Modern Girls Page 12

  Andi seemed upset or uncomfortable with this talk about Bambi. I could see why. So, I finished this by saying, “I’d like to talk to Bambi, because maybe she knows something. I especially want to talk to her now because she knew of you and Sid. Edie told me Bambi lives in Chatsworth, that’s a ways from here, in the Valley, correct? So, Edie thought I should talk to Bambi at the club. She said its name is Modern Girls.”

  “Oh, Stevie, what will Bambi know? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Andi, I need to follow every lead. Who knows what her story will be. Maybe this Bambi was jealous of you and Sid.”

  “She isn’t though. She…”

  She stopped suddenly. “Oh, I don’t know. This is all screwed up.”

  “Yes, it is. And, something, somewhere in all this is the crazy reason someone killed Sid.”

  “Oh, Stevie, I hate all this.”

  She began to cry, then ran to the bathroom, and shut and locked the door. Wow! What caused that?

  andi - avoiding

  Andi thought she was going crazy. She hated this conversation. Stevie was getting to know everything. She had no idea Bambi had an affair with Sid. But, it made sense.

  Andi felt so stupid! She wondered who Sid didn’t sleep with. What other girls did Sid sleep with from the club? That explained why Bambi was still nice to Sid.

  Andi was freaking out. She couldn’t let Stevie speak to Bambi. Everyone knew her at the club, too. How could she stop him? She thought maybe he’ll want to speak to Bambi later, if Andi told Stevie what she knew. But, then, she realized she couldn’t do that either.

  She didn’t know what to do! The only thing she could think of would be to admit everything after Stevie talked to Bambi. Maybe Andi could get him to think of something else for now. Tonight, she just wanted to be with him. She wanted to make love with Stevie. He’s the best. Andi loved him so much. Why can’t he see how she felt?

  senseless score

  Ten minutes later I heard her leave the bathroom and go to her bedroom. Five minutes after that she came out to the living room. Her eyes and nose were pink from crying. She held her arms tight across her chest and forced a smile.

  I said, “Are you OK, Andi?”

  She sat next to me and weakly said, “Yes.”

  Then, she perked up. She had a pen and a pad of paper. On the pad she drew two columns and wrote “Categories” on top of the left column and “Andi” on the top of the right column. Then, she wrote the numbers one through ten down the first column. Next to each number she wrote hair, face, eyes, nose, mouth, chest, tummy, behind, fuzzy, and legs.

  “Stevie, play a game with me.”

  “What game?”

  “It’s a game Cyndie and I played all the time. We called it our Top 10 scores. We graded our bodies and then explained our grades.”

  “Oh, Andi, I don’t want to do that.”

  “Please, can you indulge me this favor?

  “Why?”

  “I really, really want to know what you think of my body.”

  After what just happened, I knew there was no way I was playing this game. Andi was vulnerable and I absolutely didn’t want to hurt her in any way. I told her, “Andi, I don’t need a test to do that. I love your body. I think it’s super. You’re very good looking. No, more than that, you are the best looking woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Let’s prove that with this game. You may be surprised how it ends up.”

  “Not tonight, Andi, we’ll play some other time, because I’d give you a 100.”

  She said, “You’re crazy! You must be in love as that score is too high. The last time I played, I gave myself a 72.”

  “No, you’re the one who’s crazy, Andi.”

  “I’m not, Stevie, let me prove it. Take my hair. The color is very fake looking and my hair is damaged too. I’d scored it only a six.”

  Andi held out her hair and had me feel it. She said it was dry, but I didn’t notice it.

  “I don’t like this game. Andi, you’re way too hard on yourself. I can’t think of a woman who wouldn’t want your great body.”

  She replied, “You’re crazy or in love. My final grade is a C- or D+.”

  “That’s not how I see it, Andi. This game doesn’t work for me because it doesn’t count the whole person and the whole package. You look incredible; years younger than your real age. I think you’re an A.”

  “Oh, God, you make me feel so good! Now, let’s score Cyndie.”

