Sex and Violence in Hollywood (9 page)

“Hey, hey, go easy on Mrs. Yu, okay?” Adam whispered.

Gwen frowned and leaned toward him. “What’s wrong with you?”

Adam scrubbed his face with both hands, yawned. “Nothing. I’m sorry. Just lay off Mrs. Yu. You might even want to get to know her. She’s had a very rough life and somehow she’s managed to remain a good person in spite of it. That’s more than you can say for most people who’ve led easy lives.”

Mrs. Yu returned briefly to set a small crystal ashtray in front of Gwen, then disappeared.

“So, what did you do that kept you out so late?” She gave him a calm smile, as if to show the sudden outburst was forgotten.

“First, I was with Carter. He’s making this severed head that is truly amazing.”

“I’m telling you, that boy is a serial killer in the making. What about last night?”

“I went...out.”

The left side of Gwen’s mouth curled upward. “Who is she? What’s she like?”

Adam cautiously searched her face.

She laughed and said, “You don’t have to worry, Adam. You should be dating, I want you to date.”

Adam put down his fork and smiled, pleased to hear her say that. “Her name is Alyssa. She’s...different. Not like anybody I’ve known, really. We just met, but when I’m around her, she makes me feel like...like we’ve known each other a long time but didn’t get around to actually meeting until this week.”

“Oh, such a romantic, Adam. It’s sweet.”

“I guess that’s better than being a boy.”

“Did you happen to see Rain anytime last night or this morning?”

He chuckled. “Thought you wanted me to stay away from her.”

“The more I think about it, the more I think you might be good for her.” She sighed, shook her head. “She just got back to L.A. and she stays out all night. She’s upstairs asleep now, but I don’t know where she’s been.”

“Did you ask her?”

“Not yet. You’ll be hearing that when it happens. We always end up shouting, she says horrible things—” A deep breath as she fidgeted, “—and I suppose I do, too.”

“Does she have friends around here?” Adam asked.

“A few. She did before she went off to live with her dad, anyway. A bunch of lowlifes.”

“Why did you let her hang out with them?”

“Let her?” She tipped her head back and laughed. “Same reason I let the earth revolve, honey. I don’t have much choice.”

Having spent some time with Rain, that made perfect sense to Adam.

“She’s...you just don’t know her. Her dad could talk to her. I never could.” She smiled at Adam again. “Maybe you’ll be a good influence on her.”

Adam laughed to cover his discomfort. “Yeah. I’ll let her borrow my Bible. I’ve already underlined all the holiest parts.

“Just be careful. Like I said.”

“You talk about her like she’s the Incredible Hulk, or something. What are you afraid she’ll do, break my neck with her bare hands and throw me down the Hitchcock steps?”

Gwen scooted her chair closer to Adam at the end of the oval table, leaned close. He smelled whiskey on her breath.

“An ex of mine, before I met Michael,” she said. “He’s in prison right now. At the bottom of the food chain, you know what I mean?”

“What’s he in prison for?”

“Child molestation.”

“Is he a child molester?”

Gwen laughed. “Of course not. Rain was never a child, not even at twelve.”

Adam shook his head, rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.”

“Rain seduced him. And when he wouldn’t give her money, she cried rape. Poor Taylor. He wasn’t such a bad guy. Now he’s in prison, probably with some big guy’s bitch.”

The image terrified Adam, made him feel nauseated. But it confused him, too. He could not understand Gwen’s attitude toward what had happened. “Gwen, the man fucked your twelve-year-old daughter!”

“I think everyone will fuck her eventually. Probably before she’s twenty. You didn’t see her when she was twelve, Adam. She developed early. Looked like an expensive whore before she was thirteen.”

“But this guy, your boyfriend, he knew she was twelve, right?”

Gwen reached over to stub out her cigarette in the crystal ashtray on the table. Instead, she dropped it in when she heard Michael’s voice.

“Who’s been smoking in here, Goddamnit?”

