what? Eight hundred bucks I’ve given you. I can spend more than that on a good breakfast, you feel me?”
Pete said nothing, but the paper in his pocket was screaming.
“So, take my number. If you come across something … like I said …
special. Just … let me know. I promise to make it worth your while, okay?”
LATER, WITH JIMMY AND HIS souvenirs long gone, Pete sulked in the cold night. He felt the burn of money in one pocket and Jimmy’s number—typed into his phone against his better judgment—in the other. All-in-all, the whole thing made Pete want to take a week-long shower. More than anything, he wanted to get off this movie and forget any of this ever happened.
He blew a hot breath into the dark, stared up at the pocked moon. A chill crept into his toes. Part of him felt like he was being watched; another part felt like he was watching himself, sitting there, slumped over. Miscast as the hero.
4
PETE ARRIVED HOME AT NINE a.m. to find Noemi strapping Gina into her Wonder Woman backpack.
“Daddy!” Gina screeched and threw her arms around his legs.
Surprised to see them, he picked Gina up and hugged her tight, kissed her cheek and head. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he saw a frazzled Noemi over her small shoulder, waiting patiently, car keys jingling in her hand.
“The truck is dead,” she said, reading his expression. “Can you believe it? Anyway, we’re late. I was about to call you ….”
Pete put Gina down, gave the top of her head one last kiss. “What do you mean, dead?”
Noemi shrugged. “It’s not the battery. It started, made it as far as the street, then clunked, then smoked. Now there’s oil spilling from beneath. You didn’t see it?”
“No … I just saw your spot was empty ….”
“Anyway, I need the Honda keys. I’ll be back around six and then you can take it back for work tonight.”
“Wait, how am I going to pick up Gina?”
“You’re not. She’s going to Mary Stuart’s after school. They’ll give her dinner, and the girls can play. I’ll pick her up on my way home. It’s all taken care of. Now … we’re late, so … keys.”
Pete handed over the Honda keys, already thinking about the damage to the truck. He used the truck on weekends for small construction jobs. If the engine was messed up …. He pushed the thoughts away. Too tired to give it any more energy. “Well, I’m glad I got to see you two. I hate missing the mornings.”
“Yeah, right,” Noemi said, smiling. She gave Pete a warm kiss, then moved her mouth to his ear. “Miss the nights, too.”
Pete put a hand around his wife’s waist, squeezed. “Just one more night on this one, then Marco’s moving me to a different show.”
“Okay, good,” she said, then put a hand on Gina’s shoulder. “You ready, my love?”
“Ready. Bye, Dad.”
Pete closed the door behind them. He felt sick, exhausted, badly in need of a shower and some sleep. He walked in a daze to the bedroom, too tired to eat anything as he normally did when getting home.
He emptied his pockets, stuffed the cash into his sock drawer with the other money, undressed, and hung up his uniform.
The shower couldn’t get hot enough, and he stayed under the beating water ten minutes longer than usual, hoping to feel refreshed, hoping to feel himself again. He’d go look at the truck later, see how bad the damage was. He knew a guy who could fix it cheap, but if it was a major deal, he might need a new one.
He thought about the money in the sock drawer … then made himself forget it. That was for Gina’s computer, and besides, they had savings. It would be fine.
As he crawled into bed, he made a promise to himself that no matter what happened, he was done with Jimmy and his Holly Pages obsession. Rich guy or not, it was over. Tonight, he was gonna watch the perimeter, lay low, and get the hell off this movie.
Feeling better and smiling at the remembrance of Gina’s warm hug before she left for school, Pete fell asleep.
THE TRUCK WAS WORSE THAN he thought. Oil wasn’t dripping, it was spilling out of the engine. If it was just the seals, that’d be one thing. But there was too much. And when he tried to turn the engine, it didn’t even whimper. And Noemi was right, the battery was fine. Interior warning lights flickered on, all of them red.
“Shit,” he said, and called his friend, who said he’d come by when he was done at work and take a look.
Pete went inside, and though he loved his little girl more than the world, enjoyed the quiet afternoon at home. He found the Dodger game, opened a beer, and waited out the hours until the girls arrived.
NOEMI AND GINA ARRIVED JUST before seven (“It was hell getting her out of Mary’s room—the two of them are nuts!” said an exhausted Noemi), and Pete had to forgo dinner to make it to the location on time during L.A rush hour.
Sitting in traffic on the 101, Pete’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket, but he forced himself not to answer while driving. The last thing he and Noemi could afford right now was a ticket. He was nervous about the truck, and nervous about being late for work. He hadn’t slept well, waking up before noon, thinking about getting Gina. Then remembering she would be at her friends and wanting to sleep more but unable to do so. After he’d checked the truck and called his friend, he’d tried to relax by watching television. But no game was on, and he was irritable, hungry, and tired. The fridge was no help, and he ended up eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, stale chips, and a Coke. After getting his uniform on and waiting for Noemi to get home, he went to the sock drawer and pulled out the cash. He counted it again. Eight hundred even.
He took three twenties, put them in his wallet, then tucked the rest away. It felt good to have cash in his pocket. Made him feel a little better, at least for a few moments. Then Noemi was late, and he paced and stressed while he waited, already knowing he’d miss dinner with his family. Getting stuck in traffic had only made him more irritable. Noemi had not gassed-up the car, so it was nearly empty, and he had no time to pull off the freeway to fill it up. He checked his watch for the thousandth time, and slammed a fist against the Honda’s steering wheel, inadvertently beeping his horn. He watched, disgusted, as the guy driving the Range Rover in front of him checked the rearview mirror and flipped him off casually, as if not sure if the horn was for him or not, but here’s a bird just in case.
