Forty-Five

“You’re sure this is the right time?” Emma shouted into Stick’s helmet as they rolled along Ventura Boulevard, past a crowd of valley chicks and their nearly hysterical mothers outside of Tower Records, which featured a sign reading, DELRAY TODAY. He put his hand over hers where it held onto his jacket, and gave it a gentle squeeze. At the light, he turned back to look at her.

“There is no right time, Emma. But I think he’s going to be cool.” He paused and added emphatically. “I know he’s going to be cool.”

“What did you tell him?” Her words were lost in the rev of the engine as they pulled away from the light. Once they reached the alley beside the studio in Toluca Lake, Emma hesitated getting off the bike as she removed her helmet and shook out her hair. “You said your girlfriend wants to meet him? Oh God, Richard.” She checked herself in the bike’s mirror.

“Sorry. But you wanted to surprise him. It was the best I could come up with. It’s not like a fan thing or anything; he knows you dig the music, and I had to say that you were there that first night.”

In the studio, Roc had his back to them, hunched over an acoustic guitar, tuning. “Hey,” he called out in reply to Stick’s greeting. “I’ve got this cool two-chord vamp thing, kinda reminds me of some of the stuff your band is into.” He turned to face Stick and saw Emma at his side, holding his hand, quiet and vulnerable. A long, speechless moment followed as she and Roc locked gazes.

“Tabby.” His voice, soft, sounded like he was making an observation to himself.

After a shorter pause, she barely whispered her reply. “Emma.”

“Emma, yeah.” He swallowed and stared at her, starting to smile. “Emma … it’s really good to meet you. I mean, I know you, but …” No more words came as Roc gently put the guitar on its stand and walked over to embrace his daughter for the first time. Stick slipped silently out the studio door.

“Dad … I missed not knowing you. I was going to come to California to find you and then … I’m just glad I’m not too late.”

“You look so much like your mother, it’s incredible. How is she?”

“The same. Obsessed, intense, relentless, and totally loving.”

Roc laughed at the description of the woman he had once fallen in love with. “Did you get any of that along with the blue eyes?”

“Maybe.” Emma smiled and wiped her sleeve across her eyes.

“So many times I wanted to meet you, but Tabatha had it all worked out, and I just went along with her wishes. I hope you know that I loved you anyway.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah, I guess in my way I did. I blamed her big time when she finally told me that James wasn’t my dad. I was also incredibly relieved; he’s such a geek. I mean he’s nice but much more acceptable as a stepdad, you know.”

“Hey, you want a drink? All mod cons here at Eddie’s joint. So you and Ed’s son are happening? Small world getting smaller. That’s cool; he’s a great kid. Wonderful musician too.”

“I met him at a Maureen’s Ankle gig, and he told me his dad had worked with you. It couldn’t have been any weirder.”

“No kidding.” Roc awkwardly put his arm around Emma’s shoulders as they walked to the kitchen. “So, what were you doing in L.A. anyway? I get the feeling we’ve got a lot to talk about.” He smiled at the post-it on the fridge door. “More of Rich’s handiwork?”

What can be explained is not poetry – Carl Sandburg

Emma giggled, and it broke his heart a little bit to think about the eighteen years he’d missed. She brushed her hair out of those Chagall-blue eyes, and they sparkled at him. “I came out here to find you.”

Two hours later, they were on the patio, laughing about the cellphone call during the tribute.

“Hey, can I come up?” Stick had never seen Roc’s room.

“Sure, but I didn’t clean up for you.” Stick joined the father and daughter reunion and shared the good feelings in the air. “Emma says I have to call you Richard. That cool with you?”

Stick just laughed.

“Dad … I can’t believe I’m using that word … can we be serious for a moment?” He shrugged in response. “Do you have copies of any of your original agreements with Karl?”

Roc smiled and gestured toward his tiny room. “Not handy, why?”

As she pulled out her PalmPilot, Stick got up. “Need anything at the store?”

