The anxiety medicine I’d seen in her bathroom was on my mind too. I didn’t hold that against her. Rufus had shit like Videx, Ziagen, Viramune, and Crixivan in his cabinets. I’d seen them. Looked them up on the Internet. That medicine cost a grip and a half. Only the rich could afford to stay alive. In this country a man with no insurance died a slow and horrible death.
I asked Panther, “You crying?”
“Only two kinds of people in L.A. People who were born here and people who came here to be stars. The first kind doesn’t know how to leave. The second kind leaves with their tails between their legs. It might take them a while to give up, but they leave.”
I said, “I’m the first kind. L.A. is all I know.”
“And I’m the second. L.A. ain’t all that. You should leave this bitch.”
“I know. She ain’t much, but she’s my bitch.”
“Ever tried to leave?”
“Tried once. When I was married. Was gonna go live in Alabama.”
“What happened?”
“Long story. Came right back as soon as I got out of jail.”
She paused. “Just be careful, okay?”
“Panther—”
“Had two dreams about you. In the first dream, we were making love. I mean we were all in it. It was incredible. Not fast. Nobody was in a hurry. Was so sad when I woke up. It was the bomb. Was moaning in my sleep. In the second dream, we were talking. About us. Conversation going in a promising direction. You told me that you knew that I loved you.”
Silence.
“I love you, Driver.”
She hung up.
I sat there, leg bouncing, holding that phone, staring at nothing, and thinking. I grabbed the newspaper, found the crossword puzzle. “Paradise Lost character.” Four letters. ADAM. “Sleazy speak-easy.” Four letters. DIVE. I focused, did most of it. That helped me calm down.
I grabbed the backpack Panther had left behind, took it with me, its weight telling me that she’d picked up more than I needed. To be honest, I didn’t know what I needed, but I had it.
I passed by a trash can and paused. Thought about tossing the hardware.
I’d been to jail, I’d done shady shit all my life, and I wasn’t trying to do that shit no more.
That black-and-white image of Burt Lancaster flashed in my head. That scene in The Killers played in my mind, frame by frame. How he lay in that bed and waited for those men to come gun him down. He didn’t do a damn thing. Just waited.
I gripped the backpack and moved on.
13
Within twenty minutes I was by my crib, hunting for a parking space. Traffic on La Cienega was brutal, like a drag strip, fools whipping from lane to lane, doing at least seventy in a residential zone. There wasn’t a parking space so I took to the alley, left my car there. Was only gonna be here a hot minute.
I was halfway up the stairs before I knew something wasn’t right. If I had any kind of Spider sense it was sounding like a fire alarm. I made another step before I stopped. My door was partway open. I dug in the backpack. Pulled out the first gun my hand touched, a .357.
It was dark. Cold.
Listened.
Heartbeat thumping. Could barely hear over the drum inside my chest.
Listened.
Heard nothing but my own anger wrestling with fear.
Took a few breaths.
Smelled.
That scent was strong, familiar. From days gone by. I knew what it was but it was hard to place at the same time. Used to smell it all over the house when we were growing up, that odor that let us know the house had been disinfected, sanitized, and deodorized.
Bleach.
I’d never forget that stench. Momma used to steal that industrial bleach from the second-rate motels she cleaned up, bring it home and wash our white clothes in the bathtub from time to time, and when she did the house held the stench of bleach all night. We’d sleep with the windows open to keep our eyes from burning. I smelled bleach and I imagined Momma in the bathroom, on her knees, washing Reverend Daddy’s shirts and scrubbing the sheets in the tub.
It was strong, those fumes thickening and poisoning the night air.
Bleach irritated my eyes the second I used my foot to bump my door wider.
Darker in my place than it was outside. Quiet as death on Sunday morning.
Somebody had broken into my apartment. Didn’t know if they were still here.