  “No, not tonight, Andi, maybe some other time.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thank you for playing. Honestly, Stevie, I always want to look my best for you. Now that I know how much you love my body, I should be less obsessed.”

  “Andi, I hope so. Trust me. That’s how I feel. I know you like to look your best, so don’t stop. I love the results. You know, this is a crazy game. You and Cyndie do think up some amazing things.”

  Andi replied with a revealing comment, “Stevie, Cyndie and I made it a game, but all beautiful girls rate themselves and their rivals, don’t you know that?”

  Andi took my paper and put it in the drawer of her china cabinet. As she poured us a second round of iced tea, I thought of the conversation we just had. How completely different it was compared to any I’d ever had with Dee or Cyndie!

  Andi then came back to the couch with our drinks, and set them on her marble coffee table. She began to kiss me. I kissed her back, but stopped a minute later.

  “Andi, let’s take a ride in my Mustang.”

  “Like this?”

  I answered, “Why not?”

  She held open her robe, reminding me that she had only a g-string on underneath. “Plus, Stevie, this robe is so short and thin. If anyone sees me they’ll see everything.”

  I was so focused on my thoughts about the crime and not what Andi had on. Then, I said, “You know, wait a minute. I just thought of something. What clothes were you wearing on last Sunday night?”

  “A pink skirt, a white top and my white heels. But, the skirt got ruined from grease in the diner’s parking lot.”

  “Do you still have it?”

  “No, I never got them back from the police.”

  “I see. Then, put something on like those black clothes you wore tonight, OK? I want to go to the diner where Sid was shot.”

  She flinched. “Why?”

  “It may help you remember things, maybe some clue on the murderer.”

  “OK, but why are we going there now?”

  “I want to see want to see what it looks like at night, just like it happened, and things can change quickly. Don’t worry; I’ll be with you the whole time. I want to do it now, because it’s nighttime. Just like last Sunday.”

  “OK.”

  ***

  Andi changed back into her sexy black skirt, blouse and pumps. We walked quietly along the apartment complex’s concrete path and down the steps to the concrete floor of the garage. The only sound was her heels clicking along with each step.

  The ride north was a breeze on this very warm Sunday night. I put down the top and let the warm air blow all around us inside the convertible. Before we left the apartment, I grabbed one of my favorite CD’s that seemed to be very appropriate to this night, the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds. I put it in the CD player and turned up the volume. Andi slid over to me and held my right leg with her left hand the rest of our trip. I put my right hand on her bare knee.

  We head up Hawthorne Boulevard and onto the 405 freeway. The traffic was light and the ride was a dream. Simply riding and touching Andi were such wonderful, simple pleasures. We exited the 405 onto Sunset Boulevard and nearly re-traced our earlier drive as we rode east towards Beverly Hills. We passed famous streets and light traffic as we made our way to Hollywood and the Sunset Diner. I don’t know how long it took, but Pet Sounds hadn’t finished. We both became serious and I had both hands on the wheel by the time I turned into the parking lot and found a spot.
I parked and we slowly exited the Mustang. We held hands as Andi led me to the rear of the parking lot.

  The reality of Andi’s situation soon struck home. The faint chalk outline of Sid’s body was still slightly visible on the black top. I asked Andi to show me where she parked on that Sunday night one week earlier. It was in a spot close to my rental car.

  I had asked Andi to show me what happened. I would pretend to be Sid. Sid left the diner first and walked towards his car. He was parked two spaces further away from Andi’s car. Sid had almost reached his car. Andi followed him and was saying goodbye. She remembered putting her dinner doggie bag on top of her trunk and had just opened her purse to grab her keys. Andi heard someone approaching her, very quickly, from behind. She started to turn and before she could see the person, she was hit over the head with an object. She immediately fell down. Andi didn’t completely pass out but wasn’t seeing clearly and was very dazed. She remembered hearing Sid shout. Then, she heard the shot and a moan. After that, she felt someone touch her and put something in her right hand. Then, that person walked away, quickly.

  I had Andi repeat the walk to her car and her movements until the moment she was hit.

