it.”
“I’ll ask, Dell. When would you want it?”
I touched one of the red dots on Dolly’s map. A little strip of closed-down stores, right off the highway. When I’d asked her why she’d marked that spot, she told me it was a supermarket, but not one you could see. Behind the closed-down stores, you could buy dope—meth and pills, mostly—and other stuff: unregistered guns, bootleg CDs … just about anything a burglar could snatch.
Then I put my finger on another red dot, much bigger than all the others. Raised my eyebrows.
“That used to be a fast-food place, but it went out of business. Now it’s a day-care center. Fixed up very nicely, and I haven’t heard a wrong word about the people who run it.
“But after dark, the parking lot behind it is a different kind of hangout spot than the others. It’s run by kids—young men, really—who some of the girls think are so cool that they’re willing to pay an admission charge.
“Those … the people I’m talking about, they almost live outthere. At night, I mean. I don’t know what makes them so special, but they have their own thing going. Whatever that is, they don’t mix with anyone else. Not the way skinheads don’t mix with skateboarders, it’s much more than that—nobody in their right mind would just go over to them and ask them to join.”
“So why the big red dot?”
“Like I said, that gang has an admission charge. It’s sex. No girl would get a second look from them unless they knew she’d be willing to … to do whatever. Not like the Lovers’ Lane when that striped truck pulls in—I’ve heard that trick doesn’t always work. There’s been times when a girl just ran away once she realized what the real deal was.
“But
this
place is different. It’s eyes-wide-open. Nobody gets played into coming there. They don’t even give girls a ride. And sex isn’t enough—the girls would have to be willing to do other things, too.
“Nobody just happens to wander into the back of a parking lot where all the lights have been cut down. There’s plenty of parking space right up close to the center during the day. So, if you drive around to the other side, where it’s
always
dark, it’s the same as … well, you know.”
“Yeah. That car, I’d want one as soon as I could get it. If they don’t want to lend one to you, there’s plenty of other ways, but they’d take more time.”
“I’ll be right back,” Dolly said. Meaning, she wanted any call she made to be private. “Why don’t you take Rascal out in the yard?”
S he came into the backyard in less than ten minutes.
“You can pick up the car tonight.”
“That’s great. Should I leave something for security, or would I be insulting them?”
“You’d be insulting them. But that won’t come up, anyway—I’ll drive you over in our Jeep, then just come back home later.”
“Do you know which one they’ll lend me?”
“No. I didn’t ask. And I think they have others, too. Does it matter?”
“Not really. I mean, I wouldn’t want something that really stood out, but, outside of that …”
“It’ll be fine,” she said, sounding confident. Then she made a soft whistling sound, and Rascal came bounding over to us. She asked him if he wanted to take a ride, and he went half crazy, like he always does when she asks.
T hey had three cars in their garage. A charcoal Lexus SUV, a red Mini Cooper, and a faded blue Facel Vega coupé that was mostly in pieces.
“That’s a real beauty,” I told them.
“You know what it is?”
“A Facel Vega, right? Can’t be that many of them left in the world.”
“Now you’re
never
going to abandon your project,” the taller one said to his partner. He turned to me. “Are you some kind of car nut, like Martin?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve just seen a car like this before. It looked new, the one I saw, but one of the guys I was with told me what it was. He said it had to be at least fifteen, twenty
“I’ll ask, Dell. When would you want it?”
I touched one of the red dots on Dolly’s map. A little strip of closed-down stores, right off the highway. When I’d asked her why she’d marked that spot, she told me it was a supermarket, but not one you could see. Behind the closed-down stores, you could buy dope—meth and pills, mostly—and other stuff: unregistered guns, bootleg CDs … just about anything a burglar could snatch.
Then I put my finger on another red dot, much bigger than all the others. Raised my eyebrows.
“That used to be a fast-food place, but it went out of business. Now it’s a day-care center. Fixed up very nicely, and I haven’t heard a wrong word about the people who run it.
“But after dark, the parking lot behind it is a different kind of hangout spot than the others. It’s run by kids—young men, really—who some of the girls think are so cool that they’re willing to pay an admission charge.
“Those … the people I’m talking about, they almost live outthere. At night, I mean. I don’t know what makes them so special, but they have their own thing going. Whatever that is, they don’t mix with anyone else. Not the way skinheads don’t mix with skateboarders, it’s much more than that—nobody in their right mind would just go over to them and ask them to join.”
“So why the big red dot?”
“Like I said, that gang has an admission charge. It’s sex. No girl would get a second look from them unless they knew she’d be willing to … to do whatever. Not like the Lovers’ Lane when that striped truck pulls in—I’ve heard that trick doesn’t always work. There’s been times when a girl just ran away once she realized what the real deal was.
“But
this
place is different. It’s eyes-wide-open. Nobody gets played into coming there. They don’t even give girls a ride. And sex isn’t enough—the girls would have to be willing to do other things, too.
“Nobody just happens to wander into the back of a parking lot where all the lights have been cut down. There’s plenty of parking space right up close to the center during the day. So, if you drive around to the other side, where it’s
always
dark, it’s the same as … well, you know.”
“Yeah. That car, I’d want one as soon as I could get it. If they don’t want to lend one to you, there’s plenty of other ways, but they’d take more time.”
“I’ll be right back,” Dolly said. Meaning, she wanted any call she made to be private. “Why don’t you take Rascal out in the yard?”
S he came into the backyard in less than ten minutes.
“You can pick up the car tonight.”
“That’s great. Should I leave something for security, or would I be insulting them?”
“You’d be insulting them. But that won’t come up, anyway—I’ll drive you over in our Jeep, then just come back home later.”
“Do you know which one they’ll lend me?”
“No. I didn’t ask. And I think they have others, too. Does it matter?”
“Not really. I mean, I wouldn’t want something that really stood out, but, outside of that …”
“It’ll be fine,” she said, sounding confident. Then she made a soft whistling sound, and Rascal came bounding over to us. She asked him if he wanted to take a ride, and he went half crazy, like he always does when she asks.
T hey had three cars in their garage. A charcoal Lexus SUV, a red Mini Cooper, and a faded blue Facel Vega coupé that was mostly in pieces.
“That’s a real beauty,” I told them.
“You know what it is?”
“A Facel Vega, right? Can’t be that many of them left in the world.”
“Now you’re
never
going to abandon your project,” the taller one said to his partner. He turned to me. “Are you some kind of car nut, like Martin?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve just seen a car like this before. It looked new, the one I saw, but one of the guys I was with told me what it was. He said it had to be at least fifteen, twenty
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