“You said to tell you everything.”
“Everything about Aimee.”
“Okay, okay. So Willie parked her in the Oki-Burger and I picked her up.” He grinned at me, one male to another.
“You picked her up.”
“Well, she needed somebody. She didn't know enough not to cross on the red.”
“What did she tell you?”
“A whole bunch of shit at first, about how rich her father was and what a porker he was. Told me her name was Dorothy Gale. Well, come on, you know? I've seen
“When you were home,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said, glad to get past it. “Christmas TV dinner. Eat your crappy turkey and watch little Judy sing her heart out. What a dope. All she wanted to do was get away from home, and then all she wanted to do was get back. The only thing I liked-you know? — is when she opens the door of the house and it all turns to color. That's it.”
“Merry Christmas,” Jessica said.
“And a Happy Easter to you, too, sweetie,” Donnie said. “I like the monkeys too. So anyways, Aimee didn't know anything. I had to show her which way was west.”
“And you taught her how to hook,” I said.
“Oh, skip it. What do you think she's going to do, be a chemist? She didn't want to, at first. Thought she was going to be a movie star. So I bought her a couple of burgers and then, the third time, I told her that it was on her. Well, she didn't have any money. Tough, I said. How do you think I get it? So I put her on the curb and took her wrist and stuck her thumb out, and a car stopped just like that. The guy wanted us both, so that made it easier for her. She had company, right?”
“Right,” I said. “Company.” Jessica shifted uneasily on her blanket but didn't say anything.
“So after that we were tight. Asshole only gave us twenty each. She cried for half an hour before I got her calmed down. Still, she never wanted to do it. Only when we didn't have anything, not a nickel. You can't even buy gum with a nickel.” He took a drag from his cigarette.
“This is how long after she arrived?” I asked.
“Week, maybe ten days. But it was obvious that she wasn't sitting on no golden ass. Acted like she invented her tail and it was a military secret from the rest of the world. Nobody could buy a piece of it unless she was actually starving. And she could never learn to get the money first.”
“That's important,” I said.
“Bet your buns. Half the time some citizen in a Mercedes will pull in behind some supermarket or somewhere and let you do your job on him, and then when it's time to pay he pushes you out of the car and drives off, and there you are, on your ass on the asphalt. She had this problem asking for money. Very genteel chick. So after a while I gave up and taught her how to live in the mall.”
“The mall?” I wasn't sure I'd heard him right.
“You know, the Centrum, over on Beverly.”
“I know it.”
“Well, it's perfect.” He stubbed out his cigarette on the floor and looked at Jessica. “How about you give me one of the hundreds now?” he asked. “Since we been speaking of money, I mean.”
“Give it to him,” I said. She did, and he folded it into one-sixteenth squares and tucked it into his black leather rock-star jeans.
“The mall,” he continued. “You know, it's heated and it's dry. And you move around from one store to another, hoping nobody looks at you too long. When they do, you move on. When it's time for everything to close, you roll under one of the rest benches and hope no guard finds you. If one does, you hope you can blow him and he'll leave you alone.”
“And you usually can?”
“Sure. I mean, what are they? Bunch of rent-a-cops. For them, a blow-job is a passport to paradise.”
“Tell me about the mall,” I said.
“Well, for Queen Aimee it was the only place, what with her figuring her ass cost more per square inch than real estate at Malibu. They've got movies there, right? So that means it's open until midnight or later, and it means that the lower floors are pretty much empty after ten o'clock. So, like I said, you sleep under a bench until a guard finds you, and if you can't blow him you try to get into an elevator.”
“An elevator,” Jessica said.
“Sure. You can jam it between floors. So you bring an umbrella into a mall elevator and push the button for the top floor. Then, halfway between three and four or whatever, Aimee or somebody would shove the point of the umbrella in between the doors. Period. End of ride. The elevator sticks wherever you are, and we all go to sleep. Nice, clean, heated. Sometimes we'd spray something on the walls to make it ours.”
“And this is what Aimee did?” I asked.
“Until she got her cop,” he said.
I felt something that was doing a good imitation of fear roll over me. “Her cop?”
“Not a real cop, dummy. A rent-a-cop. Worked at the mall, at Robinson's. Little skinny guy with about as much life in him as a ham sandwich, but he was real horny. Guy would have fucked the crack of dawn if he could've reached it in time. Little guys are like that, you know?”
“Did he have a name?” I asked.
Donnie squinted. “Warner. Looked like a rope with clothes on. Like I said, though, horny.”
“So Aimee met him,” I prompted.
“Yeah, he wanted to throw us out. He found her and me under the bench outside Robinson's, I mean we figured we had it made for the night. Movies were out and everything. Usually, if you can stay put until the movies are out, no problem. We'd even started to cuddle. Her and me loved to cuddle.” He put up a hand. “Hey, you know,” he said, “I'm no fag. I go with guys because it's usually guys who want me, but I loved Aimee. She was even more than family. I mean, even when she wouldn't trick, I helped her out.”
“I'm sure you did,” I said as gently as possible.
“Well, let's just keep things straight,” he said with a little of his old bravado. “I ain't no faggot.”
“Anyway,” I said, “Warner didn't want you. He wanted her.”
“Warner
“You know Warner's last name?”
“That is his last name. He's the kind of guy always gets called by their last name. Probably his mother called him Warner. His first name,” Donnie said, anticipating my question, “is Wayne. Wayne Warner. Is that lame or what?”
“Is he still working at Robinson's?”
”Naw.” Donnie loosed a short, ugly laugh. “He got canned.”
“Why?”
“Because of Aimee.”
“What happened?”
“I'm getting to it. So that night, he wants to throw us out, but Aimee does him instead. She didn't want to, but she did. Right in the middle of Robinson's, in the Spanish Mediterranean living room. Big asshole couch with wooden feet. Real nice room. Better than the Sleep-Eze motel. That's where we stayed when we had the bread. They don't hassle you, or at least not much. Lot of coke dealers too. You know, they move in for a couple of nights, set up shop, and then move to another motel. Not the best neighbors, though.”
“Why not?” That was Jessica.
“They got guns, and once in a while they like to shoot them off. They got to shoot something off. Most of the time, they can't get it up.”
Jessica sniffed in an offended fashion, defending Blister.
“All that blow,” he continued, heedless. ‘Takes the life out of the old snake.”
“Warner,” I said.
