sidewayz glory Page 7

They stopped at Angelita’s locker. Inside was a photo of Viggo Mortensen. The locker itself was neat and clean, the books stacked in an orderly fashion. As Angelita reached into her locker, a smile grew slowly on her lips. “I’m impressed. There aren’t many guys around here who’d know that. What else?”

  “Replace the suspension bushings because they’re probably shot from age,” Kennin said. “Throw in a full coilover suspension. Upgrade the brake system.”

  Angelita’s smile became broader. “So what’s stopping you?”

  “Money,” Kennin said. “It would take a lot. Second, the thing’s a rusty piece of junk. Third, she’d never agree to let me drift it.”

  “Have you asked?”

  “No.”

  “Suppose you did?”

  “I have to think about it first,” Kennin said.

  “So maybe it’s not just about the car?” Angelita asked.

  Kennin didn’t answer. The bell rang and the hall began to clear out.

  “Don’t you have to get to your next class?” Angelita asked.

  “Study hall,” Kennin said with a shrug. “You?”

  “I’ve got a free,” she said. “I’ll walk with you.”

  They started down the hall, taking their time. “You know the other day, on the front steps,” Kennin began to say.

  “I know,” Angelita quickly cut him off. “She was just giving you a ride to the hospital. To get the cast off.”

  “It was the only way I could get there,” Kennin said.

  “You don’t have to explain,” Angelita said. “I think I’ve figured out what’s going on. My brother told you that you weren’t good enough for me, and that made you mad.”

  Kennin didn’t answer.

  “He only did that because he loves me,” Angelita said. “I know we rag on each other a lot, but that’s just dumb brother and sister junk, you know?”

  Kennin nodded It was that way between him and Shinchou.

  “I’II be the first one in my family to go to college,” Angelita said. “That’s a huge thing for us. Tito really wants me to go. What he really doesn’t want is to see me mess up my life at the age of eighteen like our mom did. You can understand, right?”

  “Yes,” Kennin said.

  “Frankly, I’d prefer my brother didn’t stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, but at least I understand why he does it.”

  Kennin wondered how understanding Angelita would be if she knew Tito had loosened those lug nuts.

  “Guess you’ll be leaving for California soon,” he said.

  Angelita nodded and stared at the hallway floor.

  “Ever been there before?” Kennin asked.

  “No.”

  “You won’t believe it. I mean, a lot of it’s kind of ugly, like every place else,” Kennin said. “But other parts … especially near the ocean … You gotta promise me you’ll watch the sun set over the ocean. You can’t imagine how beautiful it is. Out there people are so used to it, a lot of them don’t even bother, but it’s amazing. So you gotta promise me, okay?”

  Angelita nodded but wouldn’t look at him. She pulled a tissue out of her bag and dabbed her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Kennin asked.

  “Nothing,” she answered. “I just got something in my eye. That’s all.”

  Kennin stopped outside his study hall. Angelita had finished dabbing her eyes, but they were still red. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Whatever it was, I got it out.”

  “Later,” Kennin said and went in.

  Angelita watched him go. There’d been nothing other than tears in her eyes, of course. And they both knew it.

  The day was over. Kennin was at his locker.

  “Ready?” someone said.

  He turned and found Tito.

  “Oh yeah, can’t wait,” Kennin answered, picturing himself standing on the pegs of Tito’s BMX bike while Tito pedaled through Las Vegas traffic.

  “Hey, don’t kid yourself,” Tito said. “I get there faster on my bike than you do by bus.”

  Outside school, Tito’s chrome BMX was chained to the bike rack. Kennin gazed wistfully down the block toward the bus stop, as if somehow a bus would magically appear.

  “What’s up?” It was Mariel in her red IS300, at the curb.

  “On my way to work,” Kennin said.

  “Doesn’t look like you’re in a hurry,” Mariel said.

  “The buses are on strike,” Kennin said.

  “Then how are you going to get there?” she asked.

  Tito unlocked his BMX and walked it over to Kennin. “Here we go, dude.”

