L A Woman Page 10

  Then I saw Jett Sunday.

  I pushed Hondo and Marcus behind a rack of periodicals. “She’s here,” I said.

  We peeked around the corner, but made Marcus stay out of sight with the camera. Jett wore sunglasses and a baseball cap with her now-changed-to-dirty-blonde hair pulled through the back in a very short ponytail. A windbreaker over a Rolling Stones T-shirt and baggy, faded army surplus pants completed her cover, and it was good. If I hadn’t seen her in person before, I would not have recognized her.

  Jett walked into the center of the station and took her time, looking around at everyone and everything but being casual about it, like she was waiting for someone.

  After a good five minutes she worked her way toward the lockers, stopping to sit and read a discarded paper for several minutes, then moving again to a candy dispenser, and finally to the lockers.

  The locker we watched was number 42, centered on the top row. Jett stopped in front of it and raised a key. Two men came off a bench and walked toward her.

  I started out toward them but Hondo pulled me back just as Jett moved to the next locker, 43 and put in the key.

  The two men stopped, looked at each other and went back to the bench.

  “She…is good,” I said. Hondo nodded.

  While their backs were turned, Jett stepped in front of 42 again, and that’s when a third man pushed off the wall and hurried toward her.

  Jett caught him out of the corner of her eye and moved away in a quick walk toward the women’s bathroom. The man closed ground and the other two weren’t far behind.

  “I’ll get her out the door,” I said. Hondo nodded and pulled Marcus with him.

  “Wait, aren’t we going to help?” Marcus asked.

  “Ronny’s getting her to us so we can drive her out of here.”

  Marcus stopped and looked back, “But what about Ronny?” Hondo pulled the back of his collar so hard that Marcus high-stepped in reverse to keep my partner from dragging him across the floor. I hurried after Jett and the three men.

  They were already inside the women’s restroom when I pushed through the door. Jett was against the back wall, with the first man in front of her and the other two just inside the door. Everyone turned as I entered.

  “Whoo-ee, I can barely hold it,” I said and grinned as I approached the two men.

  “Get out of here,” The blond one said and stepped in front of me.

  “I gotta whizz like a racehorse, pal.” I looked over his shoulder, “Hey, what’s a girl doing in here?”

  Blondie said, “It is the women’s restroom.”

  “Then what are you doing in here?”

  The second guy, the bald one, said, “Get out of here or we’re going to kick your ass.”

  “Jeeze, okay.” I turned toward the door, took one step, and as their guard dropped, I picked up a metal trashcan and swung it into the blond man’s head, knocking him into a stall.

  The bald guy’s mouth was open when I hit him with a spinning backfist that connected on his temple and dropped him quivering to the ground as if he’d been electrocuted.

  The man in front of Jett turned with a pistol in his hand and that’s when she kicked the back of his knee and sent him crumpling to the floor.

  She jumped over him like a deer, giving him a quick knee in the neck as she passed.

  “Go outside to Hondo!” I yelled and pointed at the door. She flew through it and I waited to give her time. The three men were staggering to their feet as I went out the door.

  I made twenty feet before they banged open the restroom door and came after me, focused as wolves on a hunt.

  I threw a gumball machine in their path and I overturned a dolly with a dozen suitcases on it to slow them. They ran hard, shoving people down as others gasped and ducked out of their way. I looked through the bus station’s glass doors as Hondo skidded to a stop. Jett dove into the back seat of the convertible and Hondo burned rubber getting out of there.

  That was when the light behind me dimmed like an eclipse and I heard a loud, rumbling voice roar, “Stop!”

  I glanced over my shoulder. Magilla was coming at a run, and there was a killing look on his face. He was terrifying.

  CHAPTER 12

  “Stop!” Magilla yelled again and his voice seemed to vibrate the glass in the windows. He came fast and ominous, like a runaway truck.

  The three men struggled over the roadblock of suitcases and gumball machines and picked up speed.

