Behind him, wild cries of “Encore!”, “Bravo!”, and “More!” came increasingly from the crowd. Coming from a gathering whose usual stage-directed commentary ranged from the unprintable to the unperformable, it was a remarkably sedate demonstration. The purple fog had mellowed the mob in ways still to be determined. Throughout the greater Los Angeles basin later that night, numerous households would tremble to the stunned looks of astonished and bewildered parents. The alien suit’s method of coping with the unruly and potentially dangerous crowd was to utilize a soporific fog to affect a permanent change in their individual psychological makeups. They would stagger back out onto the streets no longer a threat to themselves or anyone else.
Never mind the music or the ventriloquist act, a stunned Tealeaf realized as she took stock of this mass sea chang. If they could bottle the purple fog they could rule the world. Every parent on the planet would buy it.
The car their hostess had loaned them was waiting in the parking lot. As Caroline slid behind the wheel Ross Ed gently placed Jed in the rear seat.
“Think you can find your way back? This place is even bigger than Houston.”
“Sure.” She started the engine. “You head west until you hit the ocean and then you go north.” She pulled out onto Sunset, burning rubber while dodging two cars that were uncommon even in their country of origin.
Still concerned, Ross Ed turned to gaze through the rear window. “You really think everyone back there is okay?”
She kept her eyes on the street. “Okay? Hell, they’re better than they were when they came in! Freaks into Fauntleroys.”
“This isn’t for me, Caroline. That woman talked so fast I didn’t know how to say no. Now I do. I’m not doing that again.”
Caroline blasted around a loafing Lexus. ‘Tealeaf won’t give up. She’ll cajole, threaten, cry, do anything she can to get you back on stage.”
“It won’t work.” He folded his arms. “Just because she’s giving us room and board doesn’t mean I’m obliged to her for anything more than that. I know how to deal with that kind of people. There are a lot of ’em in the oil business.”
“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t see her face when you were working your magic or cyberstuff or whatever it was you were doing out there. I did. She won’t leave you alone.”
“Then we have to get away from here.”
Clubs and record stores and restaurants gave way to the lavishly landscaped four-lane road which ran through Beverly Hills. Traffic thinned. All they had to watch out for now between there and the sea were joggers lost in the susurrations of their multihundred-dollar Walkmen and renegade poodles desperately on the prowl for an unlicensed coupling.
“Don’t worry, Ross Ed. And don’t be too hard on her. After all, she did get us to the Pacific. I’ve got my own credit card.” She patted the fanny pack she always wore. “Whenever you’re ready we can rent a car and head south.”
“Tomorrow, when she’s out of the house.” He brooded while Caroline swept the car around twists and curves. “You know, I really do prefer country-western.”
She grinned. “Maybe you ought to give that a try. Can you do an alien Garrh Brooks? Or is Garth Brooks really an alien in disguise? I’ve often wondered.”
As always, she’d made him smile. The least he could do was respond in kind. “‘Often’?”
“Well, maybe once.”
“Caroline, I don’t want to be anybody but myself, and I’m no performer. Tonight showed me that. Once was a hoot, and it was also enough. Besides, I don’t think I like these people.” He checked the silent presence occupying the backseat. “Give me a dead alien for company anytime.”
EIGHTEEN
He admired how effortlessly she found her way back to the beach house. It wasn’t that he had an especially poor sense of direction himself: you couldn’t survive in Texas with a bad one. It was just that they’d hardly spent any time at all in the sprawling, unfathomable city.
“I’ve lived in a lot of places, a lot of big cities as well as small towns.” She didn’t elaborate. “I’m used to finding my way around in strange places.”
The built-in gate opener admitted them to the circular drive which fronted the house. A similar device attached to the key chain granted entry. Motion sensors turned on the interior lights.
A couple of shouts produced no reply. Evidently Tealeaf was still working her contacts. Ross Ed wondered when the woman slept. Well, all her entreaties and calls were a waste of time. He’d had his one showbiz fling, and was done with it.
The house echoed around him; prohibitively expensive, over-decorated, trendy, and cold. If these were the rewards for success in Hollywood, he’d take Albany. Albany, Texas, that is.
Caroline opened a back door. “It’s nice out. Let’s go for a walk.”
“Sure. Just let me get Jed. After what I said about quitting, I wouldn’t put it past Tealeaf or one of her friends to try and swipe him.”
Once again the sturdy backpack was put to use as Ross swung it and its alien contents onto his shoulders. Together they left the house, walked down toward the water, and turned north.
The night was damp but warm as they headed for the Malibu pier, a long skeletal wooden arm stretching straight out over the water. A few lights illuminated the walkway. Dense fog hovered just offshore, a common spring occurrence along the Southern California coast. Most of the multimillion-dollar homes that lined the beach were dark, their owners away at work, play, or home asleep.
From time to time they passed another couple, or a nocturnal jogger, or someone walking a dog. Once they encountered a handsome middle-aged woman walking her cat. The immaculately groomed feline acted perfectly at home on the sand. Except for the constant complaint of the waves, it was very quiet, the noise of Pacific Coast Highway smothered by intervening slopes and trees.
Reaching the pier, they climbed the steps which led up from the beach and sauntered lazily toward the oversized gazebo that marked the far end. As the fog continued its inexorable onshore crawl couples enjoying the romantic location began to take their leave in search of warmer climes. The heavy wooden planks creaked beneath their feet, sounding more like the passing of ponies thaa people.
Glancing down between the boards, Ross Ed discovered he could see the dark water surging beneath his boots. Rather than the crisp, cheery sea of so many films, the Pacific he had found was a dark, solemn entity whose mournful lullaby he found soothing if not inspiring.
By the time they reached the open-sided, conical-roofed shelter at the end, the rest of the pier was deserted. Somewhere far out at sea, a melancholy buoy clanged its rhythmic warning at passing boats. High up in the eaves, ubiquitous house finches huddled silently in multiple nests. Among the feathers and twigs, down and bits of cotton, Ross Ed made out a torn tag with the name Gucci prominently displayed. He had to smile. Only in Southern California.
The fog closed in around them, turning the naked bulbs strung along the pier railings into magical will-o’-the-wisps. It swallowed up the houses that lined the beach and obliterated the lights of distant Palos Verdes. He felt as if he were adrift on an empty ship.
Well, not quite empty.
“You wanted to see the Pacific.” Caroline snuggled close. “You’re standing on it. Over it, anyway. What d’you think?”
“It smells. Stronger than I thought it would.”
“That’s the kelp,” she explained helpfully. “Kelp, and salt, and fish, and other things. Like it?”
“I’m not sure.”
She inhaled deeply. “To me it’s like perfume.” She leaned over the railing. “Look, I think I see barnacles.”
