Finding Home (5 page)

“Not too far. We can walk. Come on.” Donna tugged at her arm. Megan reluctantly followed, wishing she’d brought her cell phone so she could call for help if this was some kind of bizarre set up. But these kids knew she didn’t have money and she had to trust Donna wouldn’t hurt her.

“Where’s Crystal?” she asked as they walked down the street. Crystal was Donna’s friend, who also worked Sunset. She was a third generation hooker, following both her mother and grandmother into the life without thought or question. Somehow that had shocked Megan almost more than anything she’d heard.

“She went off with Mouth earlier this evening and I haven’t seen her since, so I suppose they’re somewhere fucking.”

Megan felt a jolt of shock at the words and quickly suppressed any expression on her face. “Oh.”

But Donna was sharper than Megan gave her credit for. She looked up with a sly smile. “Why? You got a thing for him?”

“No. Of course not!”
“It’s okay if you do. Everyone does, both the girls and boys. He is seriously hot. I bet he’d go for you, too. You’re really cute. I wish my hair was curly like that.”

Megan didn’t answer.

Donna changed the topic, prattling on about regular fifteen-year-old girl stuff, hair, makeup, fashion, crushes and who she had a grudge against and why. According to her, their little family group was a hotbed of drama with someone always pissed off at someone else about possessions, drugs, living space or sex partners.

“Through here.”

Megan followed the girl through a torn section of chain link fence in the back of a vacant lot and down a dark alley behind an abandoned hotel. Plywood had been torn from one of the boarded up windows. Donna boosted herself over the windowsill and when Megan hesitated, she said, “Come on. In here.”

Megan took a deep breath and climbed after her. Donna picked up a flashlight by the window and led the way through empty offices to the lobby and up the staircase to the second floor. The farther she went into the dark, suffocating building, the more Megan’s nerves told her this was a huge mistake. Anything could happen to her in this place and no one would ever know. No one had any idea where she was and she’d left her phone at home. What the hell had she been thinking?

“This is my room,” Donna said proudly, opening the door to one of the guest rooms. She preceded Megan inside, flicked on a battery-powered lamp, then lit candles scattered around the room. As it was illuminated, Megan saw that though it might be a homeless squat, it was also a girly girl’s room. Posters of hunky guys hung on the walls, a ripped, flowered comforter was pulled over a mattress on the floor in one corner of the room, dozens of stuffed animals lay on the bed. There were plastic milk crates stacked against one wall stuffed with clothes, and many shoes lay in a haphazard pile near them.

Donna evidently loved candles. By the time she’d lit several of them, the strong scents of vanilla, cinnamon and sandalwood were eradicating the stink of mildew and boarded-up hotel.

“You like this band?” she asked and, before Megan could answer, she turned on a boom box and cranked up the volume.

“You must go through a lot of batteries.”
“Yeah. It sucks not having electric, but not near as much as not having water. We have to go to convenience store restrooms or the ones at the bus station to wash up. But you can’t go anywhere too often or people start to notice. You got to change your routine, you know?” Donna flopped on her bed and struck a sultry, pinup girl pose. “Go ahead. Take my picture.”

Megan pulled out her camera. “I thought you guys didn’t want any of your faces photographed?”

“Aw, Ricky’s paranoid.”

After taking several shots of Donna and her room, Megan asked if she could see some of the others’ rooms. When Donna hesitated and began making excuses, she finally realized what was up. “Ricky didn’t agree to let you bring me here, did he?”

“Well, what he don’t know won’t hurt him,” Donna said. “Besides he’s not the boss of me. He goes around like he owns the place and Elf and Penny are his little flunkies. The rest of us are sick of putting up with that crap. If I want to bring somebody here, I have a right. It’s a free, fucking country.”

Megan was ready to get out of there. “Okay. I think I’ve got everything I need,” she said. “If you want to walk me back to the boulevard I’ll buy you a Coke.”

“You don’t have to go yet,” Donna said. “We could hang out for a while. I could do your nails and I think Crystal’s still got some weed hidden in her room.” She jumped up and retrieved a pink plastic makeup kit from one of the milk carton shelves and started rummaging through it.

