she was being followed by a police cruiser. She continued to talk on her phone.
After a while, Jesse hit the siren and lights. He saw Courtney look in her rearview mirror. He beeped the siren a few times, signaling for her to pull over.
When both vehicles were stopped on the shoulder, Jesse got out of his cruiser and walked to the Lexus. Courtney lowered her window as he approached.
“License and registration,” he said.
She stared at him.
“You again,” she said. “What do you want this time?”
“Your license and registration, please. And while you’re at it, hand me your phone, too.”
“Why?”
“It’s illegal in Massachusetts for anyone under the age of eighteen to talk on a handheld device while driving.”
“Everyone knows that’s a stupid law.”
“It’s a law, however, regardless of your personal lack of regard for it.”
“I suppose you’re gonna arrest me again.”
“No. I’m going to cite you for breaking the law. And I’m going to confiscate your phone.”
“Must you?”
Jesse didn’t say anything.
She removed the license from her wallet and handed it to him.
“Registration,” Jesse said.
“It’s in here somewhere. Do I really have to find it?”
“You do if you don’t want to spend the next several hours in jail.”
She glared at him, then started searching for the registration slip.
“Cell phone,” he said.
“What?”
“Give me your phone.”
“No.”
“Don’t force me to arrest you again.”
She sighed.
She gave him the phone.
“Everyone talks on their cell phones,” she said.
“Didn’t yesterday teach you anything?”
“Like what?”
“Like how driving while distracted can cause accidents and seriously injure people.”
He stepped away from her car and began writing the citation.
She returned her license to her wallet and the registration slip to the glove box.
She muttered the word “shithead” under her breath.
He heard her.
“You talking to me,” Jesse said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
He stepped closer to the car and stared at her. Then he handed her the citation.
“What do I do with this?”
“What it says to do.”
“How about I just give it to my father.”
“You can give it to the tooth fairy, for all I care.”
He smiled at her.
“Have a nice day,” he said.
14
Ryan followed Marisol’s black Range Rover as it pulled through the gates into the driveway of her Beverly Hills mansion. He’d been parked down the street, waiting for her, sailing on a crystal meth high.
She had stopped taking his calls, and it had occurred to him that this might be his only opportunity to speak with her.
By the time Marisol saw him approaching, it was too late for her to reach the house or get back into her car.
He grabbed her arm.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You gave me no choice.”
“Let go of me,” she said, trying to wrest herself free.
“I want you to forgive me,” he said, tightening his grip.
“You’re frightening me, Ryan.”
“That’s not my intention.”
“Let go of me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
He let her go.
She stepped backward, massaging her arm.
“I know things haven’t gone well with us,” he said. “I did things I’m ashamed of. I beg your forgiveness.”
“My forgiveness?”
“Yes.”
“Come off it, Ryan.”
“No, I mean it.”
“What do you really want?”
“I want us to be friends.”
“Friends? How could you even think such a thing?”
She glared at him. He reached over and caressed her face. She cringed.
“I need a favor,” he said.
She didn’t say anything.
“I want to leave California. I want to start fresh. In New York.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I’m broke.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“I know,” he said, growing agitated. “But I’m asking you to help me.”
“Help you how?”
“I need twenty-five thousand dollars. To get me to New York. To get me settled there. To allow me to live while I start over.”
“You want me to give you twenty-five thousand dollars?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t say anything.
“We had some good times, Marisol. We even loved each other. What’s done is done. Just this one favor. Please. I’ll never bother you again.”
She thought about it.
“All right,” she said.
“You’ll give me the money?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“I don’t keep that kind of cash around.”
“You could write me a check.”
