That’s good news, but which of Alice’s things should I bring with me? Maybe something she’d miss. Or is it too mean to remind her of her life here? On the other hand, it feels a little lame to bring the TV remote or her toothbrush.
“How do I find the right crossroads?”
“Elizabeth Short was murdered near Leimert Park. There was a nice crossroads there, but it’s all suburbs now. Why don’t you try the I-10 underpass at Crenshaw? That’s a decent little crossroads. All you need to do is hit the accelerator and run the car into one of the concrete freeway supports. I’ll be close by to give you a little push to the other side.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
She nods and strolls to her car. I follow her over. She digs through the bag of snacks and comes up with a packet of jelly beans. She rips it open, offers me one, and when I shake my head, she spears one with a fingernail, takes it off with her teeth, and chews. She reaches into the packet, pushing the jelly beans around, looking for a specific one.
She says, “I’m only doing this because while you might be crazy, you’re not stupid. You don’t think you’re Orpheus and can bring your friend back to the world of the living. That means you’re willing to die and cross over to the worst place in Creation for someone you love but can never truly have. That’s the kind of thing that can give even an old thing like me goose bumps.”
“To tell you the truth, I’d rather be back running Max Overdrive.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You’re like me. One of the night people. I’m the road. I give life and I take it. People like us don’t get to close our eyes to the world and live cozy mortal lives.”
Two men’s faces slide into my memory. My real father, Kinski, a has-been archangel, and the father who raised me. One of the faces fades away. It’s the other, not-quite-human one that stays.
“You make it sound so doomed and romantic. We should all be drinking absinthe as we die of consumption.”
She shrugs her pretty shoulders.
“It’s what you allow it to be. You can find beauty and joy in the dark places just as easily as civilians find comfortikefind co in the glow of their TVs. But you have to allow yourself to do it. Otherwise . . .”
“Otherwise what?”
“Otherwise, ten years from now, you’ll be stopping me and asking a foolish question and I’ll end up sending you to a gas station to buy a map.”
“Ow. When you put it that way, Hell sounds just about right.”
Sally touches my cheek. Her hand is warm, like the furnace burning behind her shades.
“Be a rock, James. Otherwise, you’ll lose everything.”
“How did you know my name was James?”
She swallows another jelly bean.
“It’s just a trick I can do.”
I shake my head.
“You sound like the Veritas sometimes.”
“One of those little Hellion luck coins that insults you when you ask a question? I hope I’m not that mean.”
“No. But what the hell does ‘Be a rock’ mean? It sounds like the kind of hoodoo warning that never actually means what it says.”
Mustang Sally puts the jelly beans back in the bag.
“I always say what I mean.”
She takes the white driving gloves out of her purse and puts them on. “Just like I always signal when I change lanes. I can’t help if you don’t see me coming and end up in a ditch.”
Like a Howard Hawks freeway femme fatale, Mustang Sally slings the little purse over one shoulder and gets back in her car, revs the engine, and peels out. She blows me a kiss as she speeds by.
Aloha from Hell
I DRIVE ACROSS town and beach the Bonneville in a no-parking zone in front of the Bradbury Building, that old art deco ziggurat and one of the few truly beautiful constructions in L.A. A group of schoolkids is on a field trip and I let them pass by before stepping into a shadow. I’m pretty sure a couple of the kids saw me. Good. Kids need their minds blown every now and then. It’ll keep them from thinking that managing a McDonald’s is the most they can hope for.