re a make-up artist. An aesthetician. But someone told me you’ve been arrested.’ I made myself meet her eyes. ‘I don’t want to demean you, Chucha. I just want to know.’

  ‘You heard.’ She looked like I’d slapped her. Her face dissolved. ‘So you heard, and you didn’t bother to ask me about it before you decided it was true.’

  Now I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. But I hadn’t, and I could only keep plowing on. ‘I am asking you, Chucha. That’s what I’m doing.’

  ‘No, that’s not what you’re doing.’ Her eyes had welled with tears, but even so, I saw her tough side shining through. ‘I can tell you’ve already made up your mind. And I thought you were a friend!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Chucha. The person who told me – honestly, he’s pretty much never wrong.’

  ‘Guess what. This time he is.’ She grabbed the corner of the folded linen napkin and gave it a hard shake.

  ‘Here you are!’ The waiter, overly jolly now, set Chucha’s frothy orange drink down in front of her. I got the bottle of beer, wet with dew.

  ‘Are we ladies ready to order?’

  ‘No.’ I glared at the grinning guy. He seemed to think he was in on some kind of joke.

  ‘No problemo. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.’

  ‘Make that five.’

  For some reason his smile widened. ‘Sure. Five it is.’

  ‘What a pain in the ass. What’s with him, I wonder?’

  ‘Yeah, well.’ Chucha took a long sip of her drink and shut her eyes. ‘Sometimes it’s better not to wonder, believe me.’

  A moment of silence filled the space between us.

  ‘Chucha, I’m sorry. Forgive me.’

  She opened her eyes and looked at me. ‘I accept.’ Another long minute passed. Chucha adjusted the silky magenta scarf to cover her plunging neckline. Her fuzzy pale blue sweater clung to her curves.

  ‘Actually, Jaymie, I was arrested. Twice. The charges were dropped.’

  ‘I don’t need to know about it, Chucha. It’s none of my business.’

  ‘No. But I want you to know. Now that you’ve heard about it, I mean.’ She leaned back in the bench seat.

  ‘I had a boyfriend. And then I met somebody else, somebody who treated me better. We would meet in a bar on the west side of town, just to talk. My boyfriend, he knew about that, and he used it against me. Twice, he reported me to the cops. Claimed I was a ho.’ She shrugged and sipped her tequila. ‘Some of the cops are OK. But a few of them, they’ve got real issues with somebody like me.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’

  ‘No. But I was lucky. I got a good lawyer, and in the end the DA dropped the charges. I went down to LA for five months and the cops forgot all about me. Too much trouble to bother with, I guess. So it turned out OK, pretty much. Cost me a lot of money though. I’m still paying off the legal fees.’

  ‘Your ex, he doesn’t bother you anymore?’

  ‘Naw.’ She grinned. ‘I beat him up real good. He didn’t want to tell anyone about that.’

  I laughed too. ‘And your current boyfriend?’

  Her face fell. ‘Oh, he dumped me. After the – you know, the novelty – wears off, they usually do.’

  ‘Ready now ladies?’ Howdy Doody was a real smoothie.

  ‘Look, friend. We are women, not ladies. All right with you?’ I enjoyed the disconcerted look on his face. ‘Chucha, what are you having?’

  She ordered a sensible seafood salad. The aroma of fish and chips had reached me from the kitchen, and I opted for that.

  ‘How do you stay so skinny, Jaymie? If I ate like you do I’d put on ten pounds overnight.’

  ‘I guess I don’t eat all that often. Food bores me until it’s right under my chin.’

  ‘Don’t tell me that. I’m going to hate you.’ Chucha smiled.

  ‘You’d have a good reason.’

  ‘Jaymie, come on. I said forget it.’ Chucha drained her drink. ‘Listen, plenty of trannies are sex workers. It’s an easy lifestyle to fall into, especially when they won’t hire you anywhere else. But it’s a hard life. Lots of suicides, you know?’

  ‘I’m learning. That’s about all I can say for myself.’

  ‘Oh stop it. So now, what did you want to see me about? Any good news?’

  ‘There’s news. And on balance it’s good.’ I settled back in the bench seat and took a long swallow of my pale ale just to gain time. ‘We had a response to the flyer.’

  ‘When? I wish you’d told me right away!’ Her face lit up with a mixture of joy and hope that made my heart ache. ‘Rosie’s OK, right? Tell me, who was it? What did they say?’

  ‘Rosie’s alive. We’re sure as we can be. It was one of the pangeros who came forward, a kid. He refused to give us his name. But he said Rosie was on the boat and pretty much OK when it landed. She—’

  ‘Jaymie, stop. “Pretty much OK?” What are you saying exactly?’

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the waiter heading for us with our food.

  ‘Let’s eat, Chucha. Then we’ll talk in private, down on the beach.’

