Los Angeles Stories (17 page)

“So, Herb, we got a problem.”

“Stop right there, Ned. Anything you need me for, it's a new deal.”

“This is going to take a very smart man.”

“Just tell it,” Herb said.

“It's like this, Herb. I have a deal going with this friend in real estate, a close friend, a partner. We've put loans together for folks over at Douglas, some friends up there. Home loans. I'm getting into some business here in town, not just the car line. Things are definitely moving forward. This other friend helped us meet clients up at Douglas. His name is Lonny, a very good man to know, very helpful. But he has a medical problem we didn't know about. We could have taken a closer look, but things were moving rapidly. So now, we feel responsible. He helped us, we should help him! It's the right thing. Let me put it in this way. He says being a man is not working out for him. He wants to change over and be a woman. He needs a doctor that can do the job right, and I need to find this doctor or there might be some trouble.” Ned sat there, out of breath.

“Why come to me, Ned? Tell me, this I got to hear,” Herb said.

“Herb, you know and I know that you know people. You've been around, an entertainer like yourself, in the nightlife. I'm just a business man from Santa Monica.”

“And I'm just a black man out there on the fringe where the freaks are. Matter of fact, I do know. But, now, why should I help you? The cops are after you, I don't know why. I have had all the trouble with cops a man can stand, but that's past and gone.”

“You will help me because you are with me. If the police ask, tell them I am the boss and I back you up, 110 percent.”

“I am not ‘with' you, Ned. I do jobs for you on the car lot, but I am not at all ‘with' you. I'm a car mechanic, not an errand boy for trouble. What is this man holding on you?”

“This is a problem I got to take care of. A problem for me is a problem for you.”

The two men sat quietly. Here is a fork in the road, Herb thought. The sign points two ways: “shortest” and “best.” No second chances in the land of a thousand dances, the valley of ten million insanities.

“I can take care of Lonny, but I want something, too, Ned. Somebody in Santa Monica owns this house and Andrena's house next door. Who, I don't know. We pay rent to a company up on Ocean Park, called Airport Equity. I want the deeds signed over to us, free and clear. Easy for a smart man like you. Little old properties like these aren't worth anything compared to getting this guy off your back, I expect. Deal?”

“You have a deal, very definitely.”

“Every time you say that, I get nervous.”

“I am being perfectly truthful.”

“Well, that's all right, then. Where's our man?”

“He's waiting down on the pier at the far end. Little guy, sandy colored hair, tan jacket, hat.”

“Where's George Gresham?”

“I am very worried about George. He was working on a job for me. I don't know where he is.”

“Man, this is going to cost you. It isn't just a case of new points, plugs, and condenser.”

“Please sit down, in the light. Let me look. You know, I am an
espe­cialiste
, Herb has told you. But, in the way to the man, that is my work. Actors who must look strong in the tight pants! Ha ha, yes, I have done well, I think. But you, you desire the opposite, no? That is more dif­ficult, more . . . more . . . como se dice? . . .
complex
, like the woman. Well, we will see.”

“Don't give me any of that ‘we will see' shit, I'm telling you — ” Lonny started to say.

“Stop! Do not raise you voice to me! Do not make threats, my friend. You know, there is nothing so terrible as a bad job in this work, eh? You remember Tony, Herb? Tony, he threatened me, he put his hands to me. What did the boys call him afterward? Needle Dick! Ha ha, yes, needle­ dick, the chicken­ fucker. So you see, you must remain calm. You have good eyes to be a woman, I think. And a good mouth. These are the important attributes, no? What do you say, Herb? Will I make the success?”

“You know what you're doing, Doc. Esquerita was good work.”

“Oh yes, and he went on to do great things. I was happy for that.
Pianiste
. So, I accept, I will do!”

“Doc, I got a good place for him to recover. My neighbor. She's always home, works at home. She can take care of him. Her.”

“Your name is Lonny, so we will say
Lonnie
and change only the spelling. Ha, that bodes well, no, Herb?”

“Sure, Doc, it can't miss.”

