Boulevard (24 page)

“If you don't mind me asking, how old are you?”

“Eighteen—almost nineteen.”

“Eighteen,” Erin said. “Really eighteen?”

“Really eighteen. Got I.D. to prove it.”

Right,
Jimmy thought.

“Dani told me you might be able to help us,” Jimmy said.

“Yeah, but I really dunno know anything.”

He slid the picture of Lodge over. “You ever remember seeing this guy.”

“Nah.”

Bingo. She answered too fast. She sees more guys a day than a New York subway token seller, and she shoots right back, that she never saw Lodge? No way.

“You're sure?”

“Sure.”

“You know who he is?”

“Nah.”

“Tara,” Jimmy said, “I'm gonna ask you another question, and with this one, you gotta answer us honestly, okay? And I'll tell you why. Why is—a less than honest answer could make me and Erin do a
real
check on your age, find out exactly where and when you were born. And if by some crazy mistake we find out you're not eighteen, there could be some trouble. Now, honestly, and only between us here at this table—you do dates, right?”

She looked directly at him, then over to Erin. Erin and Tara's eyes met.

“You do, right, sweetie?” Erin said.

“I've done some.”

“These dates,” Erin said, “they ever involve the guy in the picture?”

Jimmy thought about jumping in, but Erin had the ball. He wasn't going to take it over the goal line—she was. He stayed quiet. So did Erin, letting the question sink in.

Tara held her cup to her lips. She looked like she wanted to speak, but couldn't do it …

Finally, she put down her cup and said, “I gotta go. I got my turn coming up.”

She pulled her jacket zipper all the way up. But Erin slid the picture a little closer to her.

“Take another look, okay? Please.”

She did. Her lip quivered the tiniest bit.

“Look,” Erin said, “the world of the clubs and dating, you probably know a thousand times more about it than I do …” Tara smiled for an instant. “But one thing I do know is, lots of kids who come to Hollywood think they can take anything, and most of the time, they're probably right. But there's also some other stuff that they get involved with, that makes even the toughest kids say, woah, this is too much. There's stuff that goes on here that
I
feel that way about. I can't even imagine how a sixteen or seventeen year old feels. And maybe you know a girl who's tough, tough in all sorts of ways—dances with the older girls, maybe does some coke or meth' from time to time, does dates. But maybe she had a date with some guy she thought was rich and safe, but later on, the guy ends up dead. And maybe she thinks that if she says anything about the guy, the same thing could happen her. She's afraid—who wouldn't be? Now say that's the case. Well, I'd want her to know the person who killed the guy isn't some big time hit man, but probably someone who just lost it. Maybe even a kid. Who, as far as we know, could be a thousand miles away from here by now. We may never get this guy, but it's our job to find out what happened. There are a lot of jerks out there—way too many of them—who take advantage of kids. I'm guessing you've met a bunch yourself. And me and Jimmy are trying to do something about it … And, if it's okay with you, I want to try something. You mind?”

Tara nodded.

“Here goes … I'm going to count to five, and at the end of that five, if you knew the guy in the picture keep on stirring your hot chocolate, like you're doing now, but if you didn't know him, stop stirring.”

Tara looked right at Erin. Not saying a word. Jimmy watched the stirrer in her hot chocolate. It was moving. Erin began to count.

“One … two …”

The stirring continued. White cream circling in a tiny whirlpool of chocolate.

“… Three … four… .”

Jimmy glanced up at Erin and then back down to the stirrer.

“… and five.” The swirling went on.

Erin's gaze was locked on Tara. The girl's eyes were the tiniest bit moist, and it looked like she was on the edge of losing it. Erin crossed to the other side of the table and put her hand on Tara's arm. Tara truly looked her age now. Then softly, so softly that Jimmy could barely hear, she said, “He sent me out on dates.”

“Sent you out?” Jimmy said.

“He got them. I went wherever he told me.”

“Where'd you go?”

“All over. Nice neighborhoods …”

Erin and Jimmy both stayed quiet. The best interview technique Jimmy knew was after someone gives you an answer, don't rush in with the next question. Leave a gap, and half the time, the person you're asking will feel obligated to fill in that space.