  In the car, Mariel smiled. “You’re going to work on that?”

  “I sit on the seat and pedal while he stands on the pegs,” Tito explained.

  Mariel pursed her lips and swung her blond hair away from her face. “I’m going downtown. I could give you a ride.”

  “You sure?” Kennin asked.

  “Are you whack?” Tito said, getting on the BMX. “Given the choice between my pegs and those wheels? I’ll see you at the Babylon.” He rode off down the sidewalk.

  Kennin got into Mariel’s car.

  “Can I ask you a favor?” he said as she started to drive. “Could you be the one person today who doesn’t ask me if I’m going to try out for the drift team?”

  “Sure.”

  They drove in silence for a little while, and then Mariel asked, “How are you getting to school if there’s a bus strike?”

  “The buses run. Just not that often,” Kennin said. “If you wait long enough one comes.”

  “You weren’t in Mr. Winchester’s class this morning,” Mariel said. “Of course, you’re usually not there even when the buses do run. So what time did you get to school today?”

  “End of fifth period.”

  Mariel turned and looked at him. “And how are you going to get home tonight after work?”

  “I’m gonna ask Tony, the head of valet parking, if he can give me a ride,” Kennin said.

  “And what about school tomorrow morning?” Mariel asked.

  “I don’t know. Same as today, I guess.”

  They were on the strip now, and could see the Babylon up ahead.

  “You could stay at my house,” Mariel suddenly said.

  This caught Kennin by surprise. He stared at her. “You think your parents would go for that?”

  “They don’t care,” Mariel said. “You know the cabana outside by the pool?”

  Kennin remembered it from the party where Cousin Raoul had pulled a knife to keep Kennin from tearing Ian’s head off. Normally, he would have refused the offer. It would cause nothing but trouble. But if he went home tonight he faced three problems. Two of them—not having money for the rent and not having a way to get to school tomorrow—might not kill him. But the third—Jack—just might.

  “That’s a really nice offer,” Kennin said. “Suppose I accept. This isn’t something you’d be telling anyone, right?”

  “Not if you don’t want me to,” Mariel said.

  “And how would I get to your house tonight after work?”

  “What time are you finished?” Mariel asked.

  “Midnight.”

  Mariel smiled. “See you then.”

  13

  Kennin in at the parking garage, Tony came out of the valet office with a casino security guard in a gray uniform. Tony had a serious look on his face. “Mr. Mercado wants to see you.”

  “Why?” Kennin asked.

  “You got me.” Tony gestured to the guard. “Joe’ll take you into the casino.”

  Kennin followed the security guard inside and past the public elevators to the small private one that required a key. They rode up to the penthouse in silence. The elevator stopped and the doors opened into a dark-wood-paneled office. Laney, an attractive blond woman wearing glasses, sat at a desk typing on a silver laptop computer. She smiled at him. “Please take a seat, Kennin. Mr. Mercado will be right with y
ou.”

  Kennin sat down on a small couch. Hanging on the wall opposite him was a brightly colored painting of Formula One Grand Prix cars careening around a curb in a splash of brilliant hues. Kennin had never seen a painting of racing cars before. He got up to take a closer look.

  “You like it?” a voice asked.

  Kennin turned to find Mike Mercado in the doorway. He was wearing blue slacks, a white shirt, a red tie, and blue suspenders.

  “Yes,” Kennin answered.

  “It’s by LeRoy Neiman,” Mercado said. “Ever heard of him?”

  Kennin shook his head.

  Mercado smiled, “Well, come on in. You want anything?”

  “I’m fine, thanks,” Kennin said, and followed Mercado through the large dark wooden doors and into his office. Kennin had been in the office once before, but the size of it still amazed him. It was lined with dark red curtains and must have taken up at least half of the top floor of the casino building.

  Mercado led Kennin to the easy chairs in the front of a huge flat-screen TV. On the other side of the room was a Ping-Pong table, and against the wall stood an enormous fish tank filled with colorful tropical fish. In the middle of the office was a sleek red and white motorcycle. On Kennin’s last visit Mercado had told him it was a Ducati Desmosedici, the fastest production motorcycle in the world.