Herb made arrangements with the doctor. He would pick Lonny up in three days. Payment due on delivery. Recovery time two weeks. Herb walked down the old wooden stairs. A sign over the front door read “The Edwin Apartments, 1914.”

“Not much of a front,” Lonny had observed. “What's this guy do, scrapes?”

“Exactly,” Herb told him, “but he's got a side­line. He did some work on a friend of mine a few years back, did a great job.”

“What's his name, Dr. Frankenstein?”

“Doctor Mario.”

“Mex?”

“Cuban, but don't be put off, you'll walk out of here a free woman.”

Herb explained the deal to Andrena. “This isn't work for hire, this is an exchange. The deeds would mean security for us. You can't throw a homeowner out of his home, that's what America is all about.”

“Yes. But either way, I am happy here. When Arturo was killed, I thought God had turned his back on me. Now, I feel he has opened a new door.” They were sitting in the tiny living room where Andrena did her sewing. Day and night, she worked at the machine, creating the marvelous designs that made the women of Brentwood and Beverly Hills so happy.

Lonnie slept in the bedroom, Andrena slept in the living room. Doctor Mario sent along a powder to be taken with meals. Light meals. “Do not tax the body. Do not contact me unless it is very bad, I must insist. I am an artiste, but my art is concealed. A secret! Ha, the
Edwin
. You see, I am disguise.”

Ned brought a satchel­ full of money. The handle was wet. “Four grand. It makes me sweat, I can't help it,” Ned said.

“I told you five, Ned. Four for the doc, one for Andrena to take care of Lonny,” Herb said.

“See you in two weeks, Herb,” Ned said.

Doctor Mario's timetable was right on the money. Lonnie was up and around after about ten days. “She is helping me with the work,” Andrena told Herb, “She has good hands.” Herb stayed on his side of the hedge, at first. He was reluctant to intrude on the two women, on their rapport. There was no word from Ned Hillael. Herb spent more time in his vegetable garden trying out new things, like Kentucky red ­runner beans and giant tomatoes new on the market. He felt like he was on vacation not having Ned call five times a day. Lonnie was looking better. Her hair was growing out and her face had started to soften a little.

Herb thought they should have a barbecue. Cabrito, squash, guacamole, beer, and short ribs, Scrubby's favorite. “I want to tell you a story,” Lonnie began, after dinner. “I love a story,” said Herb. He was in a good mood, the best in a long time.

“Four years ago, I got a job at Douglas Aircraft. They needed skilled machinists for the new interceptor guided ­missile design project. I had the background up at Lockheed in San Josey, so I was hired on as machinist, first class. That's a good­-paying job, even if Douglas is non­union. The machinist's union threatened to expose me as a scab, but I said, who knows if the defense work will keep going, it's already ten years after the war. I moved down here, I got no family. But I had nervous problems, and it got worse after I moved. You understand now.

“Then, one day, I met Ned Hillael in a bar up on Ocean Park. He acted friendly and bought drinks, and we talked. He was interested in my problem and he said he could help me, but he wanted something. I said, we all want something. He was interested in the employee credit union at Douglas, as in, who was solvent, who was in debt, and how bad. I had security clearance from the missile job, I told him. He got very interested. Could I use the clearance to check out employee records in the credit bureau? I guess so, I said. So he said, if I could bring him the credit records, he would use his influence as a successful businessman to find me a doctor so I could have an operation. He said I would definitely make a really cute girl, and he was already attracted to me. Security at Douglas is pretty loose. Your security guards spend a lot of time in the Skywatcher's Lounge. Now, listen to this. Workers are always living beyond their means, that's nothing new. They start buying things like cars and get into debt and can't pay their mortgage loan. Then, Ned and his partner foreclose and take possession and sell the house and split the money with the bank. Ned has a friend at this particular bank, the Airport Equity Home Loans. A nice little set­up. But I found out something else, something I never told Ned. Douglas Aircraft is going out of business. They're going to close the plant, because they've lost the Defense Department's missile contract to Hughes. Everything else they make is obsolete, so they stand to make more money by closing the plant and selling off the real estate. Nobody knows this. Not Ned, not the bank, not anyone.”

