except to get Jewel out of the motel.
I got to the Valley and drove down Ventura Boulevard. I reached a block lined with low-rent motels. The one where Jewel said she was staying was lit by a blinking neon sign that cast a scary shade of lurid green over the place. I felt like I was in a horror movie. I parked in front of her room and blinked my headlights on and off. I figured Jewel would be waiting and would run right out. But she didn’t.
I got fidgety and was about to get out of the car and knock on her door when a car pulled up next to mine. It was a long-ass maroon sedan. This had to be Jewel’s pimp. My heart started racing. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to look over to see who was behind the wheel, but instead I stared straight ahead. I’d find out soon enough.
Whoever was driving the other car turned off the engine. The driver’s-side door opened. Then the passenger side. I held my breath. I heard a loud laugh—but it was a woman’s laugh. Carefully, I looked up. Right in front of my car stood a tall white woman accompanied by a short white man twice her age. She looked right at me, a big smile on her face. He looked straight ahead. The two of them then strolled a few feet until they reached the room they had reserved. Then they disappeared inside. I thanked God.
Just about then, Jewel opened her door. She waved to me, and I waved back. She went back inside to get her suitcase. I ran out and carried it to the car, still convinced that some motherfucker would come roaring up with a sawed-off shotgun. She told me to hurry because her pimp had only run out to get something to eat and he’d be back any second.
As soon as Jewel was safely in the car, I peeled off like a bank robber. We sailed down Ventura Boulevard, free as birds. For a long while neither of us spoke. Jewel wanted to know where we were going. I wasn’t sure. I was still a bundle of nerves. I mean, I didn’t even know this girl. I kept driving. She kept thanking me. I kept thinking where I could take her.
I couldn’t take her to a friend’s house. What would the parents say? No, there was only one place that made any sense—even though it made no sense at all. I had to take her home.
She wanted to know what my parents would say. I said they couldn’t know. I’d have to hide her in my room. She had no objections. She was happy because she had escaped from hell.
When we finally drove up to the house, I stopped the car some yards away and turned off the engine. Jewel and I then pushed the Buick into the driveway. We then tiptoed around to the side door that led to my bedroom. Things were even more complicated because, at the time, my cousin Esau’s daughter, Jennifer, was living in our guest bedroom while attending college in L.A. Three people to not wake.
Once inside my room, I showed her how my bed sat high off the floor. I said there was enough space underneath for a couple of bedspreads and a pillow. She could sleep there. She looked at me funny. Why couldn’t she sleep with me?
I said she was beautiful, but this couldn’t be about sex. It was about keeping her safe. I had to be the one person she could rely on, the one person she could trust. She had to know that I had no ulterior motive.
It was hard to read her reaction. She looked a little disappointed, but maybe she was just confused. She wasn’t used to being treated right.
While she went to my bathroom to change, I slipped into bed. I set my alarm for early enough to get Jewel out of the house before my folks woke up. Exhausted, I fell right to sleep.
Next morning, things went as planned. I showed Jewel how to go out the side door of my bathroom and climb over the fence. She went her way while I went to school. We met back at the house in the afternoon before my folks got back home. I made sure she had enough to eat.
The situation was crazy, but it worked for a whole month. During the day, Jewel would hang out