Orange County Noir (Akashic Noir) (38 page)

Angel pulled back, whispering, "Guards don't like you to
overdo it, even if I do. No matter how much we want to, we
can't hug or kiss again until you leave." She looked up, beaming into his face. "Well, what did you bring me?"

"Uh-well, I tried to bring something but they, I mean
the guards, wouldn't let-" He gestured back the way he'd
come.

"I know that. Just a little joke. We have to sit across from
each other. It's okay to hold hands on top of the table."

They sat playing together with their hands; she smiled
at him and he smiled back, but from time to time her eyes
flicked to the side as someone came or went. Not paranoid,
but vigilant.

Fred thought it made her seem vulnerable, a good person
stuck in a bad place. Finally he managed, "I knew you'd be just
as beautiful and sexy as your picture."

"Thank you-sure don't feel like it in these clothes."

"Don't worry. I can get past your clothes."

"I wish you could."

He tried to picture her naked. He could tell she had a
good body. Not perfect, nobody was perfect-but she was so
pretty, even better than he'd hoped.

The room had filled with visitors, the majority women
with kids. Mothers, sisters, friends? Their own kids or the inmates'? Almost all of them looked poor. So what if the atmosphere wasn't romantic? This was a little bit of paradise with
only two people in it. And the most intoxicating thing was that he could tell from everything Angel said and did that she
felt exactly the same way. He couldn't get enough of that way
she looked at him, like he was a big fat birthday present.

He wanted to talk and said the first thing that came to
mind. "Why don't they let you bring in chewing gum?"

"I dunno. So you can't use it to stick things together and
make a weapon?"

"Amazing what people will think up, huh."

She smiled indulgently. "What the fuck else they got to do
with their time, squeezy bear?"

Fred didn't want to talk yet about her cleaning up her
mouth, so he asked if she wanted anything from the vending
machines. "I don't want to ask for a Slim Jim. You might think
I was ba-a-a-a-d," she said, tucking a bit of hair behind her
ear. "Maybe some beef jerky. Surprise me."

He stepped over the yellow line and bought the jerky,
which came in a cellophane sleeve and looked about five-totwenty-five years past its pull date, and some peanut M&Ms.
He wasn't hungry himself, so he got a cup of sour-smelling
machine coffee and a bottle of water.

Fred returned and tossed her the jerky lightly.

She pointed at his other hand. "What else you got there,
squeezy bear?"

"Squeezy bear, huh? I kind of like that name."

"I thought you might. That's how I always think about
you, just a big of huggy squeezy bear."

"I won't deny it. I don t need any other name for you, though,
cause Angel fits just right. I got this for you too." As he held up
the bag of chocolate candies, he couldn t help grinning.

"Ooh, I'll take dessert first!"

"Okay, but I get to feed 'em to you."

"Uh-uh. We can't touch."

"See, we won't be," he said like a spy setting up a meeting.
"I'll give 'em to you one by one. I'll hold this side of the candy
and you get the other side with your teeth."

"Can't-a guard can terminate the visit for that kind of
shit, and they do."

He sighed. "Another rule. Okay." So much for the fantasy
of watching her lick chocolate off his fingers.

She ripped the bag open, tilted it to get a mouthful of
candy, and wolfed it. Then she started on the jerky, chewing more thoughtfully, still glancing around. She looked like a
sweet little puppy learning to guard her dish.

He tried to ignore the helpless gesturing of the people
around them, their crying diluted by quiet attempts to laugh,
sing sweetly, or pray with confidence. Everyone tried desperately to have a private visit in an exposed public place. One
table over, an inmate asked, "Don't you think I know what's
going on?" The visitor said, "You don't know what it's like,"
and muttered about how hard he had it. When she whispered
into his ear, he shot up out of his seat and said, not quite
shouting, "You too, bitch!" He raised a hand swiftly, but it was
to signal a guard.

The whole room went silent, waiting, all the guards intent as one of them took the inmate away and another led
the guy out. A few seconds later came several tentative whispers, shifting on benches, footsteps, the clinking of coins in
machines.