The girl’s winsome desire to have a friend was touching, but Megan was a little afraid of how pissed off Ricky might be if he found her here. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I really have to go now.”

Donna pouted but put down the kit, turned off the music and the lamp. She extinguished her candles. As the feeble lights went out and they were left in the gloomy, preternatural stillness of the empty hotel, Megan wondered how anyone could bear to be here alone. It felt so haunted and eerie.

She followed Donna’s bobbing flashlight back downstairs to the window. Her heart didn’t slow until they stood back outside in the weed-choked lot. She vowed she’d never stray from the boulevard again.

Back at the usual diner, Megan bought the promised soda and listened to more of Donna’s ceaseless prattle. It appeared the girl was going to stick with her all evening as they walked along the sidewalk together.

“Do you think I should get my nipples pierced? Some guys think it’s really hot, but then I heard about this one girl who pissed off a john and he ripped her hoop right out. Yeow! I don’t want anything like that to happen.”

“Probably it’s best if you don’t,” Megan said. “Maybe you should think of saving some of your money.”

Donna laughed. “Yeah, right. I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Megan made an effort to smile, but Donna’s persistence was really beginning to grate. “I’m going home now so I’ll talk to you later, all right?”

“Oh. Okay,” Donna said. “Yeah, I suppose I better get my ass somewhere I can make some cash and quit hanging around here.” She threw her arms around Megan and hugged her. “Thanks for coming over. You gotta come some time and stay longer.”

“Maybe.” Megan’s eyes burned as she hugged the plump girl then watched her walk away. When Donna had crossed the street and disappeared around a corner, Megan turned to head toward her car.

There, strolling toward her down the sidewalk was Mouth. He looked like a model for a men’s cologne ad, wearing a beat up jacket as a concession to the slight chill in the air but with no shirt underneath. As in…no shirt.

For a second, Megan froze, riveted by the sight of hard chest, dusky nipples, flat stomach and a trail of fine hair leading down from his navel to the top of his jeans. She swallowed. “Hey.”

“Hi.” He offered her the bottle he was carrying.

Megan sipped the lukewarm beer, conscious that her mouth was touching his saliva on the lip of the bottle. She wondered if he was coming back from his hook up with Crystal and whether they’d really fucked or if it was one of Donna’s invented dramas. She handed the bottle back to him.

He took it and downed the rest, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand afterward. “What are you up to tonight? More photos?”

“Yeah. Donna…” Megan hesitated, unsure of whether she wanted to tell him about her evening.

Her hesitation tipped him off. “What?”
“She invited me home with her and I got some pictures there.” “Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Ricky know about it?”
“Not exactly. She said he did, but after we got there she admitted he didn’t. I just took a couple of shots of her room and left.”

“And this seemed like a good idea to you? Going to an abandoned building with a crack whore?”

“Come on. Donna’s just a kid, a lonely little girl who wanted a friend to visit tonight.”

“No. Donna’s a desperate junky who’d kill you for enough cash for her next fix.”

“She knew I didn’t have any money on me except the ten I gave her.” He shook his head and blew out a breath as if unable to bear her stupidity. “You’ve gotta quit trusting these kids. It doesn’t matter how innocent they look. If they think you’ve got money or can get money, they’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

“You’re being overdramatic.”
“Do you even read your own paper? Muggings, stabbings, rape and murder; this is fucking L.A., not Mayberry or wherever the hell it is you came from.”

Megan bit her lip in annoyance. He sounded just like James had the other day. “All right. I don’t need a lecture from you.”

“Good, cause I’m not giving you one.” He tossed the empty bottle into a nearby trashcan. “So, you must be about done with your article.” His voice was calm again

“Yeah, pretty much.” She realized she was really going to miss Mouth, miss talking to him, not just gawking at his body. He was right. She had enough interviews and facts to finish the story. She knew the names of all the local and state agencies, outreach programs, church groups, drop-in centers and shelters set up to aid these children. Help was there if only the kids would come. But she knew from talking to them how wary of authority figures they were, and often with good reason. She’d heard stories of abuse in foster care or group homes. And many, like Donna or Ricky, would rather be on their own so their drug use could continue unimpeded.

