Street Dreams

33

Work came,work went. A routine week and I liked it that way. The following Sunday, Koby and I finally managed that romantic dinner, driving down Pacific Coast Highway just as the sun was sinking over the horizon, the sky bursting with fireworks in a palette of hot pinks, regal purples, and flaming reds. When we turned right onto Malibu Canyon Road, the mountains were bathed in reflected light, turning the surface mossy green and rust orange. The moon could be seen swimming in the pale gray sky of dusk. It was a wonderful moment, an incredibly delicious evening, and I was giddy even before sipping my first glass of wine. We shared food while we cracked wise, the banter eventually turning into a series of racy innuendos. By the time we hit the road, we couldn’t wait. So we checked into an old Malibu beach motel-a series of tiny, private cottages with beds the size of coffee tables, foam rubber mattresses, and scratchy sheets. No view of the ocean, but that didn’t matter. It was all lightning and thunder, and when it was over, the shower worked.

I felt as if I were finally living those glorified high school days that had eluded me as an adolescent. It was nice to walk on air andreallynice that the guy involved was incredible in bed. It was too early in the relationship to feel this way and I knew that the carpet could be yanked from under my feet at any moment. Still, I had carried Koby’s key and he hadn’t asked for it back. In fact, the only thing he had asked for was my key in return.

It was just past midnight when we made it back to the city. I had fallen asleep in the car, but I awoke around Sunset and La Brea, about twenty minutes from Koby’s house. I roused myself and rubbed my eyes. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Nice nap?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Need me to drive?”

“No.”

“You’re not tired?”

“Not tired at all. Too aroused.”

“Aroused like inuparoused or aroused like in sex-”

“That one.”

I was amazed. “How can you be horny?”

“Because I fantasize while you sleep.”

“You’re an animal.”

“No, Cindy, I’m a guy. We are simple: cars, sports, and sex. At this hour, not many cars on the road and no game is on… I think about sex.”

I gave him the eye. “Was I in your fantasy at least?”

He grinned. “Youwerethe fantasy.”

I hit his shoulder. “Liar!”

He laughed. “No, no, I prove it to you when we get home. I act it out for you.”

Again, I slugged him. “Would you like me to de-arouse you?”

“Not particularly.”

Silence.

“What?” Koby asked.

“I told my mother about you,” I said.

Koby’s hands gripped the wheel, but he didn’t answer.

I said, “Did it work?”

“Very much. It has died a sudden and pitiable death. What did she say?”

“She asked if it was serious.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I said I’ve known you only about a month and serious was still a relative concept. I told her I like you very much. She wants to meet you.”

He smiled. “You like me very much?”

“No, I think you’re a bum.”

“I work too hard to be a bum.”

“That’s true. You must have worked like a dog to afford the down payment on your house.”

“No, a dog has a better life.” He laughed at his joke. “The house has a story. I have a friend who had a start-up in the late ’90s. Usually I am cautious, but I don’t know. I gave him a couple of thousand that quickly turned into twenty-eight months maybe. The house came up, I took out my profit. A year later, the company went under. Pure luck.”

“The secret was you weren’t greedy.”

“Whatever it was, I don’t question, I just say thank you. When you want, I will meet your mother.”

“How about this weekend?”

“Sure.”

“You’re a sport, Koby.” I pulled down the passenger vanity mirror on the sun visor and began to play with my hair. “We usually have lunch on Saturday. I told her that wasn’t good for you because ofShabbat.I think the fact that you’re traditional aboutShabbatbothers her more than your complexion.”

He made a face. “Why?”

I smoothed back a strand of bothersome locks. “My dad’s wife is very religious.”

“Ah. So I’m identified with the enemy camp.”

“More or less… although my mother remarried before my father.”

“Do you get along with your stepfather?”

“Yeah, Alan’s all right.” I took out a tube of lipstick and touched up my mouth. “I don’t see him a whole lot. I usually meet my mother alone, so I only see him when they have parties. They have quite a few of those-about six a year.”