  The aisle I ran down was narrow, with rows of those co-joined bus station chairs lining both sides. I stopped at an empty row of twelve bolted-together chairs and jerked on it, hoping it wasn’t attached to the floor. It was heavy but it moved and I pulled it across the aisle and turned it over so it blocked the path, then pulled the next two rows across as well.

  It only took seconds but it bought me some time as the three men stopped. Then I almost wet my pants when I saw them raise their pistols.

  Magilla leaped over the pile of suitcases like an Olympic hurdler and reached the others as if they were moving in slow motion. He yelled again even louder, “Stop!”

  I ran in a zigzag toward the front doors and glanced back as Magilla exploded into the three men and sent them and their pistols flying across the floor.

  Magilla grabbed the first row of chairs blocking his way and threw them about twenty feet, where they crashed on top of other chairs. People screamed and ran in all directions, and I had a mental image of a Godzilla movie and the Tokyo people scrambling away from the monster.

  I reached the doors and glanced back as Magilla threw the second row of chairs on top of the first and then I was outside and sprinting for the corner.

  I heard Magilla’s voice rumble from within the station, “Stooooooopppp!”

  Running all out, I made the corner, sprinted toward the parked busses, and snaked through them for cover as I made a right angle and crossed to the next block and kept running. I had to dodge two surfer types and the redheaded one said, “Dude, there’s busses behind you that’ll take you faster.”

  I said, “Its cardio!”

  He yelled at my back as I ran past, “You should try surfing, Brah! Better cardio, less stressful on the joints!”

  I sprinted all out and made another right turn around the second block and that’s when Hondo drove along beside me.

  Marcus filmed me and said, “Keep running Ronny, just a little further. You’re looking good. Now lengthen your stride.”

  I came off the sidewalk toward the car but Hondo pulled away. “What are you doing?” I said.

  Hondo asked Marcus, “You got it?”

  Marcus said, “Uh-huh. Come on, Ronny.”

  I made it to the car and fell in the front passenger’s seat while it was still moving. I gasped and huffed like a man with lungs the size of two gnats. My legs quivered and I wiped sweat from my face.

  “Magilla’s coming,” I said.

  Hondo snapped his head up to check the mirror as he floored the gas pedal. “We don’t need that,” He said.

  I said, “No kidding. The guy’s like The Terminator.” We made another corner and I glanced back to make sure Magilla wasn’t coming, then blew out a big breath and asked, “Marcus, you get my good side?”

  “Center frame,” Marcus said.

  A woman’s hand came over the backrest and touched my face. “Glad you’re okay,” I said. Jett stayed low, in the back floor to keep out of sight.

  “You keep saving me, you and Hondo,” she said. Her voice was husky, exotic, and reminded me of Demi Moore’s voice when she was young.

  “Its good exercise, helps keep us sharp,” I said, then asked, “You still have the key?”

  “No, I flushed it. I didn’t want them to have it.”

  I said, “We’ll work something out. I’m good at making plans.”

  Hondo snorted, but continued to drive smooth but fast, gliding around slower cars and timing turns so that the cars behind were caught at the reds.

&n
bsp; “See anyone?” I asked him.

  Hondo glanced at the rear view mirror, “Nope.”

  “Good. So where to?”

  “I don’t know. Any ideas?”

  “I hear Alaska’s nice this time of year.”

  “I was thinking of someplace a little closer.”

  Marcus leaned forward and said, “We can use my place.”

  Hondo said, “Apartment?”

  “No.”

  I said, “Not a condo?”

  “Uh-uh. It’s my house. In Burbank. Three bedrooms, privacy fence in back, good neighborhood on a cul de sac.”

  I asked, “You have a pool?”

  “No.”

  “Hot tub?”

  “No, Ronny.”

  “Butler?”

  “Ha-ha.”

  Hondo said, “That sounds good. Thanks, Marcus.” Marcus told him the directions.

  **

  An hour later, Hondo stopped the car in the driveway and Marcus and I got out, then Marcus said, “I’ll go inside and hit the garage door opener so you can pull it inside.”