It wasn’t as clear-cut as “need help, get help”. Ricky had told her flat out he loved living free and couldn’t stand to obey some adult’s orders. She imagined him chafing under a regimen of school and home life with balanced meals and bedtimes. Meanwhile, kids like Elf and Donna, who seemed starved for love, might find a niche in the foster care system, but only if they were placed in the right home where they could learn to trust again.

Mouth was almost eighteen and would be spit right back out of the system as soon as he reached that magic age. He clearly wanted to be in charge of his own destiny, but Megan wondered if he could make it with no support system.

She thought of her own family and how protected and safe she’d always been, both financially and emotionally. What would it be like to be an orphan with literally no one to give a damn if you lived or died? For the first time, the depth of that loneliness hit Megan forcibly, leaving her feeling bleak and depressed.

“You’re quiet tonight? No more questions?” Mouth led her toward a bench and dropped down on it.

She sat beside him. “I guess not. It was kind of a strange night. Plus there’s some stuff going on at work.” It wasn’t true, but she could hardly tell him she’d been thinking about him.

“Tell me about it.” He stretched his arms along the back of the bench. Megan wondered if he was making some kind of move on her or simply getting comfortable.

When he spread his arms, his jacket opened farther and more of his buff, naked torso was revealed to her surreptitious glance.

“It’s nothing really. Office politics,” she lied, then quickly changed the subject. “Why don’t you live with the others? Ricky told me it’s safer to have a buddy. Why do you stay alone?”

“I like it that way. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone and I don’t want anyone knowing where my stuff is.”

Megan nodded. A cool breeze cut through her thin shirt and she shivered.

“Cold?”
“A little.”
“Here.” He started to take off his jacket.

Megan held out a hand to stop him. “No. Then you’ll be cold.”
“Naw. I’m good.” He already had it off and handed it to her.

Megan had no choice but to wrap it around her shoulders. She felt like a girl on a date and it was really weird. She could smell Mouth all over the jacket, cigarettes and sweat and a heady, indefinable male musk. “Thanks,” she said weakly.

As they talked, Megan couldn’t help checking out his muscled shoulders and arms resting on the back of the bench. His chest and stomach were chiseled perfection. She even got a glimpse of his naked back when he turned to look at something up the street. She knew gaping at his body was skeevy, but couldn’t tear her eyes away whenever she thought he wasn’t looking.

They sat and chatted for another half-hour. Eventually, Mouth stood up. “I should really make an effort to get in a couple of tricks before the evening is over,” he said, yawning.

Megan slipped the jacket off her shoulders. “Thanks for this,” she said, handing it over to him.

“Give it back to me next time.”
“But…”
“Honestly, I don’t need it. You do. And shirtless is always good for business.”

That Megan could believe. She tried not to stare at him as he strolled off toward the boulevard. Secretly she was glad of an excuse to come see him again.

Besides, she told herself, she needed more photos.

By the next week, as the weatherman had promised, the temperature soared again. It was almost October, but felt like August. Megan parked in her usual spot, the parking lot a block away, and walked to the boulevard. The day’s heat had settled over the city in a stifling embrace, and sweat trickled between her shoulder blades. The street stank of hot asphalt, piss and sweat, and her stomach churned at the thought of any one of the kids down on his knees in a stinking alleyway, servicing the passing trade.

None of her regular crew was around and Mouth was nowhere to be seen. His absence made her realize how much she’d come to depend on him when she came here, on his presence, even if he was in mid-transaction or hustling on his corner or smoking silently under the same awning where she’d first seen him. There was no reason for Megan to be here tonight. She’d returned his jacket a few days ago and, after snapping more photos of the boys, had said her goodbyes and gone home convinced it was her last visit.

Still, here she was again. James was right, she was getting too deeply involved. It was time to pull back.

Then Mouth turned up and Megan’s resolution drained away at the sight of him loping casually along the street, bare-chested, his shirt slung over his shoulder and the same faded jeans riding low on his hips broadcasting sexual availability.

“Want a drink? I’m getting a Coke,” she called when he was close enough.