Sharp.”
CHAPTER 18
Tony upshifted smoothly as he merged onto the 105 Freeway eastbound from the 405 northbound. The 105 was a godsend to the commuter who lived near the coast and commuted inland-or vice versa. It was the newest of the L.A. freeways, and Tony drove it constantly for his work. Only infrequently did he think about the hundreds of people who had once lived along here and had been displaced during its protracted period of construction.
He glanced at Shahla, sacked out on the seat beside him. She had fallen asleep almost as soon as he had backed out of her driveway. So much for companionship. Remembering his own days as a teenager, he knew that they often didn’t get enough sleep. But he couldn’t play his radio or his CDs, which he would have been doing if he had been alone. Maybe she was more trouble than she was worth.
She was wearing her hair down, not in a ponytail. Her jeans were cut higher than usual on her hips and her top lower, closing the gap. The changes made her look older, and Tony knew enough about women to realize that this was a calculated look, to impress Paul. He admitted to himself that the more mature Shahla was more appealing. But he must not get carried away. She was still only seventeen.
“Where are we?”
Shahla’s sleepy voice jolted Tony out of his reverie. The Porsche had been humming along on Interstate 15, and he had been humming under his breath, in perfect synch with it. How much better than the stop-and-go driving in town. He was only going a few miles-per-hour over the speed limit. Speed wasn’t the issue. It was-freedom. Besides, he felt responsible for Shahla’s safety, especially after talking to Rasa. He felt very protective of her. Almost like a father. Almost. He would have been going faster if she weren’t with him.
“We’re approaching Barstow.”
“I’ve never been to Barstow.”
“Neither has anybody else who doesn’t drive to Las Vegas from L.A. It’s not exactly the garden spot of California.”
“I’m hungry.”
“We’re making good time. We’ll stop and grab a bite to eat. How did you sleep?”
She gave him a smile. “I had a good sleep. This is closer to the time I usually get up on Saturday.”
Tony downshifted as he cruised along an off-ramp. The desert community had plenty of fast-food restaurants and gas stations. It was designed for the traveler passing through. But, surprisingly, quite a few people lived here, also. It was a bustling place. What did the residents do? Besides cater to tourists. He pulled into the parking lot of the first restaurant they came to, in a space with campers on either side.
“It’s hot,” Shahla announced after getting out of the car.
“No cooling ocean breezes in the desert, like we get at the beach.”
However, the air-conditioning was cranking away inside. They found a booth amid the weekend visitors, with their hats and loud shirts. A waitress, who had been waitressing for a long time and would continue more or less forever, took their orders. Shahla ordered orange juice and an English muffin. Tony ordered coffee and thought the muffin sounded good, so he also asked for one.
After a couple of sips of coffee, Tony said, “We need a plan for dealing with Paul. We should get there before he does, which is good.”
“I thought we’d sit at separate tables, and I’d talk to him while you keep an eye on us.”
“No way. I don’t want to be separated from you. And I need to hear everything he says.”
“You’ll scare him.”
“No I won’t. I’ll be your…brother. Don’t you think we could pass as brother and sister?”
“In a dim light, maybe. But let me do the talking.”
Tony chuckled. “You’re really a control freak, aren’t you?”
“I’m just trying to protect you, Tony. You don’t know poetry. You might say the wrong thing.”
“I thought I was supposed to protect you. That’s what your mom wants. And speaking of, you must really have her buffaloed to convince her to let you run off to Vegas with a character like me.”
“Quit running yourself down. And she exaggerates. I’m a good daughter. Especially compared to some of the others. One of the girls at school won’t live at home. She lives with a friend and communicates with her mom mostly by e-mail.”
“Whew. No wonder I’m not married.”
“You’ll make a good father.”
“That’ll be the day.”
They made a nonstop run from Barstow to Las Vegas. Shahla, now fully awake, became quite talkative, commenting on the desert scenery, talking about her plans for college and life. She was in the process of filling out applications to universities. Tony reflected that she was doing a lot more planning than he had done at her age- maybe than he did now.
“Have you written a lot of poetry?” Tony asked her at one point.
“I started writing poetry when I was eight or nine. Mom sent me to my room for a time out, and I didn’t have anything better to do so I wrote a couple of bad poems. I’ve been writing poetry ever since. I’ve had some published in the school paper and a few other places. I’ve also written articles for the paper.”
“You’re so busy. When do you find time to write?”
“Oh, when I’m sad. Or depressed. Or happy. I can write pretty much any time. I have a notebook full of poems.”
They parked in a lot in downtown Las Vegas, near Fremont Street, and walked several blocks to the Tortoise Club. It was a typical downtown casino-loud and flashy, but without much substance beneath the facade, as Tony knew from experience. A good way to lose your money in the slots or at the blackjack tables slowly, with minimum bets, without the distraction of shows. Perfect for the businesslike gambler who didn’t have a large stake. And the small gamblers were out in force today-the retirees who came on buses and lost their Social Security checks before returning home to their empty lives.
Tony steered Shahla into the coffee shop, away from temptation, a half hour before their appointment, and they sat down at a table, both of them on the same side, facing the door. A quick glance at the other tables convinced them that Paul had not preceded them here. Tony suggested they order lunch.
“Can we drive by some of the big hotels on the way back?” Shahla asked between sips of a soft drink.
Tony didn’t know whether her excitement was at the prospect of meeting Paul or from the effect Las Vegas had on people. It was probably a combination. He had avoided Las Vegas Boulevard on the way in because traffic on it was so miserable-worse than in many parts of Los Angeles.
“Why not? We’ll give you a look at plastic city. They’ve recreated some of the great places in the world here- Paris, Venice, New York, Egypt. You just have to remember that it’s all fake.”
“Don’t be so cynical. This is all new to me.”
Paul didn’t appear at 1:30, the scheduled time. Tony wondered whether he was going to show up. They finished their lunches and continued to nurse their drinks.
“How much time should we give him?” Shahla asked. She sounded restless, as if she would rather be sightseeing than playing detective.
“We’ve driven all this way. Let’s give him until two.”
At five minutes of two a tall young man walked into the coffee shop, or rather eased his way in. Considering his dominating height, he looked a little timid, as though he wasn’t sure how the world would treat him. Skinny as a broomstick, he wore thick-lensed glasses and had sandy hair that stuck out at odd angles. He had on a T-shirt with
