The Chick Is In The Mail

Out on the beach and among the dunes, roadgrrls wandered about, drinking beer and passing joints and talking, or lay stretched out on blankets in the sun. Here, on their own staked-out turf, several of them had felt secure enough to shed their silly plastic protective gear in favor of cutoff shorts and T-shirts, or bikinis-with or without tops-or, in a couple of cases, nothing at all.

Believe it or not, though, that wasn't what got my attention.

Nearby, a grrl stood leaning against the half-demolished metal guardrail that separated the parking lot from the beach. Her back was to me and I couldn't see her face, but everything else set off recognition signals: long blond hair, purple-and-black armor-

Maybe this was going to be easier than I'd expected.

I shut off the engine and said, 'Excuse me,' and she turned to face me and so much for that. Nose too big, mouth too wide, eyebrows too heavy; not even close.

I said, 'Sorry, my mistake. I was looking for Rhonda Honda.'

'Nah, man.' Flat drawn-out a's, Boston girl a long way from home. 'My name's Vonda. That's Rhonda Honda ovah yondah.'

I started to ask her to say that again. Then I was afraid she would. Shaking my own head, feeling a desire to hit it sharply a couple of times, I looked where Vonda was pointing.

And sure enough, there she was, the grrl from the picture. I wondered why I hadn't spotted her before. She stood out like a racing greyhound in a pack of mutts, and not just because she was a good six inches taller than the rest. Easily half of the other roadgrrls on the beach had that same leggy-blonde look, but it was as if somebody had been practicing and then finally got it right.

She was walking along between a couple of other Dolls, a redhead and another blonde, and swigging a can of beer. I watched her for a moment, trying to decide on my next move. Truthfully, I hadn't thought things out beyond this point.

As it turned out she was the one who saved me from overloading my brain any further. Suddenly she glanced my way and her face broke into a blinding smile. 'Oh, hey,' she cried, 'check it out!' And came running across the sand toward me, shoulder guards clacking, while the others turned to stare.

It wasn't, of course, my smoldering good looks that had pushed her button; her eyes were fixed on the Suzuki. 'Wow,' she breathed as she stopped beside the front wheel, and hunkered down for a better look at the engine. 'It's beautiful-'

The other Dolls were moving in now, bunching up in a semicircle behind her, looking at the bike and then, with considerably less admiration, at me. 'Who's this asshole?' somebody asked, not bothering to lower her voice.

The one named Vonda said, 'He was askin' about Rhonda.'

It was a nasty moment. I could feel them all tensing, practically crouching to spring. Various sharp shiny implements began to appear, amid a clicking and clattering of flick blades and butterfly handles. My insides felt very loose. For all the superficial fun-in-the-sun look of the scene, this was a bad spot for anybody- particularly male-who didn't belong. These were no Girl Scouts; they weren't into sitting around the campfire singing old songs and roasting wienies-but one wrong step and they'd be roasting mine.

I said to Rhonda, 'Can we go somewhere and talk?'

A big, seriously mean-looking brunette said, 'No way, man. What the fuck you think-'

Rhonda was getting up. 'It's all right, Donna.' She tilted her head toward the nearby road. 'Want to go for a ride? I'd like to see what that thing will do.'

A few minutes later we were roaring off down the old coastal highway, Rhonda in the lead. Right away it was clear she knew what she was doing. She laid the purple-and-black bike over till her knees almost scraped the crumbling concrete, and she blasted out of the turns like a rocket. Keeping up with her took all my concentration; the road had become a very narrow place and the horizon kept tilting at unreasonable angles.

Not that we were going flat-out by any means; like every other public road in the state, this one was too gnarled and potholed for real balls-to-the-wall riding. But we were going damn fast, all the same, engines shrieking like buggered banshees; and then as she led the way into a long blind turn I picked up a change in the note of her exhaust, and her shoulders hunched as if bracing for something. Without pausing to think about it I downshifted fast and rolled off the throttle and clamped down hard on the brakes.

Rhonda's Honda was already sliding to a smoking, fishtailing stop. The Suzuki's greater weight took me on past her and for a sickening moment I thought it was all over, but then the brakes took hold and the big bike stopped dead.