Fred looked across at Angel, softened inside when he saw
how relieved she was, and swore he could hear his happily
beating heart. Love lifted him to a different plane from other
people.

She smiled and said, "All it takes is one asshole to stop
everyone's visit, but not this time."

They chatted about Fred's job and his house and his plans
to buy a new car, when a crackling loudspeaker announced
that Inmate Visiting had filled to capacity and that the firstin, first-out policy would apply. Several pass numbers were
called, none of them Fred's, and the guard broadcast, "Say
goodbye to your inmate."

Angel looked stricken.

"Hey, it's okay," Fred said. "I don't have to go right now, do
I? I was at least ten people from the front."

"Not that-I wanted to tell you some good news. My
counselor gave me a release date-"

"When?"

"June 1. Time off and early release to relieve overcrowding."

"Great! You're saying-"

"I'll be free. I go live my life again, report to my parole
officer, and don't reoffend." Angel rolled her eyes. "As if I
would."

Fred stroked the palm of her hand. "Look, I've been wanting to ask how you got to be here ..."

She answered in a whisper, leaning in. "Sure. I got nothing to hide. These two so-called friends-" she spat the word
"-asked me to drive 'em someplace. Then they tell me to
wait in this strip mall and they go in a jewelry store? So I wait,
but then a few minutes later I hear like a lot of sirens, and I'm
freaking, I'm panicked, I start the car and go."

"You poor kid. And the cops?"

"Busted'em. These guys, Mitch and Dan, tried to say I left
them there on purpose and even that I set up the whole job. I
didn't do anything, but you know the way things work. . ." She
paused to wave at the surroundings. "I had to take a plea and
testify against them. At least they're going to be down for a
long time, and I only have two more weeks. Can't wait!"

"Angel, honey," he said with concern. "Can you wait? Do
you think you can handle it until you get out?"

She laughed. "After a year and a half, I can do two weeks
standing on my head."

He squeezed her hand. "What then? Do you have family-"

"My folks don't want me, squeezy bear. They pretty much
disowned me. My brother Gordie would help if he could, but
they've already got a full house. Anyway, don't worry about
my problems. I'll be fine. At least I'll be free."

That called for a definitive move. Fred sprinted to the
edge of what could be a cliff and jumped off, saying, "You can
stay with me, Angel. We can be together."

He heard the loudspeaker again-his pass number with
some others, then, "Say goodbye to your inmate."

"I'll come back next weekend and-"

"No, don't. Another rule, you know. We can go over all
the details the next time we talk. Oh, I can't stand to let
you go!" She stood up, popped the last of the beef jerky into
her mouth, and then, laughing, spit it back into the wrapper
it came in. "I know that's gross, honey, but there's just no
damned way you can chew it but slow. Now come over here
and say goodbye."

It was a great kiss, even if it tasted bad.

On the day of her release, Angel didn't want Fred to pick her
up and said she'd stay with her brother Gordie Bacon's family
until the weekend, and then she'd move over to Fred's for a
while, if that was okay with him. Sure, he said.

On Saturday morning, Gordie backed a small rental van
into the driveway with the "few things" Angel mentioned.
He jumped out of the driver's seat and opened the back. As
Fred went outside, he looked at Gordie. Buff, but not too. Outdoor tan. The kind of guy who always looked like he
needed a shave, which some women unaccountably found
attractive.

They shook, Fred saying, "Hey, good to meet you, man.
Give you a hand?"

"No need, but I tell you what. Angel's dying to show you
her new hair," he warned, gesturing with his head.

Fred trotted around to the passenger side, and out stepped
the new Angel, with jet-black, straight, chin-length hair and a
black-and-brown checked sundress. She flew straight into his
arms. "Squeezy bear, I sure hope you like-"

"There's nothing about you I don't like," he murmured
into her new hair, which smelled like flowers, and confidently
began their long and satisfying first real kiss. He heard the
front screen door slam behind her brother. Fred, who had
managed to lose another 2.7 pounds, was feeling pretty wonderful with Angel right there in his arms. He wasn't really into
making out in public, but when he heard a mower switched
off, by instinct he opened one eye, amused to see his cop pal
Manny had stopped cutting his lawn across the street to openly
gawk, grin, and give him a thumbs-up, which Fred stealthily
returned behind Angel's back. One arm around her shoulders, he steered her into her new home.

