Funland (23 page)

As he stared at her, she sat toward and cradled the phone. She swiveled toward him and raised her eyebrows. “Woodrow Abernathy regained consciousness two hours ago,” she said.

“Glad to hear it.” He was glad for Joan, not for Woodrow. Other people would probably suffer in years to come because the creep had pulled through, but Joan wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of knowing she’d destroyed him.

Smiling slightly, she shook her head. She took a huge breath that swelled her chest, let it out, and slumped forward as if the air in her lungs had been all that was holding her up. Her forearms dropped against her thighs. Then she just sat there, hunched over and gazing at the floor.

Dave typed more of his report, but his eyes kept straying over to Joan. He wished he could go to her. They weren’t alone, though.

Finally she sat up straight. She met his eyes. Her head tipped a bit to one side. She smiled and slapped her open hands against her knees. “About ready to go, partner?”

“I’m almost done here.”

“I’ll hit the john and meet you in the car.”

He watched Joan stride away. Without the distraction of her presence, he quickly finished the report, signed it, and took it to the chief’s In basket.

By the time he reached the patrol unit, Joan was already sitting behind the steering wheel. He climbed in. She drove out of the parking lot and headed for Funland.

“You must be pretty relieved,” he said.

She nodded. “How are you doing? How’s the chest?”

“A little stiff and tender. Not bad. Thanks for the medication.”

Joan grimaced. “I’m really sorry about all that.”

“About what?”

“Guh…what could I
possibly
be sorry about? All I did was make a goddamn spectacle of myself, get soused, spill the goddamn champagne, throw myself at you, mess you up with Gloria. Shit. Nothing much.”

“It was a disgusting display,” Dave said.

She didn’t look at him. He saw her lips press together in a tight line. Her head nodded once in sharp agreement.

“The worst damn part of the whole thing,” Dave continued, “was when we kissed.”

Her head jerked toward him. For a moment her eyes were wide with shock. Then they narrowed. A corner of her mouth tilted upward. “Liar,” she said.

“Ah, you caught me.”

“I thought I’d made that kid into a vegetable. And you’d been stabbed. But it was like some kind of a victory too—we’d stomped those scrotes. So I just thought it’d be nice to
be
with you, you know? We’re partners. It seemed like the right thing to do, commiserate and hoist a few—”

“There was nothing wrong with it.”

She glanced at him. “I’m your partner, but I’m not a guy. That’s what screwed it up. Would’ve been the right thing except for that little detail.”

Dave reached over and patted her shoulder. “Don’t fret. I
think of you
as a guy.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“A guy who’s
taller
than me,” he added, hoping she would remember he’d first made that observation yesterday while he was embracing her.

The way her face softened, he knew she remembered.

“My only regret about yesterday,” he said, “is that Gloria showed up and I had to stop kissing you.”

Joan swung the patrol car into Funland’s parking lot. She stopped it, shut off the engine, and looked into Dave’s eyes. Her hand curled over his thigh.

“What about Gloria?” she asked.

“She’s out of it now.”

“Aw, geez.” Joan lowered her eyes. She seemed to be staring at her hand as it began to move slowly up and down his leg.

“Don’t worry about her,” Dave said.

“No, of course not. All I did was steal her guy out from under her.”

“I was never really hers.”

Joan’s hand stopped moving. She peered into his eyes, frowning. “Maybe you’ll say the same thing about me someday. ‘Don’t worry about Joan. I was never really hers.’”

“I’ve been yours since our first patrol together,” Dave said. “You just didn’t notice.”

Her eyebrows darted up. Her lips curled into a wise-guy smirk. She slapped his leg and said, “Bullshit.”

“What about you and Harold?”

“I was never really his.”

Dave grinned. “You were head-over-heels for me since our first patrol?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

He tried to look shocked. “You mean you weren’t?”

“I just knew I liked your legs.”

Robin saw a few familiar faces in her audience. Not Nate’s, though. Where was Nate?

He’d said he would see her today.

She’d been watching for him all morning. It was nearly noon now.

She wondered if she should take a break and visit his arcade. That might seem pushy, though.

He’ll show up, she told herself.

He has to.

