«
«I'm listening,» Ivan said. He was so patient with John.
«It's like I get to be the first one there — in the future. I get to be first. A pioneer.»
«That's what you want to be — a pioneer?»
«Yes.»
Ivan paused and then, with some consideration, asked, «John-O, have you checked your tire pressure?»
«Nah.»
Ivan got out of the car, got a pressure gauge from the attendant, and came back and checked the pressure. «You've got to do the little things, too, John. It all counts, big and small.»
Chapter Fifteen
John finished dinner with Ivan and Nylla, then went down to the guesthouse. Doris, having declined dinner with crack baby MacKenzie, was asleep. For the first time since his return from his botched walkout he didn't feel cold dark steel down his spine. He thought back to the women he'd been with briefly during that walkout, then he thought of Susan. Turning the front door knob, it came to him that maybe
He phoned and got her answering machine again. He hung up. He felt sixteen.
When Susan didn't respond within an hour, John found his heart racing, his concentration shot. By midnight he was as buggy as he'd ever been on drugs, but without the distractions. He decided to forward his phone messages to his cell phone, then go rent tapes starring Susan. He wanted to see if the lonely look in her eye had always been there or if it was something new. He also just wanted to see her face.
He drove Ivan's Chrysler sedan down into West Hollywood. Ivan and Nylla preferred the sedan because of its anonymity. It didn't look like a rental car, and it didn't look, as Doris had said, «ethnic or frightened middle class.»
Traffic was tolerable; the night's darkness still felt clean. He found a rental place, West Side Video. On entering he saw it was the kind of shop where the manager asserts personality by laser-printing signs highlightingEVIL MOTHERS ,CUTE & DUMB , and arcane subcategories likeGORE FESTS andLEMONS , where John was genuinely amused to see his old turkeys,
He realized he had no idea what movies Susan had been in. He asked the clerk, name-taggedRYAN , if he had anything starring Susan Colgate, and the clerk squeaked with pleasure. «Meese
«She's something, isn't she?» Ryan asked.
«You did this?» John asked, looking at Ryan, a Gap clone — khakis, white T-shirt with flannel shirt on top. A pleasant Brady Bunch face. Like a gag writer at Fox.
«With tender loving care.»
«I'll give you a hundred bucks for it, right now.»
Ryan was taken aback. «Mr. Johnson — I'm sorry, but I can't pretend I don't know who you are — this is
«Five hundred, but throw in the movies.»
«Mr.
«Nine hundred. Half of what I've got. It's my last money. Everybody knows I'm broke. Even with
«Don't tell me this! Too much information, Mr. Johnson!»
«John.»
«Too much information, John.» Ryan put his hands on his hips and watched as John scanned the titles on the boxes' spines. The store was empty. They could speak loudly. «
«Welcome to detox. Ask away.»
«Are you, how shall I say, in
«What?» John was shocked, not by Ryan's forthrightness, but by the same sort of
«Go no further. It's okay. I work for the forces of good. And it doesn't surprise me, you know.»
«What doesn't? I never said I was in love.»
«Psh. You're like the old RKO Radio tower shooting out bolts of Susan.»
«You're a ballsy little shit.»
«Now, now.» Ryan could see John didn't mind. In fact, quite the opposite. «I mean, both of you have done disappearing acts. Her after the plane crash three years ago, and you earlier this year.»
John wasn't going to fight it. «Go on. What's your point?»
Ryan rubbed his chin and became professorial. «Well, this would have to be a
«Bingo, Dr. Einstein.»
«When did you meet?»
«Today. At lunch. At the Ivy.»
Ryan whistled, then relaxed his posture. «Tell you what, John. Rent all the videos and I'll report them as lost or stolen.»
«Yeah?»
«Yeah. And don't waste your last money. I'll throw in the altar, but there's a catch.»
«It wouldn't be life on earth if there weren't a catch. «
«You have to answer a series of skill-testing questions after reading a script I wrote.»
«Fair enough. Deal.»
«Good. I'll lock up and we can scan these tapes out of the system and load this stuff into your car.»
The two men carried the shrine by its ends over to the counter, where Ryan began to laser-scan the tapes' bar codes. John gave Ryan the address of the guesthouse, as well as his phone number. «Give these out to anybody and you're mulch. And let me ask