  I walked with him and looked over the house as we approached the front door. The house was brick, and we followed a curving brick walkway through the small front yard that showed recent evidence of landscaping. A new, fresh-turned area of dirt was along the front wall below a large picture window. Evenly spaced hedge was planted in it with each plant about three feet from the others. A small border of mondo grass separated the zoysia grass from the bed.

  “Very nice, Marcus. Not exactly what I was expecting, but nice.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  “Oh, maybe something more, ah…black.”

  Marcus put the key in the door and opened it. “More black. Like Snoop, or Fit-ty, maybe Timbaland, Wyclef Jean.”

  “Well yeah, like them, but on a much smaller scale. You know, the salary diff and all.”

  “Of course.” Marcus led the way inside and left me in the living room as he went into the kitchen and to the garage. Music was playing throughout the house in low but audible tones. Good sound system, good music. I heard a door open, then the garage doors rising, then Marcus returned to the living room.

  The living room was immaculate, with plush leather chairs, sofas, throw rugs, and a modest sized flat-screen TV in the corner. The nice picture window looked out on the front yard and street and you could see the tops of the manicured hedge just under the window. I went over and pulled the curtains together. A tiny blade of sunlight still came through, but it was at the top third of the window so I knew nobody could see inside.

  I looked at everything again and said, “Were you raised by white people from Vermont, Joel and Etta Gunderson, something like that?”

  “Har-har.”

  Hondo and Jett came in and Marcus said, “Make yourselves at home. Ronny, come with me.” I followed Marcus down the hallway to the master bedroom.

  “Yay, I get to sleep in the master bedroom!”

  “You don’t quit, do you? I wanted to show you this. Figured you’d get a kick out of it.” He opened the door. As soon as we entered, I started grinning.

  The bed was big, circular and covered by one of those fake leopard-skin bedspreads. A disco ball was over the bed, and framed movie posters lined the walls. A flat-screen TV that must have had an eighty-inch screen was centered on the wall across from the bed.

  And the posters! They were all of those great seventies black films: Shaft, Blacula, Super Fly, Black Belt Jones, Slaughter, and all their sequels. They were professionally framed and in excellent condition.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” I said and gave him a low five. “When I discovered Super Fly in high school, I almost wore out the DVD.”

  Marcus said, “Uh-huh, and I bet the most worn part was the bubble bath scene.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Hondo’s voice came down the hall. “You two coming back up here or are you in bed spooning?”

  We walked to the living room and I said, “You’ve got to see Marcus’ bedroom. Stay in there a couple hours and you’ll want to grow an afro and say ‘Mofo’.”

  Marcus laughed, then said, “I was going to cook up some stir-fry tonight, that okay with everybody?”

  “Aww, man…” I said.

  “What did you want?” Marcus asked.

  “I was hoping for some Chinese food.”

  Marcus grinned, “You ass.” He went into the kitchen and I took a seat in the armchair. Hunter and Jett sat on the sofa, close together. Jett leaned slightly toward Hondo, like he was a magnet and she couldn’t resist the pull. I could tell she wasn’t aware of doing it, but it was there. Major attraction going on.

  Hondo said, “I’m a little tired of them hunting us.”

  U2’s song Vertigo came over the speakers and I moved my head and shoulders with the beat as I felt the old electricity go through me. “About time to Rock and Roll,” I said.

  **

  After eating that evening, we sat in the living room and discussed plans. “I think we should nuke them,” I said.

  “Might be too much collateral damage,” Hondo said.

  Marcus said, “I’m just the cameraman, but I’ll do what I can. Just don’t get me shot.”

  “If we do, can I have your posters?”

  Jett said, “We have to find out what’s in that locker, find out what my Dad hid from them.”

  “They want it bad, that’s for sure,” Marcus said.

  “I’ve got a plan,” I said. They all looked at me.

  After a few long seconds, Hondo said to Jett, “He wants someone to ask him.” A little smirk formed on her lips. I immediately fell heavily into like with Jett Sunday.

  “Ronny, what’s your plan,” Jett said.

