Who could be calling at this ungodly hour, Julia wondered, groggily alarmed as she rolled over, grabbing the ringing telephone on the table by the bed.
"Hello?" she mumbled, still dazed by sleep.
"Julia?"
"Um..."
"It's Robin."
"Why are you calling so late?" Julia complained, rubbing her eyes. She was irritated. It felt like the middle of the night. She glanced at the clock and saw it was a little past 2:00 a.m.
"I'm afraid to drive right now. Wondered if you could come pick me up."
"What's wrong?" Julia asked curiously. His words were cracked up by the static of a cell phone, but he was also slurring in a strange way.
"Can't drive," Robin said. He started chuckling. "I can hardly see."
"Are you drunk?" Julia was concerned, but she was also getting angry.
"Not the usual way. See, I can't go home. And I can't drive. So I thought I would call the beautiful Julia."
He was definitely drunk out of his mind, Julia decided indignantly, the way he had elongated the word beautiful, making it into four syllables. "Sleep it off, Robin, and call me in the morning. Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"You didn't call me tonight." He had the voice of a drunken sod, very sad and slightly accusatory, as though by not calling she had caused great pain. "You call every night, so I was worried about the pretty Julia."
Now that she was awake, she suddenly felt like talking to Robin, even if he was slightly inebriated and had awakened her from a sound sleep. "Well, something scary happened this afternoon. Quijada caught me trying to open his desk drawer. But I found the safe and I think I know where the combination is."
There was no answer. Julia heard a retching sound over the telephone, then the unmistakable noises of Robin being violently sick to his stomach.
"Robin!" Julia yelled into the receiver.
"I'm so sick, Julia," Robin said. He really sounded pathetic.
"Where are you?"
"Under the pier at Santa Monica beach."
"Did you buy some drugs?" Julia asked, suddenly suspicious that he had gone and done the thing he had promised to refrain from, at least for a while.
"Yeah. It was one of the leads you gave me. But they made me try the stuff. Filthy drugs made me sick. And there was no one to call. I can't drive. I can barely walk."
"I'll be right there," Julia said, alarmed. He sounded awful. "Don't move, Robin. I'll come pick you up. You might have to go to the hospital, get your stomach pumped, if you took bad drugs."
"No! You have to promise. No hospital." His words were harsh and uncompromising.
Julia knew the correct policy when dealing with drunks. She had been to enough college beer bashes to learn the rules. Agree with everything they say. Treat them like children. Never argue and make them mad, because they won't remember anything in the morning, anyway. "Right, Robin. No hospital. I'm coming right now."
"I really appreciate it, Julia. Oh, Julia, make sure you're not being followed. Quijada is having you followed, you know. Last couple of days. I was tailing the guy following you. It's a long story. Too sick to tell you now."
Julia started to ask him about who was following her, as she heard him retching again, and then the phone went dead.
"Goddamnit!" Julia was cursing as she frantically pulled clothes out of a drawer and threw them on the floor, searching for her oldest and most decrepit jeans. She finally found them, after nearly emptying the drawer and pulled them on. She dug for a tee shirt and wind breaker in the pile and put them on too. Running out the door, Julia noticed she was barefoot. She turned around and pulled on a pair of running shoes. This was unbelievable.
Santa Monica Boulevard was nearly devoid of traffic and it was easy to see if anyone was following her, but Julia was constantly glancing in her rear-view mirror all the way to the beach, in a state of paranoia. Quijada had already been following her? Even before this afternoon? Someone must have noticed her taking suspicious photographs, although she had believed she was being cautious.
She kept just under the speed limit. She would have loved to race along the deserted street, but she didn't want to be delayed by a traffic ticket.
When she got to the pier, all the parking lots with access to Santa Monica beach seemed to be closed, with chains across them, so Julia had to park on the highway. Then she jogged through one of the empty parking lots down to the beach. Running in the sand was harder, as the sand kept getting in her shoes and it was so soft it felt as though she was moon walking, like Michael Jackson, instead of moving forward. Then, finally, she was under the pier.
She hadn't had time to notice how spooky it was because she had been moving so fast, but the waves were crashing against the pilings, making the wooden boardwalk creak in a weird, ghostly way. Someone was walking on the pier and the footsteps echoed hollowly. On top of that, it was foggy down here by the ocean. Tendrils of smoke-like fog would obscure parts of the underside of the pier, then it would become focused again, as the thick mist moved in the air with the breeze.
