A black Corvette pulled up in front of the house, taking the downhill nice and slow. Robert cared about his ride the way most people cared about living things. I skipped down the porch and met him at the curb.
“Thanks,” I said, getting in. I was more or less on the way from the valley, but it was still an inconvenience for him.
“Fucking hill, man.” He put the car in gear and inched downward.
“When I was a kid, I rode my bike down it, no hands.”
“Bet you did.” He paused briefly. “So, car’s at work, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“You went home with the guy from Hotel K? Sam and Debbie’s friend?”
“You got a problem with it?”
“Naw, man. Just curious what his deal is.”
I didn’t know what he meant, and I didn’t want to know what he meant, either. I just wanted to get my car. I didn’t want to hear about anything Robert might have seen or heard. Nothing. Not a word.
We sat in silence down Temple, to Hill, around the block a few times or ten until we stopped at a light a block from the hotel. It was the same light Jonathan had stopped at when he met me after work and told me he’d always love his ex-wife.
“What did you think his deal was?” I asked.
Robert snapped out of some sort of reverie. “Huh? Who?”
“Jonathan, the guy from Hotel K?”
“Shit, I don’t know. He was there that time you couldn’t talk, then gone, then....coupla weeks, he was in the corner yacking with Debbie and Sam all the time. But not when you were there. Shows up last night, you’re there. I dunno. Just asking.”
“Asking what?”
“Is it serious or what?”
“Yes. It’s serious,” I said.
“All right. Thanks for letting a guy know.”
The light changed, and I laughed to myself.
“What?” He turned into the lot.
“I thought you were going to tell me that you saw him with other women.”
He looked at me and smiled, turning into the employee level. “Guys don’t rat on other guys.”
“Robert! Don’t even—”
“But there was nothing to rat. Seriously. Stop with the girl style. It don’t suit you.” He pulled in next to my little black Honda.
“Fine. I wouldn’t have believed you anyway.” I blooped my car and got out.
Robert cut the engine and pulled his small black duffel from the back. “You think I’d lie?” He slung the duffel over his muscular shoulder. “I’m not saying I woulda minded getting with you for a night, but I wouldn’t lie to do it.”
“I don’t think you’d lie,” I said, getting in my car. “I think you could misunderstand.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. If I saw him with someone, and it was something, I’d know.”
I looked him up and down. “You know what? I believe you.” I turned the ignition. Nothing happened. Just one click. “Uh oh. Do you have time to give me a jump?”
“Turn it again.”
I did. One click, then nothing.
“It’s your starter.” He walked to the front of the car and knocked on the hood. “Pop it.”
I did. He lifted the hood and chocked it up with the metal brace.
“Should I turn it again?”
“Yeah.”
I did. Same. I got out and stood next to Robert as he shone his phone’s light at the engine, analyzing the mass of wires, compartments, and hoses. I knew what most of it was but not how to fix it.
“All right. If you got a bad starter, I can bang it while you kick it over. Sometimes that kinda gets it going. But you need a new one, probably.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, except… It should be right there. Just back of the battery and down, past these wires that serve the electricity. But there’s bolt holes. No starter.”
“What do you mean?”
He looked more closely then got under the car. I leaned down, amazed at how he would just crawl under a chassis out of curiosity.
“Do you want a proper flashlight?” I asked. “I think I have one in the trunk.”
“Nope. I’m telling you. There’s no fucking starter on this car. It got jacked.”
“My starter? Are they expensive?”
“Three hundred. Two? Look, I know it’s weird but...” He shrugged.
“Oh my God,” I said, realizing who would do the surgery required to remove a starter from a twelve-year-old Japanese car. “Fucking Jonathan. Son of a goddamn bitch.”
He’d stranded me. I couldn’t get out to Venice without a car. A cab would cost a fortune, and if a bus that far out of town even existed, it would take hours one way. I couldn’t get the car fixed in time for a meeting in Culver City in the morning. That was why he’d left so easily. He walked away accepting that I had no intention of keeping any promise I made while my legs were spread. I should have known better.
