Playground (33 page)

would lead him to call me.

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“Someone loosened all the bolts on my tires and two of them

fell off coming down Laurel Canyon!”

“Two bolts?”

“No, two tires! The police told me the bolts were sawed off, so

at high speed they’d break instantly! It’s a miracle I wasn’t on the

freeway or else I’d be dead!”

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” I say, instantly forgiving him, as

feelings of guilt and fear wash over me.

“If you call a broken leg, a broken arm, and back brace okay,

then yeah.”

“Who would’ve done this?” I ask, immediately remembering my

mother’s car being bumped by some strange man on her way home.

“How should I know?” he barks.

“Where are you?” my hands tremble.

“Cedar Hospital.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Don’t bother,” he says with little emotion and hangs up.

I stand by the window finishing my cigarette until I walk down-

stairs to raid the fridge for food, anything to ease my anguish. The

house is pitch-black so I feel my way around the hallway, reaching

for the light switch that I know is inside the kitchen. My body halts

when I see my father standing inches in front of me in his under-

wear.

I try to take a casual step back but am frozen by fear. He’s not

alone. Vicki is standing beside him with a spooky grin across her

face. Her eyes are so dilated that you cannot see any color, only a

black-and-white socket. My father rocks back and forth, scratch-

ing his arms. Their eyes have an evil shimmer and it doesn’t take

long to realize they are both high. What the hell is going on? Why

are they standing in the pitch-black kitchen?

I can feel Vicki’s stare on the back of my head as I turn around

and move briskly back up the staircase. I close my bedroom door

and head right for my bathroom, pack a big bowl of chronic, and

suck the whole thing through. There are footsteps outside my door

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and I know it’s Vicki. I grab the phone and dive underneath the

bed. The only person I think to call is my sister on her private line.

“Hello?” I hear Savannah answer in a groggy voice.

“Savannah, it’s me.”

“Who’s that? I can’t hear you.”

“It’s me, Jennifer,” I whisper again. “I just wanted to tell you I

love you.”

“What’s wrong and why are you whispering?” she asks.

“Shush. Vicki can hear me. I can hear her breathing outside my

door.”

“Why would she be breathing on your door at this hour? Do

you know what time it is?”

“Listen, she just tried to kill Hayden and I think she’s going to

kill me next.”

“Are you stoned?”

“No. You have to save me!”

“Where are you?”

“I’m underneath my bed. Help me!”

“You really shouldn’t do drugs so late at night and call me with

these paranoid delusions,” she says.

“I’m not the one who’s paranoid.”

“Go to bed.”

“I can’t. She’ll get me.”

“Fine, sleep under the bed. Maybe they won’t find you there.

Good night.” Savannah hangs up and I realize my only link to the

outside world has just been cut.

I look around with wild eyes, reach my hand above the bed,

feel around for my pillow, and snatch it quickly.

Savannah’s right—they will never find me down here.

In the morning, after sleeping for four hours, I am stiff from being

curled up underneath the bed all night. I slip on sweats and a tank,

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and rush over to Cedar Hospital. The weatherman on the radio

tells me, “It’s going to be another sunny California day,” but I’m

not so sure.

I buy armfuls of balloons and flowers, and locate Hayden’s

room. He’s covered in bandages. One leg is elevated in the air

while his arm is wrapped in a white cast. The bed is raised a few

feet from behind so his back brace has plenty of room to adjust.

The balloons and flowers fit perfectly into a vase on the end table.

“Hayden, I’m so sorry.” I place my hand on his, but he moves

away, barely acknowledging me. “I know you already hate me so

what I have to say will probably seal the deal,” I say, full of guilt. He

slowly turns and looks in my direction. “I think I know who did

this to you.”

“Who?” he asks without another word.

“I know this sounds crazy, but I think it was my father’s crazy

girlfriend.”

“What?” Hayden shouts, with cold menace. “The shit just piles

up faster and faster with you.”

His voice is powerful and there is still something very seduc-

tive about him. His muscles bulge through his hospital gown. His

baby-soft cheeks are rosy, though the whites of his eyes are blood-

shot, and in many ways he resembles my father.

“Get the fuck out of here!” he yells, shifting himself in painful

ways. “And stay away or I’ll file a restraining order against you and

your psycho father! You hear me? I never want to see you again!” he

screams, slamming the vase to the floor.

The crashing noise scares me as I turn and hurry out into the

sterile white hospital hallway. I’m heading toward the exit doors,

which seem so far away. I burst through them and into the parking

lot. Leaning over on the hood of my car, I inhale deep breaths, des-

perate to pump the life back into myself.