  “I’m so very glad you asked.” I looked at Hondo. ”Remember how, over the years, you’ve developed a certain skill with locked doors, boxes, and such?”

  Hondo said, “Yep. I see where you’re going.”

  I held up my hand in a Stop motion. “Not so fast, I’m telling where I’m going”

  “What in the heck are you two talking about?” Marcus asked.

  “Hondo is very good with picks.”

  “Like lock picks?” Marcus asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Marcus said, “You think people, especially bad people, in a crowded bus station won’t see you if you pick that lock?”

  “Marcus, think positive, bring happy thoughts,” I said. “Be more like Black Belt Jones…well, if Belt didn’t know karate and was a cameraman.”

  “And was smaller,” Hondo added.

  “Yeah, like that,” I said.

  Marcus sighed and settled back in the leather. “Go ahead.”

  I said, “We’ll let you talk to Emma about setting up a camera crew in the bus station, with all the cables and lights and mirrors and stuff.”

  Marcus sat up, “I get it! In front of the locker.”

  “Very good, young Padewan,” I said.

  Marcus stood up, “That’ll be great, especially since I didn’t get any good footage today.”

  “Hey,” I said, “You got me covering ground like a cheetah. That should pump up the ratings.”

  Marcus coughed, then said, “I better get going.”

  After he left I said, “I’ll sleep in here.”

  “It’s okay,” Hondo said, “I’ll be fine here.”

  “All right. Tomorrow we look in the locker, and then we do a little offense on them.”

  “We’ll see how they like playing defense for a while,” Hondo said.

  “Amen, Brotha.”

  CHAPTER 13

  That night about three AM, I woke up thirsty. I walked down the dim hall toward the kitchen and as I turned the corner beside the dark granite island, I glanced into the living room and stopped, still in shadow.

  Hondo and Jett sat very close together on the sofa. Hondo leaned against one armrest and had his hand resting on the Kimber .45 on the end table. Jett sat next to
him, her face turned so she could see his profile. Her stare was intent and even from here, I could see her longing. I stayed quiet so as not to intrude.

  Jett leaned to Hondo and kissed his cheek, then rested her head on his shoulder. Hondo put his arm around her and held her, as gentle as I have ever seen him do anything, except for holding a dying friend during a bad time in our past. Hondo kissed the top of her head and let his cheek rest there.

  I backed from the kitchen on silent feet and returned to my bed. I had never seen Hondo like that with a woman in all the years I’d known him. I thought about them until I finally drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning I was up in the pre-dawn light. Everyone else was still asleep. I slipped on my clothes, then tiptoed through the house and went out the side garage door so as not to disturb Hondo and Jett, asleep on the couch. Hondo’s hand was still on the Kimber.

  It was one of those good mornings with a cloudless sky and no hint of smog. The sun was a rind of color on the eastern horizon and I faced it, feeling its subtle warmth.

  I walked along the path to the front porch and looked up and down the street. Nothing out of the ordinary. I turned and started back to the garage, and that’s when I saw them. Goosebumps popped up on my skin.

  Huge footprints, sunk deep in the landscaping soil below the picture window. Shadows pooling in the depressions made them all the more ominous. I looked closer. The prints were enormous. Maybe a size sixteen, eighteen sneaker, and at least three inches deep in the sandy loam. I stepped beside it. My imprint was an inch deep.

  I looked at the glass on the picture window and noticed that as I moved my head to angle the light, there were small smears high up on the glass, maybe seven feet or so off the ground. They were near the small parting of the interior curtains.

  I felt cold sweat break out on my face. Magilla Sykes stood right here, spying on us.

  No, not on all of us, but on Hondo…and Jett, in the living room. I checked the neighborhood again, looking for any sign of the giant but I saw nothing. I turned back to study the window.

  The smears were subtle and I had to make sure I held my head to the side so the light’s angle revealed them. Two smears to the left of the curtain opening were his forehead and the tip of his nose. Another smear on the right side showed his enormous palm and fingers as if he was balancing against the glass.