The two young women in nearly matching sweatsuits leaned on the railing in Palisades Park overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the Gold Coast, and to the south, the Ferris wheel that dominated the Santa Monica pier. Both had their hair tied back and were sipping on a water bottle. Julie gripped her sneaker and stretched out her leg. “This was a great idea; I’m so glad you called me.”

“Well, I have to do this. We Burnette women tend to acquire a bit of a caboose.”

Julie laughed. “We could be sisters, you know.”

“Well, sure, why not?” Bobbie replied. “You be the cool one, and I’ll be the one that says things like ‘aw shucks’ and ‘give ’em what for,’ okay?”

Julie laughed and tried out her best southern belle. “Hey, sugar, I’ve been to a few tractor pulls in my time, and the Marshall Tucker Band is all right with me, y’all.”

“And I’m so totally all about that,” Bobbie giggled in bad Valley speak. “Or not.” Looking in the direction of the pier, she said, “I used to come here about every day when I first got to town and didn’t know a soul.”

“My dad used to bring me here before he split. I remember being carried on his shoulders through the crowd. The old wooden carousel he took me on is still running you know. Now it just seems messed up down there and makes me nervous.”

“Yeah, I heard someone got himself shot on the pier last year.” Bobbie nodded seriously.

“Someone gets shot just about everywhere in this town,” Julie added ruefully.

They started walking north toward Arizona Avenue, where Julie’s BMW was parked. A kid in a pink helmet wearing a hell-bent expression flew by on a little pink bike with training wheels; a panting dad ran just behind. Under an ancient tree, a group of Goths smoked in the shade. A wheezing geezer with a walker shook her head disapprovingly in their direction as she laboured along the path in a wool suit.

“Listen, Julie, I called you ’cause I need some serious sorting out, and after our conversation at the Delray thing, you just seemed to me like a real understanding person.” Bobbie hesitated, but Julie smiled encouragingly, so she continued. “If there is any chance that Roc is still alive, and I am truly starting to entertain that thought, I need to know.” She gathered her emotions in and went on. “Because every day without him is miserable, and I’m afraid to believe the thing that I want most to be true.”

Julie stopped and hugged Bobbie, who continued, “Now I didn’t want to lose it here with y’all, but I feel like you understand; and you’re very sweet to put up with the likes of me, carrying on like this.”

Julie placed her hands on Bobbie’s shoulders and spoke quietly and calmly. “Bobbie Jean, I think it’s totally possible that Roc is alive.” As Bobbie sighed deeply and closed her eyes, Julie said, “But I’m very worried about what’s going to happen.” She gestured to a park bench, and they sat down. Bobbie splashed some of her water on her face and tried to smile as Julie related her conversation with Marie. “I’m not certain she was serious. Maybe it’s a cultural thing; I don’t really know Marie that well. We went to school together then met again at a gala opening party for a new rehab place in Bel Air and had a few drinks and started hanging out, you know. But this Uncle character, I don’t know about him at all. Maybe you know him better; she plays him like a violin, and that’s what makes me nervous. Marie’s a laugh but is totally without talent, in case you hadn’t noticed. I mean she couldn’t carry a tune in a Humvee, but he bought into her whole singer fantasy, and she’s going to stop at nothing to keep that fantasy alive. I’m sorry Bobbie, tell me I’m crazy.”

A tense expression settled on Bobbie’s normally gentle face, and she slowly shook her head. “I wouldn’t put anything past that weasel. Wait till I tell you what he pulled with me. The photograph was just the appetizer.” Bobbie described her encounter with the evil eagle the previous day.

Julie sat silently in amazement and tried to suppress a smile. “You mean your gig is having sex with guys on your car phone? Wow! How do you get paid?”

Bobbie smiled back, a little wearily. “Oh, yeah, I guess that part is a mite bizarre, isn’t it? You see, I started it with one wrong number the week I couldn’t make the rent, just after I got here; and it was easy and, strange to tell, kind of a kick. I guess we’re all weirdos at heart.”

