Forget to Remember

tomorrow night. Don’t worry about me. I’m gay. I’ll protect you from the others.”
    He pressed a card into her hand and disappeared back into the bar. Carol closed her hand over the card so the guys wouldn’t see it.
    “What was that all about?” Rigo looked anxious.
    “Nothing. He was just congratulating me for beating him.”

    CHAPTER 16
    Jake Beard was Broken Nose’s real name. At least that’s what his card said. Underneath his name it said “Actor.” A phone number was included, but no address. Curious.
    After Rigo left for the restaurant on Tuesday, Carol went to Facebook on his computer to see if he was a member. He was, and he apparently didn’t block access to anyone. His picture showed him wearing a football uniform. His profile information said he was single and his birthday was April 14. It didn’t give a year. He lived in Los Angeles and had several hundred friends.
    There were photos of him with his buddies, most of whom looked like the men he had been with last night, possibly ex-football players. There were no pictures of women. The quotes of his friends on the News Feed were bawdy. Beard’s recent quote was, “Looking for love in all the wrong places.”
    Carol Googled “Jake Beard.” She found out he had played for the Los Angeles Rams in the early nineties. They had left L.A. after the 1994 season. So he was a football player.
    Carol and Rigo had spent much of the day searching for her on the Internet. Or for Aiko Murakawa. Was she Aiko? Had she ever been that pretty? Rigo thought so. She wasn’t sure. Anyway, they had no luck. She felt frustrated. Maybe she would never find out who she was.
    Meanwhile, Ernie and Tina were paying her way. Rigo and Frances were spending a lot of time on her behalf, in addition to money. How could she pay them back? She didn’t want to spend the $5,000 in her bank account. She would need that when she went to England. She wasn’t sure what she’d do when she got there, but she wasn’t getting any results here.
    Rigo and Adam had each given her twenty dollars from their winnings last night. She had protested but they insisted, saying she had earned the money. They still pocketed enough to give them a tidy profit, even after paying for the beer. She felt good she’d been able to pay her own way. She needed to do more of that.
    Carol called Beard’s number on her cell phone and got a message: “Hey, it’s Jake. You know what to do.”
    She listened for the beep. “Hi, it’s Carol from last night.” She gave her cell phone number.
    Ten minutes later her cell phone rang. “Hello.”
    “I got us set up for tonight. Where should I pick you up?”
    She recognized his gravelly voice. “When?”
    “ASAP.”
    “What are we going to do?”
    “Make a call on a billionaire who likes to gamble.”
    “Is it safe?”
    “Candy from a baby. Dress sharp. He likes young chicks.”
    “But—”
    “He can look at them, but he can’t do anything about it. He’s in a wheelchair.”
    She had a million more questions, but she realized she wasn’t going to get them answered. Either she committed or she hung up. She thought fast. “Meet me at…Pacific Coast Highway and Hawthorne in…an hour.”
    “Parking lot by the bank, northeast corner. Make it forty-five minutes.”
    “I’ll try.”
    He disconnected. He obviously knew the area. What should she wear? With her less than extensive wardrobe, options were limited. She went with a short skirt, light blue sweater, and a jacket to ward off the cool L.A. evening. Bare legs. Pantyhose had been out for a number of years. Thank God. She put on her “dress” shoes—they had two-inch heels—and then decided to wear her athletic shoes and carry the good ones.
    She put on lipstick and fluffed her hair. The bald spots were barely visible and wouldn’t be noticed by a man in a wheelchair. She dropped the cell phone in her small purse and went downstairs. In the kitchen she found a plastic bag in which to carry her dress shoes.
    She tore off a sheet from the pad beside the phone and wrote, “Going out this evening. Home late. Carol.” She almost added, “Don’t worry about me,” but then realized that was exactly what Tina and Ernie would do if they saw that message.
    ***
    Carol got off the bus at PCH, having ridden it down the hill on Hawthorne. She hadn’t had the exact change. Even wasting less than a dollar galled her. She’d be glad when she didn’t have to worry about every penny. She was