Just beyond the front tire, the pavement ended in a jagged break, clear across the roadway. Thirty or forty feet away, the other half of the earthquake- shattered bridge hung over a deep rocky gorge. I could have spat over the handlebars into the gap.

Rhonda Honda pulled off her helmet and grinned at me. She tossed her head, making that long blonde hair flare and bounce for a moment. 'All right,' she said.

I stared at her, momentarily speechless. Had she just tried to kill me? Or was this merely her idea of a good laugh? Her face gave nothing away; her smile was innocent as an upper-middle-class baby's.

She said, 'So why were you looking for me?'

I returned her grin, trying to look much cooler than I felt. 'There was a guy asking around about you,' I told her. 'Down in the city, a couple weeks ago.'

'And you thought you'd get a reward for finding me?' The smile went away very fast.

'Nah.' I shrugged. 'He didn't say anything about a reward. But he had this picture and, well, you looked cute, okay? I just wanted to meet you.'

It sounded phony as hell to me, and I only tried it because I couldn't think of anything else. But after a second her face cleared and she said, 'Why, that's sweet. I'm flattered.'

She laughed. 'Only I'm afraid you had a long ride for nothing. See, I've got… a girlfriend, you know? Donna. You kind of met her, back there.'

'Oh.' I managed to look disappointed. 'Sorry.'

'That's all right.' She started her engine. 'Come on. I'll ride back with you.'

* * *

I spent the rest of the day skulking about Coyote Bay, trying to figure out what to do now. I still had the number Margo had given me, but I wasn't ready to call in yet. Not until I had some answers, and right now I wasn't even sure what the questions were.

As the setting sun began to turn the ocean red, I wandered over to where a couple of locals had set up an outdoor grill and were serving greasy soyburgers at extortionate prices. I bought one, handing a fifty across the counter and getting a dirty look and a handful of small bills back. I walked away, munching on the burger and counting my change. I wouldn't have been surprised to find I'd been shorted, but it was all there.

I fanned the bills out, idly, and looked at them, thinking how little they bought compared to when I was younger. Now, I wondered why they even bothered printing anything smaller than fives. Even the new Richard Nixon three-dollar notes were barely worth carrying. Dead Presidents, it seemed, weren't what they used to be. Just like live ones-

I stopped, feeling the world miss a shift.

'No,' I said out loud.

* * *

'You see,' I told Rhonda Honda, 'this old friend of mine died yesterday.'

We were down at the end of the beach, in between a couple of dunes. It was dark now. Behind me, on the other side of the dune, I could hear occasional shouts and laughter: the Devil Dolls, settling in for the evening's partying.

They hadn't been happy to see me again; the one called Donna had made some very detailed threats, in fact, before Rhonda got her pacified. I hoped she stayed that way. Things were intense enough as it was.

Rhonda turned to face me. She'd shed most of her roadgrrl outfit now, all but her shoulder and shin guards, with shorts and a bikini top. Her flawless skin shone silver in the starlight.

'Yeah. He died trying to tell me something. Fur,' I said, turning the helmet in my hands. 'That was what I heard. Didn't make any sense. A shipment of hot furs? Animal-rights terrorists? What?'

I wished now I hadn't waited till dark. I'd have liked a better look at her facial expression.

'But he wasn't saying fur, was he? I didn't get it till just a little while ago… First Family,' I said, 'that's what he was trying to say, wasn't it? That's who's looking for Rhonda Honda, and doing everything necessary-including killing people-to make sure the whole thing stays secret.'

She took a step backward. Even in the deep shadow between the dunes I could see the whites of her eyes.

'So I ask myself, what's the story? Runaway First Family offspring? We haven't seen the President's daughter in the news lately, have we? But then we haven't had a White House sex scandal in a long time, either. Another young intern who couldn't resist the Presidential charm? Maybe even carrying a little addition of her own to the Family-'

From the darkness Margo's voice said, 'You ask too many questions, Noir. I warned you about that.'

She came walking around the dune, stepping carefully in the loose sand. In that black outfit she was almost invisible, but the starlight was enough to pick up the flash of her teeth. And the gun in her hand.

'Margo.' Rhonda Honda's voice carried tones of an old familiarity. 'I should have known he was one of yours.'

'Mine?' Margo laughed shortly. 'Just temporary help, that's all.' She looked at me. 'Bad help, too. You were supposed to call in when you found her. Not