“Is that what you think it was?”
“I’m saying I don’t care what it was. You want me there, and my answer is yes. I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t really need this.”
“Tell me what you need … exactly.”
“A plane ticket. From the closest airport that’ll get me there. Right now.”
She paused, then said, “I want to help, Will, but I need to talk to the headmaster’s office. Can I call you back in five?”
“Yes.”
She clicked off. More sirens wailed in the distance, drawing in from three directions. He had stopped across from the local taxi office, a small company that serviced the Valley and ran shuttles to southland airports. Their storefront was lit up inside, but empty. A yellow minivan with the company’s logo sat at the curb.
The white-hot beam of the helicopter’s eye-in-the-sky flicked over buildings and the tops of trees a block away. Will broke from cover and crossed the street to the taxi company. An old-fashioned bell jingled as he entered.
A stocky Latin guy with a billy-goat beard walked out of a back room. Elaborate tattoos peeked out from his sleeves and neckline: barbed wire, the edge of what looked like feathered wings, the tip of a spear. The embroidered name tag on his company polo shirt read NANDO.
“That’s a sound you don’t forget,” said Nando. “You don’t want to be tracked by one o’ those bogeys.”
Will unglued himself from the wall and stepped to the counter, smiling harmlessly, trying to channel his best inner chess club nerd.
“Boy. Yeah. Really,” said Will. “What’s up with that? Hi.”
Nando looked him up and down. “How’s it goin’?”
“Good, good. So, uh, how much is it for a ride to the airport?”
“LAX is forty dollars; Santa Barbara, twenty. Which one you need?”
Will held up his phone. “I’m waiting to find out. Would it be okay if we left now and I told you which one on the way?”
“No, man. That’s totally uncool.”
“How come?”
Nando crossed his arms and pointed to either side: “Different directions, dude.”
“But I’ll know before we have to decide which way to turn.”
“If it’s LAX, I just quoted you the four-passenger price. But we’re not supposed to launch that ride without a full cabin.”
“Is anyone else going to LAX?”
“Not right now.”
Nando stood his ground, expressionless and unyielding as an Easter Island rock head. He even looked like one. The sirens were getting louder.
“What’s the one-passenger price?” asked Will.
“You take math? What’s four times forty, bro?”
“I get your point. I could give you sixty-five.” Almost half his entire reserve.
“Wouldn’t hardly pay for the gas, my friend.”
“See, the thing is, I just found out my dad was in a really bad accident, so I got to get a flight out tonight and I’m just waiting for Mom to figure out which airport and call me back.”
Nando paused, skeptical. “So where is he now? Your dad.”
“Intensive care. In San Francisco. That’s where it happened.”
Nando frowned. “Sorry, little dude. That totally sucks.”
A police car—siren howling, lights flashing—zipped by outside. Will pretended to bury his face in his sleeve and hide a tear, turning away from the window. His iPhone rang. He looked at the screen: DAD.
“That your moms?” asked Nando.
“No. Wrong number.” He put the phone in his pocket and kept a hand on it.
“I just work here, a’ight? The boss man’s in Palm Springs tonight.”
“So?”
“So screw company policy, holmes. We gotta get you to an airport.”
Nando grabbed keys from under the counter and led the way to the door. Will followed him outside, scanning the street for pursuers. Nando pressed a key fob and the minivan’s side door slid open. Will hopped in back and sank down in the nearest seat. Nando climbed behind the wheel and fired up the engine.
“What’s your name?” asked Nando.
“Will. Will West.”
“Will. Trying to help your pops while he’s lying there all messed up in some distant city? That’s awesome.”
“Thanks, Nando.”
“I love my pops, too, man. And if I knew he was like shot or stabbed or taken down on some kind of bogus weapons charge, I would do whatever it took, just like you, to be by his side.”
Nando steered away from the curb. As they turned onto the highway leading west out of town, two more patrol cars raced by, sirens wailing.
“Man, what is up with the po-po in our sleepy town tonight? We brought our baby girls up here from Oxnard to get away from junk like this, know what I mean?”
Will noticed a photo of a sturdy young woman holding two chubby babies in a glittered frame on the dash. A jiggly plastic hula dancer and a pair of fuzzy black dice hung from the rear-view mirror, which glowed in the dark.
“Yes, I do,” said Will.
“I got some Chumash in me, from my momma’s side. You know, the Indians? This used to be our hang, so no wonder, right? Love this town, man. It’s paradise. They shot this movie up here, long time ago, ’cause they said it looked like that place, what’s it called … that old group did the song ’bout that biker dude and his old lady.”
“Shangri-la,” said Will.
Nando snapped his fingers. “The Shangri-Las! My boyfriend’s back and there’s gonna be trouble—”
“Hey-na, hey-na—”
“And in the movie, Shangri-la is this mystical valley with this tribe of blissed-out ancient dudes who all look thirty-five. Except you find out they’re all like five hundred ’cause they don’t ever stress or freak out about nothin’.”
“It’s from a book called Lost Horizon,” Will said. “My dad told me about it when we moved here. That’s the name of the movie, too.”
“I gotta check that out. You think it’s on DVD?”
Will’s phone rang. He looked at the incoming number: Dr. Robbins’s cell.
“That your moms?” asked Nando.
“Yes,” said Will, and answered, “I’m here.”
“There’s a flight from Santa Barbara to Denver at eight forty-five,” said Robbins. “That’s the only way I can get you out tonight. Can you make that one?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll have a ticket in your name waiting at the counter.”
“Thank you, really. You have no idea—”
“It gets in at eleven. We’re still working on a red-eye from Denver to Chicago, but I’ll have that by the time you reach the airport. A car and driver will meet you in baggage claim at O’Hare in the morning … and, Will?”
“Yes?”
“The headmaster and I both want to discuss this, in detail, when you arrive.”
“Of course. I’ll see you then.”
“Have a safe trip,” she said.
Robbins ended the call, but before he hung up, Will added, for Nando’s benefit, “Love you, Mom. Always and forever.”
“Which way we headed?” asked Nando.
“Santa Barbara. Eight-forty-five flight.”
“Got you covered, bro. And don’t worry about your old man, okay? He’s gonna pull through fast once he knows you’re there for him.”
Will leaned back and took some deep breaths. He was starved, shaking with exhaustion and stress. As they drove out of town, he watched the lights of Ojai fade behind them, wondering if he’d ever see them again.
What would the Mystic 8 Ball say about that? Outlook not so good.
A ping from his iPhone: a new voice mail. Will plugged in his earbuds and hit PLAY. Dad’s voice. Low and controlled.
“We’re really worried about you, son. It’s not like you to run off like this. But I want you to know we’re not upset with you. If it has to do with this new school, we would never force you to do something like that. Your uncle Bill went away to school and he had a great experience, but it has to be up to you. Just let us know you’re okay. That’s the only thing that matters. Before you do anything, or go anywhere, please talk to us first.”