She stood, out of breath, by one of the enormous damp wooden supports and looked around. There was only one man under the bridge. He was coming toward her slowly, but she knew it wasn't Robin.
The guy was big, fat and bald. As the man drew closer Julia looked around in consternation. There wasn't anyone except the huge man staggering toward her. Maybe Robin was sitting down behind one of the pilings and she couldn't see him. This big guy was scaring her, just because he was coming closer. She stood there, unable to move, because she was totally breathless. When the man was about twenty feet away, he said, "Julia?"
It was Robin's voice. Julia had turned away to run, but she stopped and looked closer. There was a partial moon, reflecting light off of the waves, so she finally saw his face. But it wasn't Robin. It looked like him, sort of, but his eyes were brown and his teeth rotten. He didn't have any hair.
Julia felt like she was in a hysterical sort of nightmare as she turned in horror and ran down the length of the pier toward the ocean, wildly searching for Robin with her eyes all the way, and wondering if the whole thing had been a trick. Someone who looked like Robin, with his very voice, had lured her here, probably with the intention of killing her in this lonely spot.
When she got to the water, Julia turned around. The fat bald guy was still staggering toward her and as she watched he pulled off a snug cap. It looked like Robin's thick, black hair had sprung up, complete with the small white stripes at the temples. Then the man staggered and almost fell as he came slowly closer. He stopped again. "Watch me, Julia."
He was taking off his jacket, which he dropped to the sand. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it too. He started unwinding what looked like carpet padding from around his middle. It took a while because he had been covered from his hips to the top of his chest in long strips of the padding.
"I don't believe it," Julia said angrily. "You scared me to death. And what happened to your eyes? And your teeth? They look like they rotted."
Robin sat down in the sand. He was laughing so hard he couldn't possibly remain on his feet.
"This isn't funny, Robin," Julia warned, moving closer to him.
Now Robin was lying on his back, gasping and laughing. He was naked from the waist up, just like the first time she had seen him, and that made her even more angry. His chest looked enormous and dropped suddenly at the concave stomach.
"You think this is hysterical? Wake me up and then scare me to death? Get up, Robin. Let's go."
"Away from the beach? In the moonlight? Lighten up a little, Julia. Look at the waves. It's beautiful. I was mesmerized by the waves for about an hour before I called you. Oh shit." He turned over and started having dry heaves. His body convulsed, but evidently he had already vomited all that his body contained.
Julia sat beside him and waited for him to recover. It really was beautiful here on the beach, sitting under the pier. The rhythmic sound of the waves calmed her with their ceaseless flow, almost hypnotizing her with the sight of the moonlight in their foam. And now that she was with Robin it didn't seem spooky at all. She knew she was safe. Even in his condition now, drunk as a skunk, she was sure he would defend her with his life. She would have to take him to the hospital, though. He was really sick.
The dry vomiting episode seemed to have taken most of Robin's strength. He was shivering, all of a sudden, and Julia handed him his shirt. She then had to help him put it on because he seemed abruptly weak as a kitten. She brushed sand off of his back and chest before she put the shirt around his shoulders. The skin felt like smooth, hard wood. As she pulled his shirt across his chest and buttoned it, his skin was cold beneath her fingers. She remembered thinking previously that he seemed to exude waves of heat. Now he was shaking like he was palsied with a dangerous chill.
"You should have left the padding on, Robin. You're freezing."
"You could hug me," Robin suggested. Then he laughed uproariously, showing his nastily coated teeth. She wondered if he had used tar on them. They were hideously spotted black and brown. It was totally repulsive.
"Right," Julia said, getting irritated again. "Put on your jacket."
Robin nodded obediently, but just sat there, so Julia had to get up and put the jacket around him. It was about three sizes too big, used to cover all the padding which had made him look fat. As she pulled on the sleeves, his arms and shoulders were very hard and heavy. "Can't you wipe that stuff off of your teeth?"
"Oh. No wonder she won't hug me. Forgot." He laughed again and went laboriously through his pockets for a handkerchief. Julia liked the laugh because it reassured her that he might be drunk, but he wasn't too sick. It was a healthy laugh, deep and booming, showing his dimples. His handkerchief was monogrammed, just like the ones she had seen in the hospital and at the restaurant. He wiped off his teeth and then popped out the brown contacts. "Robin again. And all yours." He stood up and gave a little bow in her direction, with his arms straight out. He staggered and almost fell.
