decided the night when he had begun his new career that a new muffler was a good idea. He drove out to the Valley, stopped at a Mobil station to fill up his tank, and paid in cash. When he went into the little store to pay, he was at the end of a line of four men, all about twenty to thirty, all six feet to six-two and thin, all wearing denim and dark-colored T-shirts. He was sure that five minutes from now nobody would remember him, because in five minutes he would be replaced ten times by the next guys who looked just like him. One of the things he loved about L.A. was that there were a million of everything.
Jeff drove to the Siren Club and checked the parking lot for Lila’s shiny little red Honda. It was there, right where she liked to park it, under the bright lights mounted along the edge of the roof. Jeff turned south and west and drove to the diner he liked best because hardly anybody else did. He wanted a chance to be by himself and think through the acts he was going to have to perform later.
In the only stint he had ever done in prison, he had met a man named Girard. He preferred to be from France, but when he spoke French it didn’t sound like the French that Jeff’s teachers spoke. He was about sixty years old, but he could still do all sorts of gymnastics. During exercise periods he would do flips and cartwheels, and when he was in his cell he would walk around on his hands. He told Jeff that walking upside-down on his hands was the secret of his strength. It was true that he had very muscular arms and shoulders. He also told Jeff that his way to do anything difficult was to visualize it first, step by step in proper order. The method didn’t work very well for Jeff, because he usually did things on impulse and was very easily distracted. But he was determined to try again tonight.
He went into the diner and sat down facing away from the door. When the waitress came, he ordered a turkey dinner with gravy and potatoes and green beans, looked up at the mirror that ran the length of the back wall of the restaurant, and watched her walk away to hand in his order. Then he began the work of visualizing. He would arrive near the bank at 1:30 A.M. and spend some time studying the area to be sure there were no cops watching the building. He would then place himself in the parking garage near the back of the bank.
He looked straight ahead and saw the reflection of two young women walking in the front door. They were both about twenty-two or twenty-three, and they wore tight, low-cut, straight-leg jeans, and tops that had a little lace along the edge and straps like camisoles. They both had long brown hair with highlights streaked in to look like the effects of the sun, and skin that probably hadn’t been exposed to direct sunlight since they were nine. They saw the sign that said PLEASE SEAT YOURSELF, walked deeper into the restaurant, and stopped at the table right behind him. They both looked into the mirror briefly—first at themselves, then at him. His eyes met theirs and they looked away, kept smiling at each other and talking, and sat at that table anyway.
Jeff’s consciousness opened and filled itself with the two women until there was room for nothing else. His mind was captive. He listened only to them. The waitress brought his turkey dinner, and he was glad because it drew the attention of the two women, whose eyes followed it to his table. He cut his food into half-inch bits so he could eat slowly, letting his eyes move upward to the mirror at varying intervals to stray across the women. The one in the lime-green camisole had no trouble catching him at it every time. The first couple of times she pretended to give him a reprieve, looking away as though she thought he might actually have met her eyes accidentally. The third time she looked directly at him, gave him a quick smile, and raised her eyebrows in a question.
The woman seated with her back to Jeff glanced at her companion, half-turned to verify that the one she was silently communicating with was Jeff, then leaned forward to whisper to her. She set her napkin by her place, stood up, and walked past Jeff to the stairway that led to the restrooms. Jeff was aware that everything was some kind of test, so he willed himself not to watch her.
“I’m sorry if she looked at you in a weird way.” It was the girl in the lime green, who was still at her table behind him.
He looked into the mirror at her. “No, please. Don’t feel that way. I was trying to think of a way to talk to you anyway.”
Her smile came back. “What did you want to say?”
“That I wanted to talk to you”
“So
He shrugged. “That you’re beautiful. I suppose everybody who talks to you says that.”
“Pretty much. Men say that to every girl the first time they talk, no matter what she looks like. After that, most of them seem to think of something smarter to say.”
“I’m not very smart. Did your friend get mad because you were looking at me?”
“Not really. She went to the ladies’ room to give us a chance to see if we had anything.”
“What would we have?”
“Potential.”
“I think we do. Would your friend mind if you and I went somewhere for an after-dinner drink?”
“She’s my sister—a year older. Please don’t say you thought so. It’s like saying you had the right answer on the tip of your tongue. You didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t”
“So you’ve decided to be honest.”
“Yeah. To tell you the truth I never really looked at her. From the first second, it was you all the way. She was just the person who came in with you”
She laughed. “You’re such a liar. You have that plain, innocent face, and you never go out of character. Are you an actor?”
“Maybe I’m telling the truth. I’m a simple guy.”
“I saw you look at both of us the second we came in the door. When my sister turned around to sit down, you were staring at her ass. I saw you.”
“The mirror distorts things. I was probably looking at my shirt to see if I got gravy on it.”
“What’s your name?”
“Jeff”
“Show me your license.”
He took out his wallet and handed her his driver’s license.
“Arizona? You live in Arizona?” She seemed disappointed.
“No. I moved here a couple of months ago.”
She handed it back to him. “It says Jefferson Davis Falkins, all right. It’s also expired. You might want to do something about that before you get arrested.”
“I will. At least before I get executed. What’s your name?”
“Carrie.”
“I won’t ask for your license. But will you give me your phone number?”
“I haven’t decided yet. What do you do?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Then no.”
“I’m an entrepreneur. I invest in good ideas, turn them into businesses, run them for a while to prove they work, and then sell them.” He had heard someone say that on television and it had sounded good to him. “That’s why I don’t know yet what business I’m going to be in.”
“Is that true?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ve never lied to you before, have I?”
“No, never in all these years.” Her eyes focused on something beyond his head, and she quickly took a business card out of her purse and handed it to him, then withdrew her hand.
He could tell it must be her sister coming back, so he palmed the card and said, “When can we go for a drink? Are you free later?”
“After we pay our check, give me an hour to get back here.”
He nodded, pocketed the card, and then Carrie’s sister reappeared. As she prepared to resume her place at the table, Jeff stood and held out his hand. “Hi” he said. “My name is Jeff. I thought I should introduce myself.”
The sister looked down at his hand with distaste. “Why?”
He let his hand drop and she turned to Carrie. “Are you two friends now?”
“We’ve just been talking for a minute.”
Jeff said, “Is it okay to say I can see the resemblance now?”
“Resemblance to what?” The sister seemed suspicious, hostile.
