time for romance. Not for me. I grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the window, stared out at a fatherless community that had been destroyed by riots and social neglect.
Panther didn’t complain, just grabbed Freeman’s book, turned on a light, started reading.
My eyes went to the tube.
Sammy Davis, Jr., was the poor hustling garbage collector. He was standing on a table singing that someday he’d have a chauffeur and a long black limousine, that someday he’d have a penthouse. The black man just had to be the trash man. The poorest and blackest of the lot. Singing he was gonna come up. Yeah, me too, Sammy. Someday. Some-fucking-day me too.
Lisa was lounging in Hancock Park, sleeping on custom bedding and linens, goose-down pillows, being catered damn near every meal, all the accoutrements of the rich.
Freeman and Sade were living in a similar world, all room service and caviar.
My brother didn’t have two dimes to rub together and still managed a similar lifestyle.
I was hiding out in South Central, inhaling the stench on Fuck Row.
Someday. Some-fucking-day.
Panther turned on her side, then sat up. “Driver, this book is good. Better than the crap I bought. Only on page ten, but it’s like ... like he had some serious writing classes or something.”
“Maybe that’s why he took three years off, to up his game.”
“Think so?”
“Heard actors and actresses do that when their shit ain’t working, take time off, study their craft, come back strong. Three years would be enough time to up your game.”
“Then he upped it. Better than anything I’ve read in the last ten years.”
She went back to reading Freeman’s masterpiece. I needed to clear my mind. I found a crossword puzzle in my bag, found a pen, put on my glasses, let that ease my rugged thoughts.
Across the room, minutes and pages of Dawning had gone by before Panther looked up and saw me watching her, crossword in my hand. She had fallen into Freeman’s world and seeing me jarred her. She read my face, sat up with her legs folded under her, watched me awhile before she asked, “Why you looking like that? What are you thinking, Driver?”
I glanced at Ocean’s Eleven again. Sammy, Dean, Frank, Joey, the whole crew was walking single file, credits rolling. They had won, ripped off Vegas. All of them were strutting out into the sunshine, their names on the giant marquee behind them. Crime had paid. Paid well.
I sent my attention back to Panther.
I swallowed. “How much do you think we could get?”
21
Pedro blew up my cellular less than an hour later. It was close to sunrise. The sexual earthquake that had been over my head had finally slowed down. Panther was on her cellular, the burner between her legs like she was on watch, talking to one of her friends.
Pedro told me, “Got that information for you.”
I fought the heaviness in my eyes. “What you find out?”
Pedro’s sister worked at the Department of Motor Vehicles. I’d memorized the plates on the Expedition the lion and jackal had been in, passed the info on to Pedro yesterday afternoon.
He said, “The vehicle is registered to somebody who stays in L.A. County.”
“Local talent.”
“Looks that way.”
I gave him an update, told him what they had done to Panther’s apartment.
I asked, “You feel like taking me for a drive in that expensive Hyundai? Want to see how this talent lives. Might have a conversation or two and you could help me do some talking.”
“Me and my baseball bat could use some fun, but man I got the kids.”
“Where’s the wife?”
“In jail.”
“Jail? What the fuck did Marissa do?”
“Things got outta hand on the picket line. They locked strikers up, civil disobedience.”
“You serious?”
“I’m proud of Marissa. I really am. The kids understand. They’re proud too.”
“Tell Marissa I said the same. Proud of her. But I gotta handle my situation over here.”
He gave me the address. Had to hold my anger at bay. Wanted to go out and hunt them down, but now wasn’t the time. Didn’t want Panther involved any more than she already was.
But she was getting up, putting on her damp clothes. She’d bur glarized her way into my conversation with Pedro. She picked up her gun, put it in her bag. Grabbed her shoes.
My cellular beeped. Arizona’s number came up on caller-ID.
I let Pedro go, clicked over. Arizona came on the line and told me the pickpocket was gone for the night, her needs sent her out on a booty call. She invited me