I narrowed my eyes and studied the traffic behind us.

Koby said, “So what day did you pick for us to meet?”

The seconds ticked by.

“Cindy?”

“Next Sunday… hold on a moment.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Hold on!” I glanced in the side mirror. “Don’t do anything, Koby. Don’t look in the mirror, don’t pick up your pace. Just keep driving. I think we’re being followed.”

He didn’t speak. But once again, he gripped the wheel. It must be something he did when he was nervous. He had reason to be.

“Bronze Chevy Nova,” I said. “Haven’t seen one of those in a while. Primer on the left side. The windows have been darkened. That’s illegal, but right now it’s beside the point. I can’t make out the driver’s face this far back. He’s just a shape right now.”

“Should I slow?”

“No. I told you, just keep driving.”

He swallowed. “Is it the guy I whacked in the back?”

“Maybe. Although I thought he was still locked up in County.”

“The hit-and-run driver from the accident?”

“Could be. We’re driving in the same car. Whyanyone’sfollowing us is up for grabs.”

“And you can’t see him?”

“No.”

Koby was quiet. It suddenly dawned on me that he wasn’t a fellow cop. It was up to me to guide us both through this. “I’m a little tense. Sorry if I’m short. It’s probably nothing.”

“It’s fine, Cindy. Just tell me what to do.”

I patted his knee. “Just keep driving, all right? It’s no big deal. We’re on a major boulevard and there’s still enough traffic.”

“Why don’t you call 911?”

“Because I want to make sure I’m right. What I wouldn’t give to get his license number. There’s no front plate. You know, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll call that in and let some cruiser stop him.”

I took out my cell phone.

The battery was dead.

It had been a long evening.

“Does your cell work?” I asked him.

“I don’t have it with me. I didn’t want intrusions tonight.”

“Sweet thought but unfortunate, because we have a big intrusion. Okay. Time for Plan B. How do you feel about driving in this situation?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know… sudden turns… screeching tires…”

“This car doesn’t have so much pickup.”

“You know, there’s a way to pop the clutch and press the gas at the same time. It’ll push it to the max.”

“Maybe you should drive.”

“Then miss the next light and we’ll switch places.”

He did. It was hard getting over the gearshift without bodily harm, but we succeeded. With the wheel in my hand, I felt better. I adjusted the rearview mirror. I plunked my purse onto his lap. “Ever hold a gun?”

“I was in the army.”

“I’m not talking about an Uzi, Yaakov. I mean a handgun.”

“Yes, I have shot a handgun.”

“Are you a good shot?”

“I was a decent shot, but it’s been over ten years. I’m sure I’m rusty.”

“I’ve got a nine-millimeter Beretta semiautomatic standard police issue in my purse. You can take it out.”

He retrieved it, studying its features. “Do you have the magazine?”

“It’s not loaded?”

“No, Cynthia, it is not loaded.”

“Check my purse. If I don’t have one in there, we’re out of luck.”

Rummaging through my purse, he fished out a magazine and shoved it into the chamber. “We’re in luck.”

“Okay. This is what I’m going to do. I’m going to turn right in two blocks, floor it, pull over, and cut the lights. I’m going to park on the wrong side of the street. The driver’s more likely to miss me that way. Then as the Nova passes, I’m going to try to read off the license plate on the back. Stay low in case they decide to shoot.”

“Maybe I should read the license plate while you cover me? I have no doubt that you’re a better shot. And if you’re on the wrong side of the street, I’ll be on the correct side to read the numbers.”

“Except if they start shooting at us, you’ll be closer.”

“A comforting thought.”

“Koby, I am so sorry!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll handle this.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’m psyched.”

“Ready?”

“Go.”

I made a quick right and punched the accelerator as I jammed the gears. The car bucked backward, then shot forward with surprising speed. I cut the lights, pulled over, switched off the ignition, and ducked. The Nova sped by, but even so, I got most of the plate and what I didn’t get, Koby filled in. I turned the car’s ignition, did a U-turn without lights, then headed back into traffic.