  “Now, close your eyes and take a deep breath and think about it. Are there other sounds or smells or touches that you remember?”

  Andi tried to open her eyes and speak a few times and I told her to wait. I had her stand still, breathe deep, and think with her eyes closed for a minute. Then, I asked her for any other memories.

  “The person’s touch was soft when they put the pistol in my right hand. It could have been a woman. Wait a minute. They put the gun in my wrong hand; I’m left-handed!”

  “Good. What other memories?”

  She answered, “Something about them; a smell, like perfume.”

  “Good, do you remember seeing anything?”

  “They were dressed in dark clothes, maybe black, like a sweat suit.”

  “Very good.” Then, I asked, “Did you hear them leave?”

  “They walked away. They walked behind me, towards the front of the building.”

  “Did you hear a car start or drive away?”

  Andi thought about it for a minute. “Yes, I did. A few seconds later a car pulled away, quickly. Then, the next thing I remember was some man discovering us, coming over to me.”

  I asked, “Did you hear the car’s starting motor crank or was the car already running?”

  She answered, “I didn’t hear it start. It seemed to just leave quickly. Why do you ask?”

  “It could be that someone else was driving, waiting for the killer to get in the car.”

  “Oh, Stevie, that’s scary. Do you really think that’s possible?”

  “Maybe there were two people involved. I don’t know for sure.”

  I had a beach towel in my hand. I spread it out on the black top. I looked around - no one was in the parking lot. “Andi, lie down on the towel. In the same position as that night after you were hit and fell.”

  “OK, Stevie.”

  She got down and lay on her left side.

  “OK, now, Andi, close your eyes again and see if any other memories come back.”

  She did as I asked and I was quiet.

  Then, she opened her eyes and said, “Stevie, I remember my head hurt so much and my vision was watery, blurry. I’m not sure. Maybe the killer was a woman. And, they walked away that way.” Andi pointed above her head to the front of the diner.

  “That’s great, Andi. Here, get up. Thank you. Let’s drive back to the apartment.”

  I helped her get up. She hugged me tight.

  On the ride back, I could see Andi was shaken.

  “Stevie, I don’t like thinking about this. Please don’t make me show you again.”

  “I won’t. But, this helped.”

  She asked, “Are you sure?”

  I said, “Yes, trust me.”

  I put on the radio to some upbeat, pop music and it changed the mood in our car. When we got back inside her apartment, Andi sighed, “What am I going to do when you leave me?”

  I said, “Don’t think about that.”

  seeking justice

  I woke very early the next morning, before Andi, as I was still dealing with jet lag. The noises were harsh this Monday morning compared to the day before, with sounds of fast-walking heels on concrete, loud door slams and zooming engines and squealing tires leaving the underground garage beneath us.

  We were in our spooning position and Andi was sleeping soundly. I wondered when she needed to get up for the audition. I didn’t know. It was only five-fifteen so I turned on my back and promptly fell asleep again.

  Then, I almost blew my budding relationship with Andi. But, subconsciously, it may have been what I wanted; I wanted to slow down the lovemaking with Andi and get focused on the case.

  I had a dream about my east coast girlfriend, Dee Dee. It’s strange how a man’s mind works. I was in Los Angeles, in bed with a supermodel, and my thoughts were filled with a vision of a petite, sexy Vietnamese-American stylist that I was just starting to court and who was three thousand miles away.

  In my dream I was laying in bed on my left side and so was Dee Dee, her back tucked into my chest. She was awake. I hugged her. She felt soft, wonderful and so inviting. In the very limited light, I realized she was naked and I was pressed up against her behind. I hesitated, thinking I had never made love to Dee Dee before.

  I said, “Oh Dee Dee! Are you sure we should?”

  She whispered, “Who’s Dee Dee?”

  My dream ended. I woke startled, confused. The closed, thick, dark curtains blocked the twilight and the room was very dark. I wasn’t in my own bed. In my astonishing, ending dream, I realized I wasn’t in bed snuggling with Dee. I sat up.