"Is this the way you behave when you drink?" Julia asked as she helped him navigate back up the beach. He was leaning on her heavily.
"I am evidently a very happy drunk. From what I hear. Very nice and polite. Whoops," he almost fell. He didn't seem to be able to walk in a straight line, but she had the odd feeling that he was still very intelligent under the influence of whatever he had taken, and was holding himself under strict control.
Getting him up the sandy hill to the highway took all her strength. He was leaning on her, an arm around her neck, breathing harshly. At the top they both sank down on a bench, panting, barely able to move.
"Did you give them money?" Julia asked.
"A small down payment."
"I'll pay you back. I don't want to argue with you now, but you know I didn't want you to do this. Those drugs would have killed a weak person, the way you responded."
"Read all about it," Robin muttered. "They described flu like symptoms and dizziness."
"You didn't take heroin?" Julia asked, truly appalled at the thought.
"Kill my parents, if they knew," Robin said. "No hospital."
"No," Julia agreed. "You certainly don't need a drug record."
"Ruin my career," Robin muttered, nodding to himself.
"I'm so sorry I got you into this," she said, shaking her head with horrible remorse. "I didn't mean for you to go to these extremes. You could have hurt yourself. Or killed yourself, Robin. And I just couldn't stand that."
He nodded to himself. "I knew she was sweet." He seemed to be in a world of his own, the way he was responding to her conversation. It scared Julia even more than the physical problems he had moving and talking.
"I mean it, Robin. I'll go back to Boston, right now, if you won't promise to behave yourself. What if you got hooked on drugs?"
"Never," Robin said adamantly. He looked like he was going to go to sleep, his head almost resting on his chest, so she hauled him up and staggered with him to the car.
She had to lean him against the car and then open the passenger side. Getting him inside was a nightmare. He was very heavy. It felt like trying to manipulate a huge and heavy, rubbery doll.
Julia drove into Westwood and stopped in front of his apartment building, where they had met a few nights ago.
She shook him awake. He looked around groggily. "Where are we?"
"I took you home, Robin," Julia said gently. She had been reflecting on the fact that she had caused this man to overdose on dangerous drugs to help her. It actually scared her to death. She couldn't stand the responsibility. He was a beautiful man, she had been gazing at him sleeping next to her in the car, and he might have died tonight.
"I don't really live here."
"Tell me where you want to go," Julia said gently. "I'll take you anywhere you want."
"The Beverly Hills Hotel. I want to be near you."
Was he worried about her, Julia wondered, still alarmed about the fact that Quijada was spying on her. Maybe that was why Robin wanted to be near her. But there might be a simpler explanation. Maybe he lived with his parents and didn't want them to see him in this condition. Or maybe he lived with a girl. She really didn't know anything about Robin except that he was a very intelligent mechanic. She had never believed this place where they had met was his apartment. Especially not after she had seen that bedroom. Even hardly knowing him, she had been sure he wouldn't have decorated a bedroom in that fashion. Julia started the car and headed toward Beverly Hills.
When they got to the hotel and parked, Robin had roused himself and was digging through his jacket pockets again. He found his wallet and produced a gold credit card. He handed it to her, very gravely. "You'll have to check in for me."
"No, Robin. I really want to get you the room tonight."
He was shaking his head stubbornly.
Julia sighed. She would have to keep him in her room. There was a small couch she could sleep on, and she was too worried about his condition. He might have seizures or convulsions from the drugs. She would keep watch and make sure he was all right. If anything was really wrong she could call a private physician to come to the hotel.
She manhandled him out of the car and helped him walk on a path that meandered through the lush grounds of the hotel toward her private bungalow.
"Where are we going?" Robin asked.
"My room," Julia panted. She was almost bent over, trying to support his weight as he reeled from side to side. They slowly progressed forward.
"Compromising situation," Robin said warningly. His voice was still blurry from the drug.
"Don't worry about it," Julia said, but she started looking around the pathway that led to her place. There were security guards who patrolled the grounds all night long and she saw one of them standing above the pathway, watching curiously as they made their slow staggering way to her apartment. He probably thought they were both inebriated. The whole staff would have the news by tomorrow that she had tottered in, at three a.m., with a drunk.
