“This isn’t even L.A.,” I said. “And I’m pretty sure someone like Marsellus travels by private plane.”
“People think someone like me travels by private plane,” CJ said, “yet here I am.”
I said, “I doubt you’re even going first class, dressed like that.”
“First class is a waste of money,” he said dismissively. “I just want to get there; I don’t need my ass kissed.”
“Maybe,” I said, “though I’d expect you could use the extra legroom. Speaking of, isn’t your guitar too long for a carry-on?”
“I always clear it with the airline in advance,” he said. “If they lose my bag, that’s no big deal. I wear the same thing two days running-people just assume I went home with a girl and never got back to my room to change. But I lose this”-he nodded at the guitar case-“then we have a problem. I promised some people I’d play for them.”
At that moment, the cocktail waitress approached. “What can I get you to drink today?” she asked him.
CJ shook his head. “Nothing, thanks. I’m not staying.”
She said, “Are you sure? It’d take me no time to bring out a Rolling Rock, or mix up something.”
Women loved to get things for CJ. And because I didn’t want to see him leave quickly, either, I said, “How did you know? He loves Rolling Rock.”
She smiled at me as though we were co-conspirators and went back to the bar.
CJ said, “You want me to miss my flight?”
“I didn’t notice you telling her that if you wanted your ass kissed, you’d go first class.”
He gave me a look and said, “Someday I’ll understand why asking favors and having them granted actually makes you meaner instead of nicer,” putting the newspaper-wrapped, ribboned box on the table between us.
I glanced down, gently shamed by the sight of it. “CJ, I-”
Then the waitress, true to her word, came back with the Rolling Rock. She noticed the box. “Somebody got a present.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Lucky you,” she said, and walked away, CJ watching the swing of her hips as she went.
I tried again: “Listen, I don’t know how to thank you for this. I’ll probably be years repaying you.” If I’m alive to do it. “You don’t even want to know what it’s for?”
“That isn’t a lot of money for me,” he said. “And I know things have been tough for you.”
It was best to let him think I’d let debts pile up, so I didn’t say anything to that.
He drank a little Rolling Rock and then said, “I’m sorry I haven’t been up to see you.”
I shrugged. “It’s okay.”
I saw It in his pale eyes, that he was weighing his next words. Then he said, “You should know… Marsellus’s wife left him.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Or he asked her to move out, I don’t know,” CJ went on. “I just thought you’d want to know. I’m not saying it’s anything to do with Trey. Marriages fail for a lot of reasons.”
“I know,” I said.
But my voice must have sounded leaden, because I saw the sympathy in his gaze as he spoke again. “Hailey, we’ve talked about this,” he said. “That boy’s death-”
“Is something I’m supposed to feel bad about, fault or no fault,” I interrupted. “That’s not being morbid, CJ. It’s being human.”
“You’re right,” he said after a moment. “I get it. I do.” Then: “I just wish things were like they used to be.”
I nodded.
“Hailey,” he said, “the other thing is, it’s not like I want you even farther away, but there are cities a good deal farther away from Marsellus. Places where you could live more out in the open.”
“Like where? Wichita?”
“Well, probably not New York or Miami, those are places that Marsellus and his associates travel to. But I always figured someone like you would do great in Alaska. Or down on the Gulf Coast.”
“Doing what?”
“I’d loan you a little money if you wanted to start a bar. Someplace on the water. You’d never have to pay me back, as long as I could drink there for free, and you learn to cook something Cajun for me when I come down.”
It sounded like paradise, except it was two thousand miles from L.A. and my God-given brother and sister. In that regard, it was purgatory, just like everywhere else. I said, “I can’t cook for shit.”
“For crying out loud, you can learn. Hailey, you’re twenty-four, you have all the time in the world.”
I didn’t mean to wince at that, but I guess I did, because he said, “What?”
“Nothing,” I said. “That sounds nice. I’ll think about it.”
He took a last sip of his beer and said, “I gotta run, sugar.” He got off his stool, picked up the guitar, and kissed me quickly on the lips.
I stayed at the table and watched until he was out of sight. Then I left money for the drinks and joined the crowd headed for the exits, just an average-looking girl in a T-shirt and jeans, carrying ten thousand dollars in cash in a newspaper-wrapped box.
thirty-one
I was on the bus home when my cell rang. I checked the screen: Not surprisingly, it was Serena.
“Prima,” she said, “you gotta come home right away. There’s someone here you need to talk to.”
“Who?”
“Wait and see.”
“I’ve had enough surprises for a while, Warchild.”
“Just come home.”
Serena’s coyness irritated me, but after I hung up I thought about it, and by the time I was getting off the bus, I was pretty sure who was at the house.
Cousin Lara Cortez didn’t look much like Nidia. She had pale olive skin and brown eyes but straight hair chemically lightened almost to blondness. She was in the living room when I got there, on the couch, with a schoolgirl’s bright yellow backpack sitting at her feet.
“Risky and Heartbreaker ran into her at the Pollo Loco,” Serena told me when we briefly conferred in the kitchen. “No one’s asked her anything yet; we were waiting for you.”
I went into the living room, Serena at my heels.
“Are you Hailey?” Lara said as I entered. “You’re the one who got shot.”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes were worried. “Did Nidia?”
“Get shot? I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know if she’s still alive. I’m just trying to piece together what happened.”
Lara pulled out a pack of chewing gum and unwrapped a piece.
“So,” I said, slowing my speech as I reached the critical point, “this is the big thing I need to know from you.” I moved to stand over her, close enough that I could smell her hairspray and the sugary watermelon scent of her gum. I said, “Was Nidia pregnant?”
Lara looked down at her cheap plastic sandals, and then she nodded. She looked up again and shot a nervous glance at Serena, behind me. “Am I in trouble, for not telling about that?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Nidia was scared, she didn’t want to tell even me about the baby. She said she had to get to Mexico right away, because our grandmother was sick. But I knew that wasn’t true; my mother has a letter from Grandma every couple of weeks, so I knew she was fine. I said to Nidia, ‘What is it really?’ and she started crying and told me about the baby. She said its grandfather would steal it from her and she’d never get it back, that the old man was already looking for her and she had to get to someplace safe. She knew I knew Warchild a little through Teaser, and she thought that Warchild would know how to make it happen. I said I’d ask for help, but then she begged me not to say the real reason. She wanted me to tell the story about our grandma.”
She turned still-worried eyes to Serena. “I didn’t want to lie, but she said it was too dangerous for people to know about this.”
“More dangerous not to know,” Serena corrected. “Hailey drove into an ambush blind because none of us knew what was really up.”