Lara Reznik - The Girl From Long Guyland (14 page)

“That’s convenient.”

“I’ve got no reason to lie to you.” Chris says. “The next thing I remember was waking up on the linoleum floor. People were yelling and banging shit up in the attic. The voices grew goddamn deafening so I ran upstairs to see what was going on. Denise and Ben were buck-naked in my bed. Joey was yelling, ‘You’re screwing my girl.’ He kicked Ben in the chest.”

Chris pours us each another shot of tequila, downs his shot, and says, “Denise screamed for Joey to calm down, but he got Ben in a headlock and started choking him.”

I feel nauseated as the story unfolds. Is Chris lying?

“I tried to pull him off of Ben,” Chris says, “but the big guy was too strong. Ben’s eyes were popping outta his head like ping pong balls, and he was gasping for breath. Finally, I peeled Joey’s hands off of Ben’s neck and told him to chill out. For a minute he seemed okay. I offered my hand to help him stand up. Then, he turned around and punched me in the face, knocking me back against the wall by the window. I saw stars and my lip was bleeding. When I looked up, Joey had a broken beer bottle in his hand and was running toward Ben. Next thing I knew, Ben pushed him out the window.” Chris’s whole face and neck are dripping with sweat. He grabs a napkin from the table and uses it to dry himself.

My hands are shaking so badly I knock a glass of water off the table. Ice cubes scatter everywhere. I sputter, “You’re saying Ben killed him?”

“Look at me, Laila.”

I gaze into bloodshot-blue eyes that seem sincere. But what do I know? He and Ben have played me for years.

“He fucking pushed him out the window.” Tears stream down his swollen face.

“In self-defense?”

“I guess. But you see, Laila, if the
FBI
opens up the case I’m afraid Ben’s gonna say
I
did it.”

“Why would he do that?”

“You don’t think he wants to rot in prison?”

I have no idea what to believe.
I glare at him. “Why did Denise specifically say to ask
you
what happened to Joey in her suicide note?”

“I’m the only one besides her and Ben who knows the truth. She knew Ben sure as hell wasn’t gonna implicate himself.”

His logic makes sense. But there’s something else I recall Mrs. Manelo telling me when we were in Denise’s bedroom. “Did you know Denise lived in Tucson in the seventies?”

“Shit yeah.” He half-smiles. “She was living with me and Ben.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Easy Rider

Taos, New Mexico, 1970

The guy in the passenger seat of the Mercedes ordered Joey and me to get into the back seat of the car. He had a bushy mustache streaked with grey and a sparkling diamond stud in his ear. He brushed my cheek with his finger and said, “I’m Angel,” then poked the driver’s arm. “Get a move on.” I caught the driver winking at me in the rearview mirror and realized it was Rojo.

“You got it, boss.” Rojo said, and stepped on the gas pedal.

I clung to the plush leather seat as Rojo sped the car down the icy roads. Angel turned up the volume of the radio and sang along to Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit” in an off-key raspy voice. When the song ended, he leered at me through rimless spectacles. “So, what’s a nice girl from Long Guyland doing with a couple of assholes like Ben and Chris?”

Did he know I’d been with both of them? Did everyone know?
“I-I guess I’m not as nice as you might think.”

Angel laughed. He had perfect white-chicklet teeth and a sexy smile. “You’re cute, honey, even if you have little boobies.”

My jaw dropped. I peeked down at my chest. No way could he see the size of my breasts through the peacoat. Ben must have had a little chat with him about me.
She’s a small-titted girl from Long Island, but she’s slept with both me and Chris. Ha, ha, ha.

Joey cleared his throat. “Laila’s a classy chick. Too good for those dudes, if you ask me.”

Angel whacked Joey’s head with his hand. Not hard, but enough to show he called the shots. “No one asked you, fuck-face. Let her speak for herself.”

“Chris and Ben are totally far out,” I said.

“You think?” Angel said.

I swallowed. “Why else would you do business with them?”

The car fell silent for a tense moment. “Good question, sweetheart. Which one of those two knuckleheads is your ol’ man anyway?” Angel asked.

So he didn’t know. Or maybe this was a test. “Ah, Chris.”

“I would have thought Ben more your type. Is that big-titted chick, what’s her name, still there?”

“Ivy?”

“That’s the one. They sent her out to Berkeley last year. She worked us pretty good.”

I recalled Ivy saying she’d been pressured to sleep with some dude she didn’t like. Angel? No, a guy named Paulie.

Angel lit a cigarette and blew out smoke. “I’m gonna take you to a party like you’ve never seen, baby. Then tomorrow morning Rojo will drive you back to the airport.” He punched Rojo’s arm. “You’ll need to leave town by 6:00 a.m. No partying for you, man. Stay sober, ya hear?”