  ‘So you’re telling me somebody grabbed Rosie. And she wasn’t
well?’ Chucha and I stood at the water’s edge. The surf hissed like steam as it pulled back off the sand.

  ‘She was OK by the time the boat landed.’ I hadn’t told Chucha about Millie, the little girl who had died.

  Chucha looked down at me. Only now, as we stood side by side, did I realize just how tall she was.

  ‘This is all good, Jaymie, I’m sure of it. The guy who grabbed her, maybe he thought he was saving her. Somebody’s taking care of my baby, I know it. We just have to find her, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s pretty much it, Chucha. Somebody has her, and we have to locate them.’ I dug into the wet sand with the toe of my shoe.

  ‘So?’ Chucha angled her head to meet my eyes. ‘Why do I get the feeling something’s not right?’

  A wave rippled up and licked at my shoe. ‘Two things. And both of them are going to be hard to hear.’

  ‘OK.’ She folded her arms over her chest. ‘I’m ready. Tell me now.’

  ‘First. According to the pangero, there was another little girl on the boat.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘And … she didn’t make it.’

  ‘Didn’t – what? What, she died?’

  ‘We only have the guy’s word for it. But he seems honest, for what it’s worth.’

  ‘But – that’s awful. Awful! Maybe it was her cross I found. MACB!’

  ‘It’s possible, yes. Anyway, according to Chino—’

  ‘Hold on. Who’s Chino, the pangero? I thought you said he didn’t have a name.’

  I felt the ocean water roll over my foot, into my shoe, and stepped back. ‘It’s just a nickname, Chucha. It’s nothing we can use.’

  ‘Chino. Believe me, I’ll remember that.’

  ‘He said both of the little girls were sick on the trip. The other little girl died. I showed him the picture of Rosie. She was definitely the one who survived.’

  ‘It’s scary. I don’t know whether to be happy or sad.’ Chucha took a deep breath, then hunkered down on the wet hard-packed sand. ‘What’s the other thing?’

  I reached down, took her by the elbow, and raised her up. ‘We know Rosie’s alive. But we don’t know why she was taken.’ I waited for Chucha to accept what I’d said.

  ‘You think – so you think—’ Chucha didn’t sound like a woman, not now. Her voice had deepened and turned hard as flint. ‘You think somebody’s hurting my baby. Right?’

  ‘Like I said, we don’t know why somebody grabbed her from the boat. Most likely it concerns money. Or it could just be like you said, somebody thinks they’re protecting her. Chances are, Rosie’s OK.’

  The cold breeze blew Chucha’s long hair across her face. She reached up and yanked off her wig. ‘Sometimes I get so tired of wearing this thing on my head.’

  It was only the second time I’d seen Chucha without the wig. I noticed again that her features seemed sculptured – beautiful, even. But her looks wouldn’t appeal to just anyone, female or male. There was something unyielding about them, as if they were carved in stone.

  ‘I know what you’re talking about, Jaymie. Maybe better than you do. And yeah, people are fucked up. I have to do something about this as fast as I can.’

  ‘Let me handle it, Chucha.’ I grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. ‘Please trust me.’

  ‘I do trust you. But I can’t sit back and do nothing.’

  ‘We’re making headway,’ I pleaded.

  ‘This is my baby you’re talking about.’ Chucha looked away. ‘I’m sorry, it’s not fast enough.’

  TWELVE

  ‘Jaymie Zarlin? The Black Widow.’

  I was about to hang up the phone. But as so often happens curiosity got the better of my good judgment. ‘The who?’

  The Black Widow laughed. Her voice was pleasant but her laugh was kind of snickery. ‘My other name is Pam Spaulding but it’s the Black Widow to you. And your other name is La Macheesma.’

  ‘Is this some kind of hate call?’

  The Black Widow snickered again. ‘You could say so. I’d say it’s a call to fame. A friend of yours told me you’d be willing, and are more than able, to fill her spot on the Mission City Brawlers this coming Saturday night.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘Roller derby, babe. I’ve got three women, including your friend, down with injuries, two down with the flu.’

  ‘A friend of mine gave you my name? Sounds more like an enemy. Who was it?’

  ‘Her name is La Diablita. Claudia Molina to you. She’s injured her ankle, the chicken. Says you owe her a favor, you’re good for it.’

  ‘Ah shit.’ I did owe the girl a favor. Yes, I remembered voicing that idiocy.

  ‘Look, haven’t you got subs? I like wearing my original teeth in my mouth.’

  ‘All the subs have the flu. Listen, La Macheesma, all you gotta do is wear a mouth guard. And don’t forget the fishnets – they’ll save a couple layers of skin on your legs.’

  ‘All the subs have the flu? Maybe I should ask, just who are you playing against on Saturday night?’

  ‘Stanford. They’re not too shabby, I admit. And if we don’t win this match we get demoted to the D League.’