“I gotta get to work,” said Robert. “You wanna call a tow?”
“Nope. I’ll figure it out.”
“How you getting home?”
“I’m not. I’m going to go upstairs and get a whiskey. Then I’m going out. If I can’t drive, I can drink.”
“Debbie’s gonna make you pay for it.”
“Fine. I’m not too broke for a little alcohol.” I took out my phone when we got to the back hall and scrolled to Jessica’s last text. I didn’t want to talk to her. The ice in her voice put me on edge. I had no idea how I would handle our conversation tomorrow.
“You can get some guy at the bar to buy you a few,” Robert said, stopping by the lockers.
“No way.”
—Sorry. Can’t make it out to
Venice tomorrow. Maybe somewhere
more east?—
“Why not? It’s just a drink.”
“It’s cheating.”
“Girls are crazy. I’m tellin’ you, if I were a girl and I had a nice pair, I’d never pay for a drink.”
—My studio in Culver City, then?—
I loved how she managed to keep it on her turf. If I asked her for an Echo Park location, she’d probably manage to find a place she rented, owned, or regularly patronized.
“If you were a girl with a nice pair,” I said, “you’d be the one all the guys wanted to fuck but hated. You’d have a string of one-night or one-week stands until the guy saw you letting someone else buy you drinks. Then you’d only attract the guys looking to spend a little money and put their dicks somewhere comfortable. You’d wake up one morning at fifty years old with a pair that wasn’t so nice any more, and you’d wish you’d bought your own.”
—Great. Thanks for the change.
See you at ten?—
Robert and I walked up together. “You don’t know nothing about men. Sure, we might get a drink for a girl like you to get laid. But being seen with you? That’s what gets other girls. See what I’m sayin’?”
“No. I’m still buying my own drinks.”
“Whatever.”
I sat in the corner in the same spot Jonathan had been known to occupy and tried to arrange a car for the next morning. Darren had work the next day, but once he found out what I was doing, he refused to let me drop him off in the morning and borrow his car, texting me like he was my fucking therapist:
—You have a way of sabotaging
your own happiness. I’m opting out—
A guy with glittering dark brown eyes, messy black hair, and a mouth like a movie star leaned on the bar next to me. “What are you drinking?”
“Piss and vinegar.” I was busy answering Darren’s accusation in a flurry.
“That a new thing?” he asked. “What’s in it?”
I pulled my eyes away from my phone for a second. “Piss. Also, vinegar.”
He laughed. Ignoring my bludgeon of a hint, he leaned toward me. “Let me get you your next one. I’ll piss in it myself.”
I slugged the dregs of my whiskey, letting the ice cube linger on my lips. I parted them to touch my tongue to it, reminding me of Jonathan, the master of melting ice. I slid the glass to Mister Eyes and said, “Piss your little heart out.”
He looked at the empty glass then back at me. I turned to my phone. I should have known better than to be a total bitch, because in L.A. you never knew who you were speaking to, but I missed Jonathan. I was angry at him and I was trying to avoid lashing out.
—Nice try with the car. I’m not Kevin.
You can’t orchestrate my demise—
—Lil can take you anywhere
you want to go—
“Someone break your heart today?” Mister Eyes asked.
“No, but really,” I said, “it’s not personal. I’m sure you’re awesome. But there are a hundred girls in here right now who are available. Okay?”
—Except where I want—
—Please wait until I get back. We
can talk—
—I am officially done talking—
I slipped my phone into my pocket. When I looked up, Debbie was watching me. That alone was not abnormal, but I felt as if they were Jonathan’s eyes watching me talk to a handsome man, and I was suddenly uncomfortable.
I texted around and got some responses. A party in Koreatown. A show in Silver Lake. Nothing appealed. Fuck going out. I walked out to catch one of the cabs that usually waited outside the hotel. If I was seeing Jessica, I’d need a good night’s sleep.