She propped Robin against the wall, got her key and opened the door. Then she pulled Robin inside. She had left the light on, so she just took him to the bed, unwound his arm from around her neck and gave him a push. He fell over like a tree, flat on his face. Julia made sure his nose wasn't squashed against the bed, so he could breath, and fell into a chair to rest for a moment.
Julia rubbed her aching shoulder. The guy was built like a brick and she felt sore as hell as she started putting the clothing, which she had thrown in a pile on the floor, back into the drawer. Then she went to the little built-in refrigerator and checked inside. Milk and crackers. Perfect for someone with an upset stomach.
When she turned around she saw Robin watching her with large blue, bloodshot eyes. He was propped on one elbow, lying on the bed.
"I'm really sorry about this, Julia." He looked extremely apologetic, and very handsome.
"I'm sorry too," Julia said. "Do you think you could take a little milk?"
"Yes. I'm very thirsty."
"I have Gatorade, too."
"Let me try the milk. Bring the waste basket over, in case this doesn't work."
Julia watched him drink. He started slowly, but kept wanting more and finished a whole quart.
Then she started giving him crackers, one at a time.
"Tastes like crunchy Styrofoam," Robin remarked.
"I know. They never use enough salt on the diet crackers."
"I want to take a shower and brush my teeth, but I'm so tired," Robin said.
"In the morning. You just rest now." Julia went to the end of the bed and took off his shoes.
"You're being so nice."
"Don't worry. I'll be mad as hell in the morning," Julia said soothingly.
"Okay." He settled back and was instantly asleep.
Julia covered him with a blanket and a quilt. He had stopped shivering but she didn't want him to catch a chill. She picked up his head and put a pillow under it, to make sure he could breath normally. Then she sat down on the couch across from the bed and watched him. She was sleepy and kept nodding off, but she knew she couldn't let herself go to sleep in case there was a medical emergency. When she was soundly asleep even an earthquake would not awaken her; she slept like the dead. She was afraid that if she fell off nothing would wake her now that she was so exhausted.
Julia knew she could call an ambulance, now that Robin was asleep, but didn't want to. A drug rap was very serious, and Robin already had some kind of trouble he was going through in court.
Sitting there, watching him, reminded her of the night she had spent in the hospital, watching her brother, Brian. Suddenly she was melancholy. She wondered where her life was going. How things had gone so wrong. She was happy in her vocation and would always have that, she thought, consoling herself that work would make her happy, but even as she did so she knew it wasn't true. Her personal life was a sad shambles. She had lost her wonderful brother. There was nothing in Boston for her except a sad and one-sided relationship with Alexander, which would never go anywhere. When she remembered his kiss at the airport, she felt totally repulsed. It was depressing. He was supposed to be the best and the brightest of the eligible men in Boston. Everyone thought she was so lucky that he was in love with her. Everyone had already decided she should marry him. And Julia did want to be married. She wanted children more than anything on this earth. She wanted to give her own children all the things she had missed when she had lost her own parents. She would be splendid at it, she just knew it. But here she was, almost thirty years old and not a man in sight to give her the marvelous children she craved, and a warm home life that she had longed for ever since her own wonderful, caring parents had died.
And now she was in danger, she supposed, because Quijada was suspicious enough that he was having her followed. To top it all, a very nice man had overdosed on drugs, trying to help her.
Julia tried to rationalize that it was not really her responsibility that Robin had taken the drugs. She had made it abundantly clear, in fact, that she had not wanted him to attempt a drug buy. But the guy obviously had a silly crush on her. Why else would he do something so foolhardy and dangerous? She would have to fire him.
Sometime later she noticed that she had fallen sideways on the couch, with her legs still on the floor, and she could hear the water running in the bathroom. Robin must be okay if he was taking a shower, she thought drowsily, and then she was instantly asleep again.
In her dream she felt warm and cared for. Someone was carrying her and put her to bed. In the dream she was a little child again and her father was gently covering her. He was whispering that he loved her. She had a mother and father and her brother, Brian, was still alive. She was innocently calm and content as she went to sleep, sure all was right with the world, snugly oblivious to the fact that her whole family would be taken from her in the future. The bed was cold for a while, but it got warm again as she slept.