Gordie had helped himself to a beer-at 9 a.m. He had
one of the ESPN channels on. He could have asked or apologized, but instead said, "Either of you want one?" like he was
the host and they were the strangers.

When the beer ran out hours later, Fred did end up helping with the few boxes, which Angel said to leave in the garage because she couldn't deal with them yet. One was light
like clothes, another dinky like dishes. There was also a rusty
stationary bike and a hibachi with cobwebs on the grill. She'd brought a traveling bag with her for the first few days, she
said.

Gordie, with an exaggerated leer, wished the lovebirds
goodnight.

That night, Fred offered Angel the guest bedroom, not
wanting to push too hard, but she let out a musical giggle and
started to undress him. They made love, and it was amazing
how she enjoyed it and came so much and had so many ways
to keep him going. The next morning she insisted on preparing
scrambled eggs and toast for him. She was bright and perky,
but he was pleasantly spent, wanting to go back to bed, rest
up, and start again. He knew she wanted that too.

Over breakfast, he swallowed a big bite of eggs, wiped his
mouth with the paper towel she'd put by his plate, and said,
"Mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Oh, baby, I don't have any secrets from you. I'm fallin' in
love with you. That's my secret, and now you know."

Fred forgot what he'd meant to ask and sat frozen, amazed,
the paper towel hanging from his hand.

Fred took ten days off that first month, and nobody at work
bothered him with calls or e-mail. He'd never felt better.

Things were still good with Angel, even if it was tough
sometimes to train her where to put things away, do cleaning in the correct order, or understand that energy-conscious
people turned out lights when they left rooms and set their
thermostats at seventy-eight degrees. Though the summer
sun beat down and the nights were warm, Angel didn't like
going outside, day or night. Backyard barbecue was fine, but
no walks or errands. At first he thought great sex had turned
her into a homebody, but one evening when they were watching TV, a car backed into the driveway to turn around, and instantly she was very still, like she'd been on Mother's Day.
A morning or two later, she'd gone into the bedroom when
the UPS guy came.

"What's the matter, my angel? Is something-"

"Nothing, I'm just weird. Not used to being free yet, I
guess. Just ignore it."

But the way she said it, Fred knew she was frightened. He
needed to talk to her about it soon.

The next weekend, Angel came in while Fred was on the Internet and caught him looking at engagement rings. She just
bent over and kissed him, getting into it, and drew him away
to bed. He didn't even have time to pop the question. She
wanted to get married soon, and to take his name.

"Speaking of names," he sighed contentedly, remembering the flaw in his happy life, "you've never been married before, right?"

"Not me. I was waiting for the right one."

"So how come you're Winkler and he's Bacon?"

She paused. "That's because he's my stepbrother. We have
different fathers."

"You mean half-brother?"

"Yeah, that's what I meant."

"Now that explains why you don't look anything alike,
huh."

If they were getting married, he had to lay down the law
about Gordie, their constant guest since his wife Fiona started
working nights. Fred hadn't even met her, after a month!
Gordie, being drunk most of the time and lazy all of the time,
ended up on the couch-a lot-and left in the mornings after
Fred went to work. He was a conceited asshole, but worse, a
cheapskate who never once brought anything to share until Fred cut back on the Bud supply and ran out of beer twice in a
row. Even though Gordie had to walk to the supermarket and
pay for more himself, he kept missing the point. Angel and
Fred hardly had a minute alone. Gordie was a nuisance.

On Monday, Fred went to downtown Santa Ana to pick up
the form for a marriage license. While he was there, he decided to look up the transcript of those guys' trials. He remembered their first names, Mitch-probably Mitchell-and
Dan/Daniel, and he had Angel's full name and inmate number. He gave this information to a nice middle-aged woman
with a motherly need to help him, bless her. She ticked away
at her keyboard for a while, found the last names, and looked
them up.

"Looks like they pled out after the preliminary hearing."