Harlan's Race

by the pile-up. We parked there a while, then drove on across the Central Valley. In our mind’s eye, we could see the two women among the snow geese, with their hair shining in the sun. Marla’s spirit had joined the great migration.
    “Jeez,” Chino finally said, “it’s like we’re jinxed.”
    “And you know what? In the middle of all that, Betsy remembered to send me Falcon’s picture.”
    “Yeah,” said Chino. “She won’t forget her familia. We’ll find her.”
    The thought of Marla’s crumpled bloody body made me think of Vince, and the Memorial threat. I’d have to move heaven and earth to keep him from being hurt.
    On the 31st, just as the sun came up blood-red into the smog, we raced into the Los Angeles Basin. I could feel Chino starting to put a little distance between us, and I did the same. At a boarding kennel we dropped Jess off for a few days. I hated to do this to my dog, but Paxil and Darryl had a cat.
    “Are you going to see Vince right away?” Chino asked
    me.
    “If he’s home. Valhalla isn’t working today.”
    I felt off-balance, thinking about Betsy’s loss, armoring myself against old feelings about Vince, quivering with new feelings for Chino.
    At Paul’s and Darryl’s house, the Land Rover was parked on the street where Chino left it. Breakfast and hugs welcomed us. Famished, we ate with them. California food — waffles heaped with sun-ripened fruit, toast spread with avocado from their patio tree. Over the plates, Paul and Darryl raised the question of security with me around. On my suggestion, they hired Chino on the spot — as studio security chief. The deal included a room at their house.
    After breakfast, Chino stretched and said he was dying to work out. I hadn’t called Vince yet, and finally decided to just go over.
    Outside, a wind was kicking up, and Chino’s ponytail blew as he faced me on the sidewalk and took me by the lapels. Emotion roiled — I felt such a deep thing for him, and knew I had to kick past it.
    “Things are looking up for you,” I said.
    ‘Yeah ... thanks to you.”
    ‘You going to be okay?”
    He gave me a slow, ceremonious Latin kiss on the cheek. In West Hollywood, we could stand there on the street and do this. It felt like a kind of good-bye.
    “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’m going to have my time. Go take care of our kid.”
    Chino jumped in his Land Rover, and headed off to the Athletic Club, leaving me standing there on the empty street.
    Vince’s half-wild little patio was overgrown with bougainvillea and palmetto.
    Stopping there for a moment, I felt the blood pounding in my temples. Partly it was the idea of confronting him. Partly it was knowing that LEV. had targeted him right here in West Hollywood. All around me, that winter wind buffeted the trees — the santa ana wind that I’d heard about all my life. My skin felt shuddery and sensitive, as if I were an Atlantic dolphin tossed into strange Pacific waters. For better or worse, this vast city was my new home, the place where we’d make our stand. Everything was alien
    — crowded Spanish-style houses, palm fronds clashing together. A few winter roses (such a shocking surprise for a Yankee) bloomed in the patio.
    Vince was home, and buzzed me through the security gate.
    The apartment was a sunny, one-room bachelor digs, living space and office combined, with a tiny kitchenette and bathroom to the side. The bed rolled away into a sofa. His dresser looked like an altar — a candle burning, and a little bronze statue of Mercury hung with rosaries. On the wall was a Night and Fog poster. The room smelled of warm beeswax, of flowers in the sun.
    Vince was standing by his desk, flipping through a script. He was barefoot, wearing snug white slacks and pullover. As he turned, his eyes met mine with a new anxiety.
    “Funny ... just before you came, I was thinking about you,” he said, trying to keep his voice even.
    “Juju,” I said.
    He didn’t invite me to sit, so I leaned against the wall. I felt like I was seeing him for the first time.
    He looked and felt so different. Vanity, arrogance and selfishness were fading. These days, he didn’t care how beautiful his eyes were. The young wolf was older, with the knowings of leg-hold traps and the murderous ways of men. If ever he was a male who carried within him a world of hidden magic and power, it was now. Billy had shown me love can exist between two men. Vince had been showing me — the hard