Savages

109

Slicing through SoCal

Cutting through a California night

The freeway (5) is soft and warm and

Welcoming

But for Ben

The green exit signs are like steps climbing up a scaffold

Toward O.

Each one marking precious time, saying miles to go—

And miles to go before she sleeps

Aliso Viejo, Oso Parkway, El Toro

Lake Forest, Culver, MacArthur

John Wayne Airport now off to his left, glowing in white light, shut down for the night now so that takeoffs don’t disturb the slumber of Orange County—

Jamboree, because the Boy Scouts camped there.

Ben does eighty-five with a vanload of dope. Doesn’t want to speed like that but has to because the clock is running

Irvine Spectrum with its unlikely Ferris wheel and

Irvine Amphitheater proclaiming on its marquee the coming of Jimmy Buffett, o come, ye Parrothead faithful …

Ben sees, from the corner of his eye

The CHP car parked in the median

Lying in ambush

Like death does

(Cancer, heart attacks, aneurisms, all waiting patiently in the median strip)

He prays that the cop has better things to do, replays a Springsteen song in his head (“Mister state trooper, please don’t stop me, please don’t stop me, please don’t stop me”), not because he fears the years in prison but because it would mean O’s death and he glances in the rearview mirror to see if the cop pulls out (please don’t stop me, please don’t stop me), and he doesn’t.

Ben fucking can’t fucking breathe.

Hands soaked on the sweat-slick wheel.

Finally, Bristol Street.

South Coast Plaza.

O’s hunting grounds.

He exits left on Fairview.

Head on a swivel, he looks for the address they gave him, street numbers matching a little strip mall.

Come on, come on, come on

Where is it, where is it, where is it

His stomach aching, cramping in tension, he feels like he might shit himself, then sees—

The wooden sign “33–38.”

A liquor store, a pizza joint, dry cleaner’s, nail salon.

All closed.

He parks the van in the diagonal slot between lines and lets himself look at his watch.

Two minutes to spare.

Then he waits, knowing that they’re watching him.