jockey.'
'You thought that up, Elwood?'
'Yeah. I don't think anyone else is doing it. And we did that for a while all over, conventions, stag parties, that kind of thing. But there's so much competition in the market especially with video, you know? Videocassettes, home movies on video, and half the broads in LA willing to take their clothes off for nothing anyway. So we did a little hooking.'
'You and Angela.'
'Yeah, of course, who else we talking about? I put it together, she did the johns. We did pretty good till she got busted. She wouldn'ta got busted either, she wasn't drunk. I told her look out for the Vice Guys undercover. I could spot one two blocks away. But she's so drunk she drifted away from me one day and props one. By the time I get there she's in cuffs and yelling at the cop. I told her fifty times, you get busted, shut up, go downtown. Sit in the tank an hour. And I'll bail you out. But she's in the damned wrapper and she's yelling at the cops and I try to get her quieted down and the damned cops up and bust my ass. Put the arm on me. Sheriff's deputies. Those guys are the worst. City guys you can talk to, but the county guys, man-oh-man.' Woody shook his head. He looked at the clock above the second-floor balcony where the aerobic machines stood row upon cardiovascular row, ringing the exercise floor below. It was 5:05.
'I need a drink. You want a drink, man?'
'Sure,' I said. 'Replenish those electrolytes.'
We went to the first floor and across the lobby and to the bar at the far end. The bartender was a neat, compact black man with a black and gold paisley vest over a white shirt.
He said, ''Shappening, Woody?'
Woody said, 'Hey, Jack. Gimme an Absolut on the rocks with a twist.'
I ordered a beer. Now that he had given in, Woody seemed to be caught up in his own story and was pitching it to me.
'They held her overnight and took her out to Pomona in the morning. I tried to get her out, but they told me she didn't want to get out and…'
He spread his hands.
'I never saw her again. Too bad. I miss her, nice babe. Excellent look, you know.'
He sipped his vodka.
'Oh-baby-oh-baby,' he said. 'The first one hits the spot, doesn't it, Spense?'
'Oh-baby,' I said. 'Why'd you run away?'
'Run away?'
'Yeah, during your senior year at Haverhill High? Why'd you and Angela run away?'
'Haverhill was a drag, you know. I was looking for some action.'
'How about Angela?'
'Trouble at home,' Woody said.
'You know where her parents are?'
'No.'
'Brothers, sisters, cousins?'
'No.'
'Know anybody named Vaughn?'
'I know a lot of people. First name or last?'
'I don't know.'
'Don't mean shit to me,' he said. 'Singer named Jimmie Vaughn, Stevie Ray's brother…'
I nodded.
'Not him,' I said. 'Got any idea where she might have gone, or why?'
'Angela and I traveled together, Duke, a little grass, a little wine, maybe some poontang.'
'What else is there?' I said.
Woody shrugged.
'Give her credit, though, she helped me get rolling out here.'
He swallowed the rest of his vodka.
'And, let me tell you, Spense, I'm rollin' on the river out here now, rolling on the river.'
I put out my hand. Woody took it. My hand was much bigger than his. I squeezed it. Woody tried not to show it, but I knew he was uncomfortable.
'I'm going now,' I said. 'I hope I don't have to talk with you again…'
I tightened my grip a little more, Woody tried to pull his hand away and couldn't.
'But if I do,' I said, 'and you call me Spense again, I will kick your ass around Westwood like a beach ball. Capeesh?'