“Oh, don’t get me started,” Julie laughed. “So, Uncle just pulled up beside you on Montana, rolled down his window, and leered at you. He didn’t even say anything?”

“Yep, just looking as pleased as can be with his slimy old self. Oh, he might have said something about vultures, but I was just thinking about escaping before something really awful happened. You can imagine.”

“No shit. What a bastard. So, it sounds to me like he’s trying to scare you off, in case you were getting any thoughts of trying to find Roc.”

Bobbie mulled over the thought. “Could be, Julie. I don’t know. I’m confused. I keep wondering why Roc would want to pretend to be dead.” She pushed away the memory of the phone screw-up.

A first-time blader rolled off the path in front of them and crashed into a tree. “Ouch! Well, let’s find out. What’s that engineer’s name?”

“You mean Eddie, real nice fella with a pot belly, thinks he’s a DJ?”

“Yeah, him. If anyone knows, he does. Let’s call him.” Julie took her cellphone out of the pant leg pocket of her sweat suit.

“What if Uncle answers?” Bobbie asked apprehensively. “I couldn’t deal with the likes of him.”

“Don’t worry. He and Marie are away on their reunion-in- Montecito weekend. She’d been giving him shade until the Delray show, and he’ll be very preoccupied.” Julie raised an eyebrow suggestively, which made Bobbie smile. “They’re probably up to their necks in a tub of oil, drinking Mai Tais as we speak.”

“Yech,” said Bobbie as Julie dialed information.

“You ready, doll?” Julie handed her the phone.

“No. But what the hay.” The operator responded, and Bobbie made her request. As she waited for the connection, she said to Julie, “They pay by credit card, by the way.”

“Let me know if you want to franchise.” Julie grinned as someone answered at the studio.

Marie returned naked from greeting the room service kid who had arrived with two Mai Tais and a giant plate of fries.

“What do you donate him here? In France, the tip is inside the bill.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was an educational experience for him. Don’t worry, my love.” Uncle lifted a drink to toast nothing in particular as Marie eased back into the tub, causing a wave of pink bubbles to cascade over the edge. “By the way, what is the difference between fries and pommes frites, anyway? Are they the same? It sounds so much better to say, oui, I’ll have frites with my ratatouille.” His pronunciation sounded like he was working up a furball.

“Oh, you silly Uncle,” she tittered, accepting his offer of a miniature sword with a maraschino cherry and a slice of pineapple, and offering a little trout pout in gratitude.

“Did you realize, my little coquette, that Sir Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh were married here at the San Ysidro Ranch in a midnight full moon ceremony?” Uncle purred.

“Mais oui, but did she not go off her bonkers a little later?” Marie deflected the direction of the conversation.

Not to be deterred, Uncle pressed on in romance mode. “And JFK and Jackie O honeymooned here?”

“So many secrets he had from her, non?” Marie dipped a fry in Uncle’s drink. “Not true love, I am thinking.”

Uncle could see where this was heading, even in his blurry state. He looked across the rolling Montecito hillside of the ranch and thought about the little jewel box burning a hole in his overnight bag. “Surely, a soupçon of mystery is a good thing. You know how I love to surprise you, my little bonbon.” He eased around the steaming tub to get closer to her.

“But some secrets grow large, and maybe they will keep us apart.” She floated the bowl of fries between them purposefully. “But I’m certain you could make my uncertain go away,” she smiled girlishly, “if you want to.” Negotiating through the bubbles until she was behind a confused Uncle, Marie began to massage his smooth head with the contents of a nearby bottle of Ultraglide. He slowly sank in the tub until he rested against her chest, as she made circular motions over his bobbing head. “Hmmm, I look in my crystal ball, and I see that if someone were to go away, it would allow you and me to become so close, maybe forever close.”

“Mmmm …” Uncle drifted into a numb ecstasy.