“Yes, boss,” Rojo said. He sounded so subservient. Was that how people acted with Angel?

Angel twisted back around to me. “All you gotta do is check the suitcase in at the counter and get on the plane. It’s already in the trunk of this car. Can you handle that?”

“You can count on me, sir.”

“Good girl.” He cupped my chin. “You are a cute one. Dennis will like you.”

I didn’t dare ask who Dennis was, as Rojo veered the Mercedes up to a stylish southwestern villa.

We parked amongst
BMW
s, Porsches, and Cadillacs in the circular drive. When I opened the car door, a gush of snowflakes stung my face and covered my hair. We all dashed out to the front door where a group of people stood in line as though waiting to get into a groovy club. A beefy guy in a muscle shirt sat on a stool at the door. The bitter cold didn’t seem to bother him as he let two chicks dressed in fur coats inside, and turned away a couple of hippie guys in Army-Navy surplus jackets.

Rojo, Joey, and I headed to the back of the line but Angel told us to follow him to the front. He whispered something in the bouncer’s ear, a monster-sized guy who waved his arm at us to go on inside.

“Catch you later, Paulie,” Angel said, and followed us into the enormous entryway of the house.

Oh my God, Paulie. Would I be forced to sleep with him, too? I reminded myself to stay cool like the characters in
On the Road.
I needed to talk to Joey. He would know the score. I looked around the crowded room for him. I’d assumed he’d followed us inside, but now I wasn’t so sure.

Angel suddenly appeared and removed his rimless spectacles. He had sensual grey eyes that seemed out of focus. “I hope you appreciate this experience, honey.”

Did he expect me to prostitute myself like Ivy? “Yes, sir, I’m sure I will.”

Angel blinked. “You don’t have to call me sir.”

Music blared from the stereo as we entered the grand living room with its flagstone floors and twenty-foot-high wood ceilings. Red chili peppers hung on the wall next to paintings of Indian women and their babies. A roaring fire blazed from the floor-to-ceiling fireplace, and people stood around with drinks and small plates of chips and avocado dip someone called guacamole. The pungent smell of marijuana filled the house.

A gangly dude with long white hair tapped Angel on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. Angel winked at me and punched Rojo’s arm. “Keep an eye on her. And remember what I said about getting shit-faced.” Angel disappeared in the crowd, leaving Rojo and me together. I stood gawking at the strange people who more or less ignored us. Most of the women looked like models or actresses, rail thin, dressed in tight jeans or obscenely short mini-skirts. The men varied from standard hippie types, bearded, beaded, long hair tucked behind their ears, to Hollywood producer types dressed in three-piece suits and shiny loafers.

A few people sat on a plush velvet sofa snorting white powder on a glass tray through straws. I’d heard cocaine had become the rage on the west coast but had never seen any before.

Rojo joined the partiers on the couch and I watched from a distance as he did some. Then he returned and babbled on about his life. He confided that he really didn’t think Peaches’ baby was his, but he’d always wonder about it. He said he wished he’d never gotten involved in this business. He had dreams of becoming an architect. “Angel don’t like people to leave. There could be dire consequences.”

“No shit.”

“Forget I just said that.” He made me swear on the life of my future children that I wouldn’t repeat anything he’d just told me.

I told him he could trust me.

“I don’t get to meet a lot of chicks like you. Are you in love with Chris?”

I bristled at the question. “I, ah, don’t know.”

“Joey’s right. You’re too classy for that schmuck.”

I laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He rippled his eyebrows. “You think maybe you and me…?”

I thought about Chris and Ben and Peaches. “Ya know, I just don’t need any more complications in my life right now.”

He placed a kiss on my forehead. “No problem. I don’t get rejected too often, but when I do, I take it like a man. Can I ask you a favor though?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t tell Angel I did those lines of toot, okay?”

“What toot?” I said.

He winked at me, then motored back across the room and struck up a conversation with a blonde decked out in turquoise and silver jewelry.

I snaked through the crowds in search of Joey. After circling through most of the downstairs, I went to the front door and found the bouncer Paulie still sitting on a stool at his post, bottle of tequila in hand. I described Joey and asked if he’d seen him.

He shrugged. “Can’t say I paid much attention.”

I searched the sea of beautiful people but had no luck locating him. A few guys did finally pay attention to me. One asked if I wanted to dance, another suggested we have sex, while a third guy offered me toot. I refused all offers.

I noticed a stairway and decided to see if Joey had gone upstairs. A man with a dark goatee and shiny black hair appeared from one of the bedrooms with bloodshot eyes and a Hollywood beauty on each arm. He looked familiar.

Some guy with a cigarette hanging from his mouth pointed at the guy with the two gorgeous girls. “Do you know who that is?”

“Is he from Bridgeport?”

“Bridgeport? That’s Dennis Hopper, honey.”