A moment later, in a voice even softer, Tara said, “There's something else.”

“What?” Erin said, her voice matching Tara's.

“There was something sicko about him. He sent me out on all these dates, but it wasn't only that. After I went in, he hung around and took pictures.”

“Pictures?” Erin said.

“I would go inside the houses, and they were always all fancy, I was supposed to somehow get the john by a window, so he could get a picture of me and him.”

“What for?” Erin said.

“He was sick. Lot's of them out there.”

“Where'd you meet him?”

“Sean. Thanks a lot.”

“Anything more about Lodge?” Erin said.

“Yeah. Usually after a date, when I left the john's house, he'd fuck me too. Asshole.”

Jimmy looked at Tara. She was still just a kid. Jesus Christ.

“Why don't you quit early tonight?” Jimmy said. “We'll take you home.”

“I can't. Sean promised to get me a part in a movie. If I don't come back, you think that's gonna happen?”

49

J
immy and Erin sat on the same side of the coffee house table looking over his small notebook. They were the last customers; the counter girl had closed her laptop and was loading the dishwasher. Jimmy had written down all they knew. The pictures, the Sean connection, the autopsy report—everything. Erin leaned over, and with her pen, drew an arc between Tara's story and the girl with the two earrings. As she leaned in to write, Jimmy felt her breasts brush against his arm. He sucked in his breath. It was strange—tonight he had probably seen dozens of girls with their tops off. Fabulous breasts, out there for all to admire. But the tiniest brush of Erin's, wrapped in a bra, and covered by a thick sweater, had his head spinning.

50
Casey

C
asey looked across the Denny's booth at Dragon. The future sucked, the past was worse. She thought time would help her forget. It didn't. That night, the night that changed everything, was burning inside her. And Dragon would understand …

The Chateau room service guy, a Mexican kid, a few years older than her, brought them a packed tray. Casey gave him a tip and brought the food over to the bed. There was a fat steak for Paul, some great-looking apples, a huge bowl of strawberries, a silver bowl of cream, two pieces of strawberry shortcake, a bottle of champagne, and some sodas. The feast of a lifetime.

On their little balcony, Paul popped the cork. It was Casey's first time. The bubbles on her tongue felt good, and the cold, sweet champagne sliding down her throat made her smile. The strawberries, bright red, and full of juice, tasted even better. Back inside, the sleek radio played an old Neville Brothers song. The cold wind whipped her long hair behind her, then across her face and then straight back again. Paul put his arms around her waist. They swayed to the music, and then they were dancing. The guy from the Neville Brothers had the sweetest voice on the planet.

If you want me to love you, baby I will. You know that I will. Tell it like it is …

Casey buried her head in Paul's shoulder. They moved in a tight circle. God, it felt good. Yeah, he had AIDS, but so do lots of people. And Dr. Lee was right, people live a really, really long time with it.

Tell it like it is. Don't be ashamed. Let your conscience be your guide. Deep down inside me, I believe you love me …

They were going to pull through. With each other. They'd start a whole new life. As they danced, Casey caught a glimpse of the street below. People were small. The Marlboro Man was big. He was on duty as usual, having a smoke. Watching over the Strip, watching over them.

You know life is too short to have sorrow. You may be here, and gone tomorrow. You might as well get what you want. Baby, baby don't leave. Baby, Baby don't leave …

She felt tears rolling down her face. She and Paul would make it. They'd—

Their room at the Chateau did a fast fade. Something big was going on outside of the Denny's. Casey and Dragon looked out the window. Jumper, Dog-Face, Dream and the rest were sprinting down the street.

Dragon was first out the door and Casey followed just behind. She was nervous and confused, but she knew if the other guys were running, she should be with them. She ran down off the Boulevard, turned into the Carl's Jr. parking lot—and stopped short. In front of her was a long ribbon of bright yellow police tape, pulled taut and bouncing in the wind. Cops wearing black LAPD jackets were hanging out. Pressed against the tape was a line of kids. Casey hurried towards them. Afraid. She slid between June Bug and Jumper and saw a sheet on the ground over a body. The sheet didn't cover the body entirely, and barely visible, was a tiny bit of a girl's leg, wearing fishnet stockings—Tulip. Tulip! What the fuck?! Why? Why Tulip?