  She asked, “What’s the matter, Stevie?”

  I was about to answer, when my strange real life movie suddenly began again. I realized this wasn’t Dee and I was in Los Angeles! This was Andi Anderson!

  I snapped my head and move back a few inches, realizing my mistake and what I was doing, a rush of apologies and explanations came out my mouth. I stepped deeper into it as each second passed. “Oh Andi, I’m so sorry. I was dreaming about Dee Dee and I didn’t know where I was. Please forgive me. You felt so good, just like her, and I started to share it.”

  Andi increased the space between us and whispered, “I wish I was in your dream, Stevie. I guess I wish I was Dee Dee. Who is she?”

  “Andi, she’s the woman I just started dating back in Philadelphia. I’m sorry. We’ve never made love.”

  I was still touching Andi’s wonderful body, and she didn’t look too alarmed with my verbal screw up. She then moved closer to me again. “I accept your apology. I guess it must be the jet lag.”

  I was still very embarrassed and could only manage to say, “Oh, Andi.”

  Andi looked at the alarm clock and the red display showed 7:05. “Oh, we need to hurry. You better go take a shower. I’ll get us some coffee.”

  I kissed her and then she slipped out from under the sheet. She stayed undressed and I watched the best ass I’ve ever seen walk slowly out of the bedroom.

  By the time I finished in the bathroom, Andi was gone from the apartment. I walked out to the dining room and saw a note on the table that read, “I’ll be right back. I ran out of coffee. Going to Starbucks. I love you, A.”

  I then returned to the bedroom and got dressed. When I was ready I noticed that clock. It was 8 o’clock. Where was Andi? I felt I had to go. So, I turned her note over and wrote, “What took so long? Got to run. Break a leg. Love, S.”

  I then headed to the underground garage. Just as I started my car and was backing up, Andi drove into the garage. She stopped her car behind mine, hopped out of her car and brought me my Starbucks Venti. She gave me a kiss and said, “Have fun with Sarah.”

  I told her to break a leg and was off on my trip downtown.

  ***

  I got a good dose
of L.A. traffic once I headed north on the Harbor Freeway. I left the apartment at 8:10 and by 8:25 was in near gridlock on this elevated highway in South Central L.A. I turned off the radio and collected my thoughts.

  Twenty minutes later, traffic suddenly broke up and I got the Mustang back up to speed. Still, I was late getting to Andi’s public defender’s office in downtown L.A. I parked in the closest place I could find, a lot five blocks away, and walked back to the Criminal Justice Center.

  The corner of Temple and Spring Streets in downtown Los Angeles was filled with television remote broadcast trucks. They were parked haphazardly and people were everywhere. This was the OJ Simpson murder trial circus. The trial had brought the media from around the world. Millions were watching the court case every day. Out front a menagerie of people waited and watched as the entrance had been shut in anticipation of someone or something about to happen. There were a variety of sidewalk evangelists and sign-holding seniors with competing words of support and contempt for OJ, elbowing a troop of police assigned to guard the trial. Attorneys in all shapes, sizes and ages rushed from busses and parking lots, dragging cases and boxes, raced to the security check to get inside, but cursed when they found out that the entrance had been temporarily sealed. The curious, the tourist, the odd were simply lining the streets and the building’s steps as the first chauffeured vehicle arrived. I hated to be late, and I was, but I could only join the crowd on the steps and turn my head towards the Mercedes coming to a stop.

  The stars of this circus, the defense team, OJ’s Dream Team of lawyers, had arrived and were making their way up the stairs. First, Johnnie Cochrane appeared in his double-breasted gray-blue suit and bright gold tie. He smiled, shook hands, worked the crowd and thanked them for their applause. He basked in their adulation. Johnnie walked slowly, looked happy and confident, and why not, he was winning the final “trial of the century”. Johnnie was followed two steps behind by another middle-aged African-American lawyer, Carl Douglas, the first lieutenant in his law office. Douglas lacked Cochrane’s pizzazz. He was followed by a team of staff lawyers carrying briefcases.