Apparently not soon enough. The Nova had other ideas. It must have been souped up, because within moments it was kissing the Toyota’s rear bumper. I pulled a sharp left into a darkened residential area.

The Nova followed.

Another right, another left. There was no way the Nova could maneuver that easily. Yet there it was, riding my ass.

Getting closer and closer.

I pushed Koby’s head down and smoked the gears. A volley of shots made neat little bullet holes in his trunk and blasted through the rear windshield, shattering the glass.

“Shit!” I screamed as I strained the engine forward. I screeched out a two-tire right and tried to accelerate, hearing the engine whine, feeling the knocking of the gears.

“Kus sa mack!” Koby rolled down the window, and using the side mirror for a view, he twisted his right arm and fired a round into the Nova’s hood. I noticed he shot one-handedly and I noticed he shot like a cop-his palm parallel instead of perpendicular to the ground. He obviously had hit something, because the Nova began to smoke. Before he had a chance to reload, I turned right, and the Nova tore away. I pulled over, turned off the ignition, and caught my breath. “Oh God!” I grabbed Koby’s hand. “Oh God, are you okay?”

He patted his chest with his hands. “No bullet holes. Just a racing heartbeat.”

I was huffing and puffing. “All right.” Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. “Okay. We’re about five minutes from the station. Once we file the report, it’s going to take a while. There’ll be lots of questions. Are you up for it?”

He exhaled hard. “I think, yes.”

I waited a few moments, trying to anticipate what was going to happen. I didn’t like the setup I was seeing. I swallowed hard. “Koby, if it goes down that you fired my gun, it’ll be bad for both of us, especially if you hit someone.”

“It was self-defense.”

“Yes, exactly, and once they see the car, it won’t be a problem. But there are much stricter regulations about a civilian discharging a weapon than a cop.” I looked him in the eye. “There’s no way I’m going to let you handle that kind of heat. You drove, I shot. It’s your car. It makes more sense anyway.”

“But that’s not what happened.”

“Yes, you’re right. It’s a lie. They will have me sign an affidavit and I will perjure myself. I want you to do the same thing. If you hit someone fatally, I will take responsibility-”

“I’m not asking you to do that.”

“Listen to me!” I held his face. “Please, pleaselistento me! Please don’t argue. Okay?”

He didn’t give me the satisfaction of an immediate answer. “I don’t want you to get in trouble because I was rash.”

“Yaakov, you weren’trash.You saved ourlives!Just… just trust me on this! Please!”

We were both breathing hard. Finally, he relented. “Whatever you… you think.”

“That’s what I think.”

He nodded. “Okay… okay. I drove and you shot. Except that I smell of gunpowder and you do not.”

Gunshot tattooing. It was unlikely that they’d check my hand, even more unlikely that they’d check his hand, but just in case, I took the gun from him, rolled down the window, and fired off a couple of shots. “When we get into the police station, go to the bathroom. Wash your hands with lots of soap and go clear up to your elbows if no one’s watching you.”

He nodded. “So I just tell them what happened or…”

“Tell themexactlywhat happened, except you were driving and I did the shooting.”

“That the car was following us and you wanted the license number?”

“Yes. And I tried to call for backup, for help, but my cell was dead. And you didn’t have yours because you didn’t want the intrusion. Just stick to the facts.”

“Except that I was driving.”

“Exactly.” I blew out air. “Yaakov, I’msosorry-”

Before I could continue, he grabbed my neck and kissed my mouth-long, slow, and hard. “We’re whole, Cynthia. Nothing…nothingelse matters. I say ‘meqseft yasferawal’ in Amharic, I say ‘Gomel’ in Hebrew atbeit knesseton Saturday, and in English I say ‘thank you,Hashem,for saving us from catastrophe.’ God has choice of languages. Now let’s get out of here.”