“And what becomes of the workers?” Andrena asked.

“Out of a job and not earning a dime,” said Lonnie with a shrug.

“Well, and all the people who sell them things. In Santa Monica, todo el mundo.”

“When is this supposed to happen?” Herb asked.

“In about two years, tops.”

“Who's Ned's partner?” Herb asked.

“I never saw him, but Ned calls him Bill.”

Herb and Scrubby walked through the hedge to Andrena's the next morning. Scrubby was tired from their big morning walk through the cemetery. She drank some water and lay down by the side door to keep an eye on things. Andrena was at her sewing machine, listening to
The Guiding Light
, followed by
The Romance of Helen Trent
. She never missed a morning with her soap operas.

“Where's Lonnie?” Herb asked.

“I'm worried,” Andrena said, looking worried.

“Why, what'd she do?”

“It's Helen's novio, the doctor. He's not a good man, I knew he wasn't.”

“I thought you meant Lonnie.”

“She went out before I got up.”

“It's two weeks, today. I got a bad feeling about Ned. I don't think he's going to hold up his end of the deal.”

“I'm afraid Helen finds out the doctor is bad.”

“I'm afraid Ned is worse!”

The radio announcer was speaking in an emotional tone: “I'm Truman Bradley, and this is the program that asks the question, can a woman find romance after thirty-five? But first, this message. You know, constipation is something people don't talk about much. If you are experiencing problems with your normal regularity, take Ex-­Lax, the tiny, chocolated laxative that won't disturb your sleep or your money back! Be sure to ask your druggist for chocolated Ex­-Lax today, and don't get the laxative habit!”

Andrena's sewing machine hummed and whined. She moved the cloth around and around without stopping, almost in a trance. “Lonnie is two people. The colors are still drying,” she said.

Herb shook his head. “I don't know. Something is ticking like a stuck valve. I don't like it. Think I'll go out and look around.”

On the radio, a jazzy female trio sang: “If your whites aren't white and your colors aren't bright, switch to White King D! White Kinnngggg!”

Herb drove south past Washington into the canal district. The canals smelled like oil and garbage mixed with the cleaner scent of saltwater blowing in from the beach two blocks away. In the afternoon sun, Dudley Court looked just as abandoned as before. Herb knocked at the house closest to the street. A woman came to the screen door. “Yeah?” she asked.

“Sorry to bother you,” Herb said. “I'm supposed to meet someone in the court here, but I don't know which place. It's a woman, short, blond, about thirty.”

“Nobody like that!” the woman laughed. “I'm the only one left. My toilet is broken again. What should I do, go in the dirt?”

“Landlords are all the same,” Herb said. “That's how I got to be a mechanic. You want something done, better do it yourself.”

“I can't,” said the woman.

“I could take a look at it for you.”

“I would be grateful. Please come in.”

Herb followed the woman into the tiny house. There were photographs everywhere, smiling faces from another life, another time, another world.

“In here.” She stood aside for Herb to enter the tiny bathroom.

Herb lifted the tank top. The stopper chain was broken, as usual.

“Got any wire?” he asked.

“I don't know.”

“I could use the wire from the photographs.”

“Take what you need.”

Herb removed the wire from the back of one of the large pictures, a portrait of a young woman with soft eyes and a look of amusement. “That's me, in Berlin, before the war,” she said.

Herb adjusted the wire and tried the handle. The ancient toilet flushed with a groan. “It'll be all right for a while,” he said.

“Thank you. Please come and sit down. I'm wondering about something,” she said.

“Shoot,” Herb said.

“There aren't any blond girls in this neighborhood. I'm curious why you came to this court, if you don't mind. I'm worried about what they are going to do. It's been empty for a year now, except for the man in the back, and now he's gone, I think.”

“Sure, I understand what you mean. I'm not from any real estate outfit, and I'm not a bill collector or a cop, believe me. I'm a renter, like you. But, now, here's the thing. You say you saw the man in the back house. I'm interested in how he got here and who brought him.”