  “Still haven’t taken it for a test drive?” Kennin asked.

  “No way,” Mercado said. “I value life too highly. Especially mine.” They sat down in the chairs. “How’s the leg?”

  “Better, thanks.”

  “Strange for a wheel to break off like that right at the beginning of a run, isn’t it?” Mercado asked.

  Kennin nodded.

  “Of course, if that had happened on our new track instead of up in the mountains, there wouldn’t have been nearly as much damage,” Mercado said. “I doubt you’d have even been hurt.”

  Kennin knew that Mercado hadn’t invited him there to remind him of the dangers of drifting on dark mountain roads.

  “Derek tells me you’re reluctant to get involved with our new project,” the casino owner said. “Is it because of the crash?”

  Not wanting to say one way or the other, Kennin shrugged. “The car’s trashed.”

  “Anything else you can drive?” Mercado asked.

  “Maybe,” Kennin said, thinking of Shinchou’s Corolla. “But the vehicle I’m thinking of needs a lot of work.”

  Mercado rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Would five thousand be enough?”

  Kennin blinked. For a moment he wondered if he’d heard the casino owner correctly. “Sorry, sir?”

  “Five thousand dollars to get this other car running,” Mercado repeated.

  That time Kennin knew he’d heard him right. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, sir, but why me?” he said. “I mean, I already know you got me out of a lot of trouble because of the crash. And now you want to give me all this money.”

  Mercado cocked his head curiously. “And you want to know what I want in return for my five thousand bucks? I want a good-looking kid with a charismatic personality who happens to be a great drifter to bring a lot of excitement to our new drift track. I think that’s worth five grand, don’t you?”

  Kennin ran his fingers through his hair. “Like I said before, sir, it’s a fantastic offer and I really appreciate it. I just need some time to think. A lot’s happened lately.”

  Mike Mercado’s eyebrows dipped, and Kennin could see that the casino owner was disappointed. “I’d think you would have had enough time by now. Derek tells me he spoke to you about the team weeks ago.”

  “I know, sir,” Kennin said. “It’s not easy to explain. I just need a little more time.”

  Mercado frowned and stood up. “All right, Kennin. You think about it and let me know.”

  Kennin got up, and Mercado walked him to the door.

  “I guess a crash like that could shake you up, huh?” Mercado said as he held open the door.

  “It can have that effect, sir,” Kennin replied, and went out.

  The security guard escorted Kennin out of the casino. Tony was standing outside the valet parking office with Tito when Kennin returned. Tito had his BMX and had just gotten there.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, no problem,” said Kennin.

  Tony appeared relieved, and for a moment Kennin wondered if he knew something Kennin didn’t.

  “Okay, go change into your uniform,” Tony said. “We got some cars to wash.”

  “Tony said Mercado wanted to talk to you,” Tito said in the locker room while they changed. “What’s up?”

  “He wanted to know why I haven’t joined the team,” said Kennin.

  “He’s not the only one,” said Tito.

  “I told him I’d let him know,” Kennin said.

  Tito stared at him in wonder. “You told Mike Mercado you’d let him know? Dude, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Kennin hoped so too.

  They were busy washing cars for most of the evening. Around eleven. Tony came out of the valet office. “Okay, guys, I’m heading out. Make sure everything’s locked up when you leave, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Fifteen minutes later Tito’s cell phone rang. “Yeah?Hey, where ya been, Raoul? What? Crap! How would I know? I thought you were in the frickin’ gardening business! Okay, okay, hold on for a second!”

  Tito quickly turned to Kennin. “It’s Raoul. He did it again. Boosted a car with LoJack. He figures he’s two minutes ahead of the cops and he wants to know what to do.”

  “Have him bring it here,” Kennin said.

  “Are you crazy?” Tito gasped.

  14

  go up to the fifth level,” Kennin said, “and make sure he parks between two cars.”