It worried her, though. She’d half-expected to find him waiting when she came back from breakfast and took up her usual position at the north end of the boardwalk.

Maybe he’s just too busy at the arcade to get away.

He’ll show up.

As she played and wondered about Nate, she noticed that Dave and the female cop had joined her audience. They had been stopping briefly each time their foot patrol brought them to this end of the boardwalk. Dave hadn’t given her a talk since the first day, but he always nodded and smiled when he showed up.

Yesterday, she’d been tempted to tell him about Poppinsack. Each time she saw him listening to her music, she’d thought about it. He seemed like a good guy. He’d probably go out of his way to help her. But he would have to ask how the theft happened. That would be just too embarrassing. Besides, yesterday she’d still hoped to confront Poppinsack herself, and if the old creep ended up stabbed or something, she didn’t want any cops knowing she had a problem with him.

She could tell Dave now, since she no longer planned to nail the guy. But that still left the problem of telling him that the money had been stolen out of her panties.

I might tell his partner, she thought. It wouldn’t be so bad, talking to a woman about something like that. Robin liked her, even though they’d never spoken. She had a terrific smile, and her eyes looked friendly.

Robin considered it while she played. She wondered if there was any point. By now Poppinsack had probably spent most of the money. Besides, he was nowhere around.

When she finished the number, Dave came up, nodded to her, and tossed a folded bill into her banjo case. She thanked him. He smiled, gave her a little wave, then headed away with the woman.

“Let’s hear ‘Weenie Roast,’” called a heavyset guy who’d been in her audience several times during the past three days.

“You got it,” she said, and started in on the song.

As usual, people shook their heads and laughed or groaned.

She was just finishing when she spotted Nate at the rear of the small group. A quick rush of excitement made her forget the lyrics for a moment. She got back on the track, and ended with a flourish.

She waited for the clapping and hoots to die down, then announced that she would be taking a short break. People moved forward to drop money into her case, and wandered off.

Nate stayed.

He stepped up closer to her. Over his T-shirt he wore a money apron with bulging pockets that jangled as he moved. His arms looked muscular. He had a deep tan that she hadn’t noticed last night.

A real hunk, she thought, and smiled at herself. A stupid term, “hunk.” But appropriate.

“That’s a nasty little song,” he said.

“I’m a nasty little woman.”

He shook his head and smiled. The smile seemed a little strained.

“Hey,” she said. “About last night. You went ahead and gave me the twenty. You weren’t supposed to do that, you know.”

“I had nothing better to do with it.”

“Well, you’ve got to let me buy you lunch.”

“I have to get back to the arcade,” he said. “I left Hector in charge, and he’s a doufuss.”

It sounded to Robin like an excuse.

“That’s okay,” she said, and shrugged and hoped he couldn’t see her disappointment.

“I just wanted to come by and say hi, see how you’re doing.”

She tried to smile. “I thought maybe you wanted to hear more of ‘The Land of Purr.’”

“Some other time, maybe,” he said.

“Whenever.”

“I’ve gotta get back.”

He just stood there looking at her. He seemed so different from the energetic, cheerful guy Robin had met last night. Weary,
deflated.

Concern for him pushed aside her disappointment. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Maybe you’re coming down with something.” She took a step forward and pressed an open hand against his forehead. The skin of his brow felt smooth, moist, and hot. “I think you’ve got a little fever,” Robin said, lowering her hand.

He made a tired smile. “What are you, a nurse?”

“Just a gal.”
Cockless Robin.
Damn you, Poppinsack. “We’ve all got built-in thermometers on our hands. You’d better go home, take a couple of aspirin, and get plenty of rest.”

His smile perked up slightly. “I guess I could use the rest, anyway. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Neither did I,” Robin said, remembering her restless hours under the beachhouse.

“Where did you sleep?” Nate asked.

“On the beach.”

Frowning, he shook his head. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“I know. The trolls, the trollers.”

His frown deepened. “It isn’t safe.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Has someone bothered you?”

“I was robbed in my sleep two nights ago. And, of course, you know about that creep last night. Thanks again.”

“You oughta stay off the beach, Robin.”

“I like the fresh air.”