  ‘Ech. I don’t know about this.’

  ‘Come on. This is your chance to whip the skinny asses off a bunch of smart girls.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘All former high school valedictorians, guaranteed.’

  ‘You’re tempting me, I admit. Let me talk to that so-called friend of mine. One thing though: If I play, no fishnets. Agreed?’

  ‘Sure. Skin grows back. La Macheesma, whatever you say.’

  Claudia Molina was wearing her Junior Lawyer outfit: black pants suit, maroon collared button-down shirt, black lace-up shoes. Only her hair hinted at the real Ms Molina: the good-little-boy cut had morphed back into an alarming sheared-up-the-sides look.

  ‘A guy came in about the flyer? That’s so fucking bitchin’ fuckin’ cool!’

  ‘Words are failing you, huh?’

  ‘No words are badass enough. I don’t wanna sound soft, but I’m happy for that little kid.’

  ‘Rosie’s not safe yet, not by a long shot.’

  ‘No, but she’s alive.’ Claudia pitched her backpack onto the desk and her body onto the craigslist couch.

  ‘I gotta rest. Take a nap. Going to school full time, it’s a bitch. Where’s the Gabster?’

  ‘Gabi’s working for Sparkleberry today.’

  ‘Exploitation of the fuckin’ masses.’ Claudia yawned. ‘Why the does she do it, clean up other fuckers’ shit?’

  ‘She supports herself by running her own business, in case you hadn’t noticed. And she runs this one too.’ On occasion Claudia could rile me. Today she was getting close.

  ‘Don’t get your tits in a tangle.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t get your knickers in a knot.’ She rolled her head on the couch arm and grinned at me. ‘Cool, huh? That’s vintage British slang. There’s all kindsa weird crap on the internet.’

  ‘You have too much time on your hands.’

  ‘The fuck I do.’ She sat bolt upright. ‘Anyways, I came by to tell you something important.’

  ‘Does this have anything to do with the call I received from the Black Widow? As it happens, she and I just got off the phone. By the way, your ankle looks just fine to me.’

  ‘Huh? The Black Widow called quick. I guess it shows how desperate she is. You already knew I do roller derby, right?’

  ‘I’ve heard you knock yourself silly most Saturday nights.’

  ‘No, I’m the knocker. Not the one who gets knocked.’

  ‘Sure, La Diablita, you’re tough. But you’re little. I’ll bet there are some who hurt you right back.’

  Claudia hopped to her feet. ‘Fuh. Nobody out-hurts La Diablita.’

  ‘No, ‘course not.’

  Claudia made a sour expression. ‘You wanna know or not?’

  ‘Know what?’ I teased.

  ‘Jay-mie!’ she w
ailed. ‘Why are you picking on me?’

  I laughed. ‘Sorry. Just having a little fun.’

  ‘Know what I came here to tell you. You’re right. It’s connected to the roller derby.’

  ‘Tell me, La Diablita.’

  ‘You better listen and stop joking around. I think this is important.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Shoot.’

  ‘Got this ho on our team named Hot Wheels, OK? She and me, we don’t talk. I don’t know, we don’t get along.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Anyway, last night I saw something weird. She got picked up by this guy, you could see it was her boyfriend. Yeah, they were like all over each other, you know?’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Know who he was?’

  ‘I give up.’

  ‘You don’t sound very interested. But I think you’re gonna be when I tell you. The guy, the guy Hot Wheels is fuckin’ is Del Wasson, that cop you told me about.’

  The kid was right: she now had my attention one hundred percent.

  ‘Are you sure it was him, Claudia?’

  ‘Sure I’m sure. One of the other Betties told me his name. But that’s not the main thing.’ She gave me a sly look. ‘Are you listening now?’

  ‘You know I am.’

  ‘Bitch’s name, her real name is Sylvia Sanchez. Know where she’s from? South Texas, down near the border. She’s got this funky accent. And that’s not all she’s got.’

  ‘Texas?’ Now I was wide awake. ‘You’re going to tell me she’s got a brother, right? A brother who’s also a cop.’

  A spray of rain, fine as water forced through the mesh of a silk screen, misted the Camino’s windshield as I drove into the nearly empty oceanfront lot.

  At the far end the Great American Novel was parked nose-in to a heap of seaweed. I pulled up nearby, leaned back and looked out over the channel. The sky gleamed with the pearly-violet sheen of the inside of a mussel shell. Silver sunlight leaked through gaps in the low clouds.

  After a few minutes I got out and slammed my door, to let Charlie know I’d come to call.

  A stiff scarred hand parted the hopsack curtain. ‘Jaymie,’ Charlie croaked. ‘Seems like I saw ya just yesterday. Somethin botherin ya, gal?’

  I pulled the small sack of horehound candy from my sweatshirt pocket. ‘Didn’t I tell you I’d drop this by?’