Adam turned to see his dad standing in the kitchen with his attorney, Roger Menkin. Rog was Michael’s age and short, midway between five and six feet. He tried to make up for his lack of height with clothes and jewelry. One of Michael’s oldest friends, he had been his attorney long before Michael had become a success and amassed an army of attorneys. A freshly-lit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, shit,” Gwen breathed as Michael came toward the breakfast nook. Rog stayed by the kitchen doorway.

“How many times have I gotta tell you, Gwen?” he said angrily. “This is a non-smoking family. We’ve all gotta die, but nobody in the Julian family’s gonna do it because their lungs don’t work or they’ve got cancer.” He reached down and stubbed out the butt in the ashtray.

Gwen stood and went to him, kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I was being naughty.” She reached down and squeezed his ass. “What brings you home so early?”

He softened quickly, put his arms around her and smiled. “My baby’s health, that’s what,” he said, lowering his voice. “I don’t want anything to happen to your lungs. You know how much I love your...lungs.” They laughed together.

Chuckling, Rog said, “Am I going to be able to get you out of here, Mike?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta go. I just came to pick up some stuff I left in the office.” He kissed her again and started to leave, but turned to Adam. “Hey, what about July Fourth? We need to know how many to plan for. You coming? Gonna bring anybody?”

Adam cringed inside at the thought of a week on the yacht with his dad. Michael Julian went out on his yacht occasionally throughout the year, usually with assorted industry types. But every year on Independence Day, he took his family out for the week. It had been fun when Adam was a kid. Sometimes they went to Mexico, or north up the California coast to Oregon, Washington. On the night of the Fourth, Michael always shot off some elaborate fireworks. But as Adam grew older, the fighting between his parents had grown worse, and being with them for a week became less enjoyable every year. He had stopped going after his mom died, and now the very sight of Money Shot, as Michael had christened the yacht, depressed him.

But it might be fun if Alyssa were with him. He liked the idea, but would have to decide if he was ready to expose her to his dad yet.

“Yeah, I might go,” Adam said with a nod.

“Might? What, you gonna check with your personal assistant? See what your schedule’s like?” Michael guffawed. “Okay, Adam, you have your people talk to my people. But do it by tomorrow, Goddamnit.” He kissed Gwen again, then left the breakfast nook saying, “I’m out of here.” Rog followed him out of the kitchen, and his cigarette trailed a ribbon of smoke.

Gwen sighed. “I suppose I should try to accomplish something today.” She stood, picked up the coffee mug, and winked at Adam. “See you later.”

After she was gone, Adam picked at his breakfast for a while before deciding he could not finish it. He wanted to get out of the house.

NINE

It was a typical summer day
in Los Angeles. Hot and humid, smog that clung to the insides of nostrils like a greasy film. And always in the air, the exhaust of cars, the sound of their engines, and the cars themselves. So many cars, endless columns of them, everywhere, stopping, going, honking.

Adam originally planned to go see Carter first, maybe even go to the gym, then drop by The Book Place late in the afternoon. But he needed to feel the way Alyssa made him feel, and he did not want to wait that long to feel it.

When he stepped into the bookstore, the bell rang and Adam smelled smoldering rose petals, a hint of honey and cinnamon. Behind the counter, a woman removed books from a brown grocery bag, stacked them on the counter until the bag was empty, then started on another. She stood up tall and straight and smiled at Adam. Her hair was thick, long, and frizzy. Once a light brown, silver had infiltrated and blended nicely, turned it the color of ash.

“Hi,” she said. “How are you?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“Can I help you find something?”

“Um...Alyssa? My name’s Adam. I came by to see her.”

She had a lot of teeth, but they were white and shiny, and the slightly crooked one in the front gave her smile a sexy bite.

“Hi, Adam,” she said, extending a hand over the counter. “I’m Sunset. But everyone calls me Sunny.”

Smiling, Adam asked, “Is Alyssa around?”