“That twenty I gave you, you could’ve stayed in a motel.”

She shrugged. “I’m saving up for a BMW.”

“It’s nothing to joke about.”

“I can eat good breakfasts for a week on twenty bucks. I’d rather have that than a roof over my head.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“That’s a stupid-fuck thing to say.”

Robin flinched.

Nate shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry. Jesus.” He rubbed his face. “I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“I’ve gotta go. See you around.” He hurried away.

Robin watched him until he disappeared in the crowd. She wondered what was wrong with him, really. Though his brow had felt slightly feverish, she didn’t think he was sick—he seemed depressed or upset, not ill.

Could it have anything to do with her?

That didn’t seem likely.

But he’d sure been in a hurry to get away.

Robin thought that they’d made some kind of connection last night, that he was eager to see her again. She’d tried not to read too much into it, but he had been on her mind a lot ever since their meeting. Especially once she had given up the idea of trying to jump Poppinsack.

Lying in the dark space beneath the house last night, she’d slept fitfully. She’d flinched awake, time and again, certain that someone was crawling toward her or that she’d been discovered by those who lived in the house. Huddled there, feeling small and frightened, she had comforted herself with thoughts of Nate.

It all seemed a little stupid now.

He was just being nice last night, and you blew it all out of proportion.

A feeling of sadness hollowed her out. She had been on the road a long, long time—drifting, savoring the freedom, not minding much that she was alone, and looking forward to each new day. It had started with running away, but it had soon become an adventure, a quest.

It had led her here.

And she realized, now, that she had allowed herself to hope it was over.

Nate could’ve been what she’d been looking for.

Could’ve been.

But wasn’t.

She stood there with a loneliness inside that felt as vast and cold as the ocean.

“I’m getting a case of the hungries,” Joan said.

“What do you feel like?”

During her two weeks of patrolling the boardwalk with Dave, she’d sampled food from most of the shops. She ran the list of possibilities through her mind: hamburgers, cheeseburgers, hot dogs, chili dogs, submarines, fish and chips, fried clams, Mexican food and Chinese and Greek.

“What were those gizmos in the pita bread with the lamb stuff and sour cream?” she asked.

“Gyros?”

“Yeah. Does that sound good to you?”

“They’re kind of messy,” Dave said. “I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself by slobbing.”

“Screw you,” she said, and bumped into him.

“Anytime.”

“Don’t hold your breath, partner.” She saw that they were passing the main entrance. “Why don’t I ditch our jackets?” she suggested. “You can go ahead and order, I’ll meet you there.”

“What do you want to drink?”

“Beer, but I’ll settle for Coke or Pepsi.”

“You want onions?” he asked, taking off his jacket.

“Just ice.”

He handed the jacket to her. “I am having onions on my gyro,” he said, speaking with slow precision. “Would you care for onions on your gyro?”

“I promise I’ll care for them,” she said, smiling as she watched Dave roll his eyes upward. “I’ll feed them, take them for walks, clean up after them.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be the only one with stinky breath.”

“Won’t matter,” he said. “I’ll be holding it.”

Smiling, Joan turned away from him. She pulled her jacket off as she walked past the ticket booth. She glanced back and saw that he was watching her. Nice.

It had been a terrific morning once their talk in the car was out of the way and she knew where they both stood. She still felt a little guilty about Gloria, but she figured she could live with that burden. Gloria hadn’t been right for him anyway.

And I am? she asked herself as she trotted down the stairs.

Damn straight I am.

It felt so good.

Joan arrived at the patrol unit. She tossed their jackets into the trunk, slammed the trunk shut, and hurried back through the parking lot.

She breathed deeply, savoring the fresh smell of the ocean. The sun warmed her, and the breeze caressed her. She felt light and compact and strong and vibrant. She liked how the breeze ruffled her T-shirt and shorts against her skin. She liked the weight of the utility belt around her hips, and the way the leather creaked. She liked the feel of her muscles sliding under her skin. She liked the feel of her breasts moving inside her bra and how the fabric felt against her nipples. And the subtle tightness of her panties. And the soft springy feel of the soles of her shoes. She even liked the hungry feeling in her stomach.