“You could have tried anyway.” When I didn’t respond, she shrugged her bony shoulders and dismissed all of it. “He has a new Bigfoot Room. I don’t know where it is, though. I have a straight job now, and I’m a goddamn citizen. You should ask Tyalee. I think he’s still in touch with all of them.”
“Where—”
“Ty has a straight job, too. He’s a trainer at a gym now.”
“Do you know the name of the place?”
“Nope. But it’s across the street from that jungle restaurant. Remember that place you took me to, where everything came with sweet potatoes and mangoes?”
“I remember.”
“His gym is in the shopping mall across the street. Don’t ask me about the others. I have nothing to do with those people now.”
“Thank you.” There should have been more for me to say, but I wasn’t sure how to come at it. “How’s Mouse? I mean, how’s Tommy?” Mouse was Violet’s younger brother, and I’d forgotten that we weren’t supposed to use his nickname anymore.
“Gone,” she said. “He skipped town.”
I knew her well enough to know she was holding something back, but if she didn’t want to talk, I couldn’t force her. I supposed I didn’t have the right, not after five years, but I was still concerned about her. “Are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “You’re the one who looks like a hungry ghost.”
As I went to the door, Jasmin came out of the kitchen. She watched me leave with a careful expression and, just before the door shut behind me, I heard her say very clearly: “That man scared me.”
It was nearly noon, and L.A. felt like a blast furnace. I walked slowly to my car. There was no way I could avoid a ring of sweat under my arms and back, but I could keep it small by going slow.
Unfortunately, my Escort was a Seattle car. The wiper blades were brand new, but it didn’t have air-conditioning.
It was a short two miles to the restaurant, and the gym was exactly where she’d said it’d be. The name was EVERYTHING ATHLETIC, and a sign in the glass door announced that it was the home of the founder of the original “Cardio-eira” classes. There were no windows, so I just pushed my way inside.
A sign at the front desk said that all of Justin Gage’s Cardio-eira classes had been canceled until the end of the month. As I was reading it, a pale young woman with dyed-black hair at the front desk asked if she could help me. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and her face was puffy. She had been crying.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, more out of surprise than concern.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I just … Are you a member?”
“I’m not. I’ve never been here before.”
“Okay. You should know that the Cardio-eira classes have been canceled, and we don’t know when they’ll be starting again. If ever.”
“What happened?” I asked, because she seemed to expect me to.
“Justin was assaulted last night. Right out in the parking lot. He’s in the hospital, and we don’t know … he’s in bad shape.”
“I’m very sorry,” I said. “Did they catch the guy who did it?”
“No,” she said. “They have no idea who did it.”
A heavily muscled black woman stepped in to join the conversation. “We do have other trainers here.” I noticed that her name tag read MANAGER along the bottom. “And while they may not have the same infomercial cachet that Justin has, they’re really quite excellent.”
“What about Tyalee Murphy? Is he here?”
The manager was carefully neutral. “He’s finishing up with a member at the moment. Are you a friend of his?”
“I’d like to talk to him, if I could.”
“Why don’t you have a seat?”
She gestured toward an overstuffed little couch beside a rack of swim goggles. I sat. The manager typed something into a handheld device without looking at me. The weepy employee handed out keys and towels to people who entered, and collected them from people who left. I heard the sad tale of Justin Gage several more times over the course of five minutes. He was apparently a much-loved figure, and no one had any idea what had happened to him, and wasn’t this city just awful?
Eventually, a tall black man rushed into the lobby and said: “You paged me?”
The manager pointed toward me, but I was already standing out of the chair. Ty turned toward me and looked me up and down. He didn’t recognize me.
He looked different, too. He’d shaved his head and his chin and, while he’d always been addicted to the gym, now he was almost a parody of fitness. His uniform—a black polyester shirt with the gym logo over the heart—was tight enough to show off all the curves of his muscles.
“Ty, it’s me. Ray Lilly.”
“Ray!” He almost shouted. He stepped toward me, and for a moment I thought he’d hug me. Instead, he wrapped his gloved hand around mine and pumped, smiling broadly. “Good to see you again, man. Good to see you. What brings you back to town?”
I was almost sorry to answer him. “A little trouble, unfortunately.” Melly had said I’d killed him, but he didn’t look unhappy. I needed to find out what he knew, especially where the magic had come from, but I couldn’t do it in a crowded gym.
“Hey, if there’s anything I can do, name it.” He glanced back through the door to the workout area beyond, as though he hadn’t meant to promise so much. “I mean, things are a little busy right now …”
I wasn’t sure what to make of him. We’d always gotten along, but I didn’t think we were close enough for him to be so glad to see me again. “Ty, I’m looking for the new Bigfoot Room.”
“No problem! It’s at a place called the Roasted Seal over on Kalibel Ave. Remember that Baja Fresh where Mouse puked in the toilet? Right there. I’m not part of that scene anymore, you understand. I still know the guys, but I don’t do stuff with them anymore. Not much, anyway.”
Everyone had grown up and turned into citizens. Except me. “Thanks.”
“Listen, um …” He glanced back into the workout area. “I’m a little busy right now. We’re short-handed today and I’m covering another dude’s clients. Plus, I really need the money.” He laughed a little at himself, and at the slightly desperate note in his voice. “But I’ll catch up with you soon, okay? You’re okay, aren’t you? You look a little worn thin. Take care of yourself in this heat. And thank you, man. Thank you.”
He checked his watch and rushed back inside. I headed out to my car.
I sat behind the wheel and closed my eyes. I’d taken Vi to the Baja Fresh many times and I could picture the intersection clearly, but I needed a moment to remember where that intersection was in relation to this one.
Then I remembered and I opened my eyes. Out of perverse curiosity, I angled the rearview mirror so I could see myself. Jasmin and Ty were right; I looked bad. I needed a week’s worth of sleep, but I wasn’t going to get it.
Ten minutes later, I was parking outside a church. The Baja Fresh was gone, but the other businesses—a sushi place, a dry cleaners, a shoe store—were the same. The Roasted Seal was just down the street. The front was made entirely of glass, but the view inside was blocked by an amateurish painting of a sad-faced seal perched on jagged rocks. The seal looked at me as if I’d ruined its day with hairspray and car exhaust. In the dust above the door, someone had traced BIGFOOT ROOM.
I pushed the door open and went inside.
It wasn’t as dark as I expected. In fact, the place was almost nice. There were circular black tables seeded around the main floor with a surprising amount of space between them. Each table had a little light shining down on it. Ambiance.
There was a row of booths at the far end of the room and a bar against the wall behind me. Everything was polished black stone and hexagonal floor tiles. There was also sawdust on the floor, which didn’t seem to fit.