When Darkness Falls(57)
Once at LAX, Devon couldn’t imagine how he’d thought he was going to find her. He searched the shopping area and lounges, startling several slim dark-haired women who looked a little like Haley from behind. But he couldn’t enter the gate areas without a ticket, and still he got no answer on her cell phone. The desire to see her became a need. He would find her. He needed to find her.
He stepped outside and instinct took over. He turned and hurtled through the darkness.
The way he did in his dreams.
? ? ?
The Iguana hadn’t changed since Haley and Brian had last played there a few years before. It still looked as if the sixties had never disappeared into history. People wearing tie-dyed T-shirts, jeans, and sandals sat on floor pillows against the exposed brick walls and on stools around unfinished wood tables that looked like giant spools. One of the owners, Desiree, was covering the door. She told Haley that the back spare room was taken for the next week, though Haley was welcome to stay there after that. The room was in the basement and had no windows, so it wouldn’t have worked for Haley’s plan. She felt despondent all the same. At least it would have been a free place to sleep tonight if she found nowhere else. With the Best Western giving her the night before free, she probably had enough on the credit card for one more night at a hotel, but then she’d be at the limit.
“Almost everyone is at that new folk festival in Oregon.” Desiree sat across from Haley at one of the round tables, playing with her red and gold bracelets as she spoke. She didn’t play music or sing, but she loved folk and bluegrass and handled the business matters at the Iguana while her husband concentrated on his band.
Haley set down her strawberry-kiwi-flavored water, the cheapest drink on the menu, and took a deep breath. “That’s too bad.” She had no idea how she could find somewhere to stay if no one was in town. She’d always been proud that she’d played with some of the best folk performers in the country, despite not having reached their level yet. Now she wished a few of them were a little less successful.
“Brian’s there, too, if that’s who you’re really looking for,” Desiree said.
“It’s not.”
“I heard you two broke up. Aren’t you playing anymore?”
“No, not lately. I got married.”
Another time Haley might have wondered if there was a connection there and why, and if that said anything about her desire to play music or her marriage. But for now she needed to concentrate on other things.
“Where’s your husband?”
“He’s in L.A., too, but we’re having some issues. Which is why I need a place to stay tonight. Not much left in the way of funds, and I probably don’t have a job to go home to.”
Those ought to be minor concerns compared to whatever was happening to Devon, yet Haley’s stomach flipped at the thought of being dead broke. She’d find herself sleeping in the car if she stayed in L.A. much longer. As it was, to get home, she’d need to ask her dad or Al to buy a ticket for her.
Desiree took a battered leather address book from her purse. “Let me see if I can find someone.”
Haley’s cell phone vibrated. The screen showed Devon calling. She let it go. She didn’t want to talk to him until she figured out exactly what to do. She saw she’d missed an earlier call from an unfamiliar number. That voicemail was promising.
“Hey, Haley, it’s Diana. Joe and I are out of town, but if you need a place to stay, head over to the house. Just let yourself in. We’ll be back Friday.”
The “let yourself in” part threw Haley at first. Surely Diana didn’t think she’d given Haley a key? Then she remembered the hiding place and smiled.
“You’re set?” Desiree said.
“Yes. One other thing, though. Do you have a laptop or computer I could use? I need to find a few things, and it’ll be easier than using my phone. It’s a couple years old and slow.”
“Sure. Behind the counter.”
Haley ran directions to Joe and Diana’s house in Redondo Beach and found places to buy the supplies she thought she needed.
She hugged Desiree good-bye and stepped into the night.
? ? ?
Bob Kohler stood in front of the movie posters at Grauman’s Chinese Theater, one hand on his hip, checking out every pretty girl that walked by. He wore dark sunglasses, black leather pants that hugged his legs, and a long-sleeved paisley dress shirt. He had just signed his first record contract on an independent label.
His ex-girlfriend, Jennifer, glared at him. She’d flown all the way from Denver to celebrate with him, and practically the second she’d gotten off the plane he’d told her they should start seeing other people. After that, he’d insisted on giving her a tour of every tourist trap in the Los Angeles area. And what the hell else was she going to do? Her non-refundable return ticket wasn’t good for another three days.
“I thought Hollywood would be—well—more glamorous than this.” Jennifer gestured toward the street vendors hawking cheap souvenirs, the boarded storefront across the street, and the flashing neon signs. “Less trashy.”
Bob lived not far from here, and she couldn’t resist slamming his neighborhood.
A man in faded Levis and a black leather jacket walked over to them. His dark hair hung down a little over his forehead on one side and his face had lean angular lines. He smiled at Jennifer. She smiled back and forgot she was in Hollywood, the sleaziest town she had ever visited.