"He's an orphan?"
"Yes."
"There are legalities, Freddy."
"Fuck the legalities; he needs us."
"I don't know."
"I do. I want you back."
"Why? You think it will be different this time?"
"I know it will be."
"Oh, God, Freddy!"
"We'll never know unless we try."
"That's true, but I just don't know! Besides, I've got two more days down here at the convention."
"We'll never know unless we try."
"It's a standoff, Freddy."
"It always has been, Lor."
Lorna dug into her purse and pulled out her keys. She detached the ones for the house in Laurel Canyon and handed them to me. She smiled, and brushed tears out of her eyes. "We'll never know unless we try," she said.
We held each other tightly for several minutes, until we heard applause coming from the banquet room.
"I have to go now," Lorna said. "I'm on in a few minutes."
"I'll see you at home."
"Yes."
We kissed, and Lorna composed herself, opened the door and moved into the banquet room to the sound of dying applause for the last speaker.
As she limped to the dais, I thought of Wacky Walker and wonder and the constituency of the dead and mad Dudley Smith and poor Larry Brubaker and orphanhood and the strictures of my once inviolate heart. Then I thought of redemption, and got my car and caught the freeway back to L.A.
About the author
JAMES ELLROY was born in 1948 in Los Angeles, the city that serves as backdrop for his acclaimed crime fiction. His novels include L.A. Confidential (which was made into an Academy Award-winning motion picture in 1997), Because the Night, Brown's Requiem, The Big Nowhere, White Jazz, The Black Dahlia, and American Tabloid.