“Not right now. She could show up anytime. Or not. We’re not much of a clock-watching family.”

“You’re Alyssa’s mom? Nice to meet you.”

Sunny wore no makeup, didn’t need any. Her skin was fair, healthy, and lightly freckled.

“Guess I should have called first,” Adam said.

“She’ll be in sooner or later. Find something to read.”

“Do you know where she might be?”

“No idea. We pretty much let Alyssa go her way. We figure the only way to learn about life is to live it, right? That’s how we were raised. Where did you meet Alyssa?”

“Here, in the store.”

“Ah! You must be the customer she mentioned. She hardly ever talks to us, but she mentioned you. So, you’re Alyssa’s suitor?”

Adam laughed at the word. “Sounds like I came to fit her for something.”

Sunny slapped the counter as she laughed, made her braless breasts sway beneath her white peasant blouse. Adam was sure he would be able to see her nipples through the thin cotton if not for the colorful, intricately-beaded bolero vest she wore over the blouse.

“You’re a book lover, too?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah. When I’m not reading, I’m watching a movie.”

“Do you want to direct?” She laughed, shook her head. “Sorry. It just seems everyone in this town wants to direct.”

“Including my dad.”

“What does he do when he isn’t wanting to direct?”

“He’s a screenwriter.”

“Ah, a writer.”

“No. A screenwriter. In his case, there’s a difference.”

Behind her, an old black-and-white poster was tacked to a door. John Lennon in a fetal position beside Yoko Ono, both naked on a bed. The door opened and a lanky man taller than Sunny came out to the counter. The top of his head was bare. The thin reddish-brown hair that wreathed his skull fell just past the collar of his shirt. The shirt was not tucked into his jeans, but its bagginess could not conceal the pot belly that stood out on his otherwise skinny frame. Gold wire frames held thick lenses before his gentle eyes. The thick mustache was too big for his face.

Sunny introduced Adam to her husband, Mitch. As they shook hands, Sunny said, “He’s Alyssa’s suitor.”

Adam asked, “Is that, like...a tailor, or something?” Sunny and Mitchell laughed, but did not respond. He still had no idea what “suitor” meant.

Mitch told Sunny to let him know anytime she wanted a break. He put an arm around her waist, kissed her. Squeezed her ass and sneaked a quick finger between her legs, then disappeared behind the grim John and Yoko.

Adam and Sunny chatted for a while about books, found they both liked Carlos Castaneda and Sidney Sheldon.

“But sometimes Sheldon gets a little too metaphysical for me,” Adam said.

Sunny laughed and slapped the counter again. “Would you like a cookie? I made them just this morning.” From beneath the countertop, Sunny produced a plate piled with large chocolate-chip cookies.

Adam took one of the cookies and bit into it. It was delicious, but the bits of marijuana in his mouth surprised him. Made sense, though. Sunny and Mitch were hippy types, so there was nothing odd about marijuana in their cookies. But Sunny was more casual about it than most. She knew nothing about him, and yet she had given him a loaded cookie.

Then again, maybe it was a test. Perhaps Sunny was seeing what he was made of, how he would react. Don’t most parents care about who their kids are with, where they go? Adam wondered. That’s the theory, anyway. So maybe this is Sunny’s way of finding out. It was a little elaborate, but not out of the question. He stopped chewing.

“I’m sorry!” Sonny slapped a hand to her forehead and screwed up her face. “Those have pot in them, don’t they?”

He nodded.

“I forgot about that. Is it a problem?”

“The cookie’s delicious, but—” He shrugged. “—it’s a little early for me, and I’m going to be driving. The cookie’s great, I just don’t feel comfortable, um...taking it with me, in case...well, you know, in case I get pulled over for something and the cop...you know, asks to see...my cookies.”

Sunny laughed as she took the cookie from him, put it with the others. Put the plate somewhere behind John and Yoko. “That was my fault. I’ve got to quit doing that or we’ll all end up behind bars.”