At home, I head straight for the kitchen but stop cold when I

hear Vicki’s voice coming from upstairs. I can’t help but listen to

her conversation. I have a strange feeling in my gut.

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“Boy Wonder doesn’t know if it’s day or night. He thinks

somebody wants to kill him. The only problem is that little bitch

Jennifer. I’ve been trying to get her out of here, but she has

nowhere to go,” she hisses.

My body temperature drops as I process this information. I

pick up the back office line and try to call my father. It rings and

rings but there is no answer. I look up to see Vicki barreling into

the room, rushing at me, yanking the cord out of the wall.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

“I live here.”

The sunken, black circles underneath her eyes pale in compar-

ison to the purplish bruises on her arms. What alarms me even

more is that she seems to have no comprehension as to the absurd-

ity of it all. She has a psychotic expression on her face as she uses

both arms to pin my head against the wall. The possibility of dan-

ger begins to sink in.

We stare at each other. I stay quiet as she grabs my chin firmly.

Inside I was hysterical—there were Uzis and a coke whores in the

house—but outwardly I knew I needed to remain absolutely com-

posed. I couldn’t believe what was happening. My instinct is to

scream, but no one can hear me. I can’t move or speak. My heart is

beating so fast I can feel my pulse throbbing in the palm of my

hands.

I duck swiftly, catching her off guard, and run down the hall-

way as she follows closely behind. I spin around the corner, search-

ing for something, anything to defend myself. I grab an iron statue

of a female nude and hurry into the den, hiding behind the swing-

ing door and clutching the statue for dear life. I can hear her

breathing as she turns the corner.

“You little bitch!” Vicki points her finger at me, but the gesture

is so powerful it might as well be a gun.

Her features are distorted and a look of disgust floods her face.

She blocks my path. Both of us are yelling when someone shouts,

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“Get away from her, you stupid whore!” I look up to see my father

looming over us.

I’m not sure which one of us he’s talking to. He steps forward

and pushes Vicki aside.

“Are you okay?” he asks me. His voice is muffled, like he’s at the

end of a long tunnel.

He lifts me up. My legs are shaking and can hardly hold me as

he puts his arm around me for support. He hugs me assuredly,

comforting me, telling me not to worry, that he is going to take

care of everything.

I am still a little girl in his arms.

He orders Vicki to get the fuck out and never come back.

In light of all the hateful things we’ve said to each other, I am

grateful for the reassurance that my father would never put one

of his girlfriends before me. Vicki’s physically out of our lives for

good, but she leaves a permanent scar. She began a surge of de-

struction that will outlast her memory.

I will sleep fitfully, waking at the slightest noise, terrified Vicki

or one of her friends has returned. In my dreams, I see her thin

drug-racked body, my father hobbling down the hall, needles

falling from the pockets of his robe. Remnants of the smell of un-

washed sheets and rubbing alcohol make me sick to my stomach.

I will fight demons and dragons late at night when everyone else

is sleeping, never seeing my father’s face behind them.

One morning, my father wakes me; he’s shaking.

“Wake up, wake up. We have an early appointment!” Dad

coughs. It’s clear that he hasn’t slept in days. He has a scary grin

across his face.

“An appointment?” I sit up, my heart coming to a crashing

stop. “With who?”

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“I don’t want to discuss it now. Get dressed,” he urges, and I

can see his skinny legs beneath his blue terry-cloth robe as he leaves

my room.

Ten minutes later, we’re driving in his car. He’s shivering. He’s

put on the same blue jeans and striped Izod shirt he’s worn for

days. “What’s going on?” I ask.

“I need to make arrangements,” he answers.

“For what?”

“My will.”

“Why would you need to do that now?”

“Because I may not be here,” he confesses.

“Where would you be?”

“It’s all going to be over soon,” he says with impending doom.

“What is?” I ask as he speeds up. Things are happening so

quickly.

“I’m in danger. At risk.”

“From who?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be in this situation, would I?” he says

condescendingly. “I want you to have the house, the cars, CDs,

bonds, everything.”

“Why are you saying this?” I am choked up.

“There’s too much to explain. It’s just better this way,” he as-

sures me as we pull into the parking lot of Century City Towers. I

am relieved to get out of the car, but my mind is floundering. We

wait for the elevator, rush up to the twentieth floor, and are buzzed

into a plush office to meet with Gregory James, attorney-at-law.

Dad and I sit across from his mahogany desk as he hands my

father a few papers. Dad quickly shuffles through them, reviews

them, and hands them back to the attorney, with a new draft he

pulls out of his briefcase.

“Jennifer, I am appointing you as the executor of my will. You

are now my beneficiary. I am leaving my entire estate to you.”

I listen without blinking.

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