Halfway down, she stopped, turned toward him and was shocked to see him between the two policemen. They were holding onto his arms. His hands were handcuffed behind his back. He wasn’t going to come up and get her, after all.
“It’s my daughter,” he said.
“It’s okay!” The Ghost said as he let go of her father’s arm, but Jazz didn’t believe him.
She looked around. Mrs. Emerson from 1210 was putting her key card into the beach gate. Jazz didn’t need an invitation. She waved, hoping to fool the policemen. She started down the steps, keeping her eyes on Mrs. Emerson as she pulled her card out of the slot.
“Hey, lady,” the Ghost yelled out. He must have seen where she was looking.
“What?” Mrs. Emerson started to swing the gate open.
Jazz took the remaining steps as fast as she could, then hauled out at a dead run for the gate as Mrs. Emerson opened it ever wider.
“Close the gate!” The Ghost was waving his arms now. He had Mrs. Emerson’s attention. “Don’t let her get away!”
But Jazz was already at the gate. She grabbed the card from the startled Mrs. Emerson and pulled the gate closed after herself. Then she dashed along the bike trail that paralleled the chain link fence separating the condominium complex from the public beach.
“Stop!” The Ghost, unable to get out, was running along the sidewalk on the inside of the fence, but he was no match for the blur in blue jeans running as fast as her almost eight-year-old legs could carry her. “Come back!” the Ghost called out when he reached the end of the property, but Jazz turned left and ran across Pacific Coast Highway toward Main Street.
She weaved between the cars on the highway and ducked into Jerry’s Surf Shop, panting like she’d just finished a marathon. She caught her breath in the Hawaiian shirt section. The big Coca Cola clock behind the register said it was 4:15. She needed to hide out till dark.
“Can I help you?”
“Oh, hi,” Jazz said to a girl wearing a “Guns ‘n’ Roses” T-shirt. She had bright orange hair and was frowning at Jazz through a face full of freckles.
“I’m gonna get a tuna sandwich at the juice bar in back,” Jazz said.
“Where’s your mother?”
“I don’t need my mom to get a sandwich.”
“Do you have any money?”
“What a stupid question.” She had thirteen dollars in her back pocket.
Jazz bought the tuna sandwich and had a glass of Jerry’s special tropical juice blend to go with it. She nursed them for the better part of an hour. Then she ordered carrot cake for desert. She had to stay out of sight till her mother returned, because with her father arrested they might not let her stay with Gay anymore. They might put her in a foster home. She needed somewhere to hide, then she thought of the movies.
“I wish Jazz would come back.” Sonya was sitting on the edge of her mother’s bed, while Gay changed from the clothes she wore at the salon into jeans and a San Francisco Giant’s T-shirt. Jasmine had been gone for almost an hour. She saw the sun, an orange ball going down over the ocean. It would be dark soon.
“Me too,” Gay said, “but I wouldn’t worry. She knows her way around.” But Gay was worried.
Two hours after ducking into the theater, Jasmine went outside to a dark night. She was out of money now. The sandwich and cake at the Surf Shop and the movie had taken it all. But she couldn’t think of a better place to hide then the fourth row center. Besides, the movie took her mind off her father.
She crossed Pacific Coast Highway at the Main Street light and continued on to the bike trail that ran through the beach. She still had Mrs. Emerson’s key card, so getting in would be easy.
“Hey, look out!” Someone shouted and Jazz jumped aside as a couple of older kids flew by on mountain bikes.
“Watch where you’re going!” she shouted after them, but they didn’t hear. She watched till they were out of sight in the dark, then she was alone on the bike trail. Spooky. And there was no moon. Real spooky.
She’d lived by the beach all her life and she’d been on the trail lots of times after dark, but never alone. When she was alone, she always came home the front way, straight across PCH at Main Street, then past the guard shack. She looked through the chain link fence when she reached the condos. Everything inside seemed normal. No sign of the Ghost. And no sign of her dad. It looked safe. She ran her hand along the fence till she got to the gate. She keyed the gate and slipped in without a sound.
She dashed to C building, was about to take the stairs up to the clubhouse, when she heard footsteps. She leaned back against the building, arms at her sides, palms against the stucco wall. Her hands were cold, her feet sweating in her running shoes. She inched along the wall till she was under the stairs.
Someone was just the other side of the building. Then all of a sudden that someone was in front of her, standing at the foot of the stairs. The outside light from an apartment on the second floor shone down on Gay, making her face glow like an angel’s.
Gay dropped to her knees and held her arms out. Jazz burst into tears and ran into them.
“It’s okay. I’m here.” The child looked like she’d been living on the run, like a homeless waif. She was scared.
“Don’t let him take me away. Please don’t let him.” Jazz was trembling, covered in cold sweat.
“Don’t worry.” Gay hugged her tight, killing the shivers. But could she kill her fears?
“He’s horrible, promise!”
“I promise, Jazz.” Gay hated to say it, but she agreed with Jasmine. Her father was horrible. She wondered what Margo had ever seen in him.
“You mean it?” Jazz pulled back, looked into Gay’s eyes. “Really?”
“Really. Now let’s get inside and get you into a hot bath.” Gay broke the hug. “Okay?” She led her to the safety of her living room. Sonya was waiting, sitting on the couch. The TV was on, a video, but the sound was off.
“You’re staying with us till your mom gets back. No one’s gonna take you away.” Gay was worried about how long Margo was going to be. She’d said she’d be back on Saturday before noon. The woman was a cuckoo clock without springs, but she was usually punctual.
“Not even my dad, you promised.”
“Especially not him.” Bruce Kenyon didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting the girl, no matter how long Margo took to get back.
“Thank you.” Jasmine jumped up on the sofa next to Sonya, the bath apparently forgotten.
“But I gotta tell you, I’m worried about your mom. She said she’d be back this morning.”
“No way,” Jasmine said. “She’s starting back at midnight. She said so, so she could be back in time to take me out to breakfast tomorrow morning.”
“I could have sworn she told me today before noon.”
“She probably did,” Sonya said.
“Yeah,” Jasmine said. “That’s my mom, sometimes she messes up.”
She messes up a lot, Gay thought, but she wasn’t going to say it. She crossed her fingers, something she hadn’t done since she was a little girl.
“Why are you doing that, Mom?” Sonya said.
“For luck, wishing Margo a safe journey home.” The girls crossed their fingers, too. Both hands.
Chapter Five
Maggie opened her eyes and was surprised to see that the dance floor was crowded. A slow song was playing, the Beatles’ ‘Yesterday.’ She saw Horace with the ferret face dancing with a woman wearing a long dress.