Of course. Angel had said we were going to Dennis’s house. I never dreamed he meant the movie star from
Easy Rider.

Dennis smiled at me and rushed down the stairs with the two gorgeous women.

I trailed behind them and stood in the entry as the new toast of Hollywood whispered something to the bouncer and then yelled, “Party hardy, my friends. See you in a few days.” A limousine waited outside and whisked Dennis and his two beauties away.

Back in the dining area, young men in white jackets carried platters of meat, cheeses, breads, fruits, and pastries. I grabbed a slice of turkey and a piece of cantaloupe and returned to the living room where the party continued.

Still no sign of Joey. Or Angel and Rojo for that matter. A crowd formed around a baby grand piano that backed to a big picture window. They all were staring at something outside. From where I stood, it looked like a snowman. He even had a pipe in his mouth. A hash pipe. People were laughing.

As I moved closer to the window, I realized the snowman was a person. I glared for a minute. My God, it was Joey! His hair and thick ski parka were covered with snow. He put his face on the window and held his arms up against the pane. His eyes were glassy. I feared between the combination of the bitter cold and the painkillers Jaws had given him, he was in shock.

Everyone was laughing and pointing at the human snowman. Didn’t they realize a guy was freezing to death? Were they too stoned to care? I grabbed a coat by the door, smiled at Paulie the bouncer, and raced outside.

When I reached Joey still pressed against the window, I yelled, “Are you okay?” but he didn’t respond. “Joey, it’s Laila.” I placed his freezing hand in mine. He stood very still for a few moments before acknowledging me. His lips were blue. His ears and nose cherry-red. Most scary were his bare toes on the foot wrapped in the ace bandage. They had turned the color of ashes.

Finally, he looked up and said, “Go back inside, Laila. It’s cold out here.”

“Come with me,” I said.

“They won’t let me in.”

“We’ll see about that.” We returned to the front door where I smiled again at Paulie as I held Joey’s hand. When Joey followed me inside, Paulie said, “No can do.”

After ten minutes of arguing with him, we came to a compromise. Joey could sit down on a wood bench in the hall while I tried to find Angel.

“You got five minutes, and then I throw him back out,” Paulie sneered. “You need a special invitation to party in there.”

I steamed back in the house and raced up the stairs determined to find Angel before Joey froze to death. When I opened the door to a bedroom, I found an overweight man in a suit jerking off as he watched a naked couple having sex on a king-size waterbed. The woman, a pretty redhead sat up. Her face was streaked with black eyeliner. She spat at the voyeur. “Zip it up, Harry. I’ve had enough of your fucking fantasy.”

Who were these people? What rules did they play by? Were there any boundaries?

In the next bedroom, I found Rojo and the blonde I’d seen him with earlier, asleep on a bed. Her turquoise and silver jewelry was scattered all over the floor with their clothing. Should I wake Rojo up and ask for his help? Could I afford for him to say no?

I found his Levis and grabbed the keys to the Mercedes from the pocket, bolted back down the stairs to the front door where Joey sat rubbing his raw-red hands together. I nodded at the bouncer and helped Joey up and out to the Mercedes parked in the circular drive.

The car started right up and Joey shivered as the heat slowly sifted through the vents. “You’re coming back to Connecticut with me,” I said.

“No argument there. But
I
handle the suitcase,” he said.

I let out my breath. “We’ll figure that out.”

“There’s a slight problem,” Joey said. “Angel will kill you for stealing the Mercedes.”

“I’m not stealing, just borrowing it to get us to Albuquerque.”

“You’re crazy, Laila.”

“Wait here,” I said and dashed back to the house leaving Joey in the Mercedes with the motor running. I hoped to convince Angel to at least let me drive Joey home. He’d freeze to death if he stayed outside any longer.

The bouncer grabbed my arm as I reentered the door. “Where’s your friend?”

“Beats me,” I said. “Think he went home.”

He loosened his grip and I walked inside, smiling at anyone who looked my way. In the entry was an antique roll-top desk, which gave me an idea of how to handle Angel. I would leave him a note convincing him it was in
his
best interest that I drove myself down to the airport. The plan was risky, but I assumed by the time he read the note, I’d be on the plane to New York. I opened the top drawer of the desk where I found a box of white stationery and a Schaeffer pen. The pen leaked ink as I scribbled on the paper.

Angel,

It’s very late and I can’t find you or Rojo. With the continued storms, I’m fearful I’ll miss my plane tomorrow. Therefore, I’ve decided to drive the Mercedes to Albuquerque. I’ll leave the car in the airport parking lot. The keys will be left for you at the
TWA
counter. Don’t worry, I’m taking the suitcase with me to New York as planned. Hope you’re not too pissed off. Thanks for inviting me to this groovy party. I hope to return to The Land of Enchantment someday soon. Until then
 . . .