  Tito’s jaw dropped. “I get it! With all the cars in this place, it’ll take the cops forever to work their way up!”

  Kennin pointed at the phone. “He’s running out of time.”

  Tito pressed the phone to his ear. “Raoul? Bring the car to the Babylon. The parking garage. Go up to the fifth level and park between some cars.”

  Tito was just about to disconnect when Kennin thought of something else. “Ask him if he’s wearing his driving gloves.”

  “Huh?” Tito scowled at him.

  “Just do it,” Kennin urged.

  “You wearing gloves?” Tito asked into the phone. “No?”

  “Okay, just tell him to get here fast,” Kennin said.

  A moment later Tito flipped the phone closed.

  “Let’s go,” Kennin said as he tossed some chammies into a bucket and headed for the stairs.

  “We’re gonna wash the car?” Tito asked, confused.

  “No, we’re gonna wipe the prints. Your cousin’s been in jail, remember? It’s not enough to just ditch the car. We have to get rid of the evidence, too.”

  “We gotta run up five floors?” Tito asked.

  “You know a better way to get up there?” Kennin asked back.

  “Yeah, the elevator,” Tito said.

  “We’re not allowed in the casino without permission,” Kennin said. “Mr. Mercado wouldn’t want to hear that his two car washers were in the elevators on their way upstairs to wipe a stolen car.”

  “Dude, can I ask you a question?” Tito huffed and panted as they climbed the stairs. “How do you know about all this stuff? Like wiping cars and crap. What were you back in Pasadena, a professional car thief?”

  “We’ve still got three floors to go,” Kennin answered. “Better save your breath.”

  The fifth floor was only half-filled with cars. There were plenty of open spaces for Raoul to stick the vehicle he’d stolen.

  “I have to hand it to you, Kennin,” Tito said as he caught his breath from climbing the stairs. “This is frickin’ brilliant. LoJack may be good horizontally, but it don’t work so good vertically. The cops are gonna have to go through four floors’ wort
h of cars before they get here.”

  “Unless they decide to start at the top and work their way down,” Kennin reminded him.

  Tito’s eyes bulged. “Oh, crap, that’s right!”

  They could hear the sound of screeching tires in the distance, gradually growing louder.

  “So what happened to Cousin Raoul’s gardening business?” Kennin asked.

  Tito shrugged. “Guess it was too much work for not enough money. The last time I saw him, he complained that he was clearing eight hundred a week busting his hump in the sun all day. He said boosting cars he could make the same amount in a couple of hours.”

  The screech of skidding tires and the wail of police sirens were growing louder.

  “Crime pays well until you get caught,” Kennin said.

  “You speaking from experience?” Tito asked.

  There was a loud skidding squeal below them as a car raced into the parking garage. They listened to the engine rev as it climbed the ramps toward the top level. Kennin reached into the bucket and tossed Tito a chammie. “You take the outside. Door handles, window frames, trunk, anything you think Raoul might have touched. I’ll get the inside.”

  Tito started to look excited. “What do you think it’ll be, huh? Another GTO? Or a ’vette? Maybe a Benz or a Beemer?”

  From the sound of the exhaust, Kennin already knew it was Japanese and a four-cylinder. A second later a red Camry swung around the corner and sped up toward them.

  “A Camry?” Tito sounded disgusted.

  As soon as Kennin saw the car, he knew Raoul was working for a professional ring. Tito’s cousin wasn’t out for a joyride this time. Camrys were stolen for one reason: to sell to chop shops, where they could be dismantled and the parts sold for considerably more than the car was worth.

  Kennin waved at Raoul to park between a Benz and a Volvo. Tito’s cousin screeched the car to a stop and jumped out. Raoul was an older guy with short-cropped brown hair. His eyebrows, ears, and lip were pierced, and both arms were almost entirely covered with dark sleeves of tattoos. “Guys, I don’t know how to thank you!”

  The sound of more squealing tires came from below as the cops arrived.

  “Figure it out someplace else,” Kennin said. “Right now, just get the hell out of here.”