Casey felt an arm slide around her waist, June Bug's. And from the other side, Jumper's. A cop in a purple polo shirt and jeans came over to them. He glanced down at a notebook. “Girl's street name was Tulip. Know her?”

“Yeah,” Jumper said.

“Know anybody that would want to do this to her?”

Jumper was silent. June Bug was silent. Casey was silent too. What could she say—that there'sa thousand assholes on the Boulevard that treat them like shit? Any one of them could have done it. One more dead street kid and they could care less …

There was nothing to say.

A couple of hours later. The cops were gone, the police photographer had left, and the guys who worked inside the Carl's Jr. The cameramen from KABC and Fox were also gone—they both stayed about ten seconds, long enough to get a shot of the body before jumping back into their vans and heading for the next body. The yellow tape was gone. And Tulip's body was long gone.

But the street kids were still there. Dozens of kids. And where Tulip's body once lay, there were hundreds of candles—burning into the night. Spread throughout the sea of candles were just as many tulips—red, yellow, purple, and white. Casey sat on the parking lot curb next to Dragon, gripping her arm. Beside Dragon were the others from the squat. Kids from all over the Boulevard kept coming and slowly walked back and forth, weaving through the flowers and candles.

Casey was transfixed on the candles.

She turned to Dragon and said, “I just saw her. A couple of hours ago.”

“She was such a good person,” Dragon said.

“The best,” Casey said.

“I can't believe it.”

“Some john greasing you, OD'ing, getting raped, killing yourself—everyone ends up the same.”

Casey looked back at the candles and kept staring at them until they slipped out of focus, making the city disappear … A dozen flickering, yellow ovals filled her darkness …

“I got so much shit I can't get out of my head … Never goes away, no matter what.”

51
Jimmy

T
ara was sleeping across the back seat as Jimmy and Erin drove Sunset towards Beverly Hills. As soon as she finished her last lap dance, she found them in the parking lot. Jimmy grabbed a glimpse of Tara in the rearview mirror and thought, if you didn't know any better, you could almost believe they were a family returning late from a long trip—only the daughter asleep in the back was a baby hooker and the parents were anything but married.

Erin sat low in the seat with her black cowboy boots up on the dashboard. She looked silently out the windshield, watching the Strip slide past. Jimmy wondered what she was thinking. In his mind was one thought above all—Erin. He was looking at forty and had been through too many relationships. Some were real, like Shannon, until it wasn't. Others were about hammering down half a dozen tequilas at a party, falling instantly in lust with the cute blonde in the kitchen, and then doing everything he could to get her naked in his bed by the end of the night. He had lived with two women besides Shannon. One walked out when he wasn't ready to get married again—at least not to her, and the other, a pastry chef from Sydney, went back home after a year, breaking his heart. All those girls had faded far away—and the one of his dreams was right next to him. But she was married, and he was always going to wonder what could've been?

“Think it's time to wake sleeping beauty?” Erin said.

“Sure.”

She leaned over the seat and gently touched Tara on the shoulder. “Sorry, baby. But this won't take long.”

Tara rubbed her eyes and figured out her bearings.

“Go down there,” she said.

Jimmy turned just past Rodeo. Two blocks later she told him to take another left. And then another.

“I think it's right around here.”

“You remember which side?” Erin said.

“I'm not sure.”

Jimmy slowed the car to a crawl. Tara leaned forward to look at the houses, draping her arms over the front seat. At the end of the block was a ‘No Outlet' sign and Jimmy circled the car back around.

“I know it's around here someplace. It had a cool door knocker.”

Any other time, a line like that would've bugged Jimmy. A cool door knocker—that's a great description. Now, it didn't phase him at all. It was three in the morning, the streets were quiet, and with Erin beside him, he felt a strange calm. He was in no rush.