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“So how does this other guy know about my letter?”
“My friend told him.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Maybe you should have your friend explain it to me!” She stood up. “You’re just another hustler. Anything for money.”
“What do you know about money?” Armpit asked. “You don’t have a clue. You say you want to just sing in places like this and pass around the hat. You wouldn’t know how to live like that. Here, buy a jacket. Only a thousand dollars. Charge it to your room. You wouldn’t have a clue.”
“Oh, I don’t have a clue?” asked Kaira. She stood up. “I just have one question,” she said. “Who was it who kissed me? You, or your friend?”
She picked up her cup and tossed the contents at him, splattering him with coffee and cream.
Several people applauded. A woman in red leather said, “You go, girl!”
She did just that. Right out the door.
Armpit sat there a moment, wiping himself with a napkin as he tried to figure out why Kaira thought X-Ray had kissed her.
32
It was a long walk back to the hotel. Kaira was nowhere to be seen, and he supposed she’d taken a cab. He doubted she had any cash on her, but when she got to the hotel she could probably call somebody to come down and pay the driver.
He headed back up through Chinatown. He wasn’t exactly sure of the way, but he knew the general direction. The streets were steeper than he remembered, and after a while he had to take off his coffee-stained sweatshirt and tie it around his waist. He carried Ginny’s present in a
flat paper bag.
He wondered whether he should try to talk to Kaira when he got back to the hotel, or wait a day, or maybe just fly back to Austin. It would be pretty weird spending the weekend in the hotel with her hating him and everybody on the tour knowing about it. Maybe just write her a note.
He’d thought asking her to write the second letter was such a great plan, but now it just seemed so lame. What good would it have done? Detective Newberg was smart. She’d eventually figure out he was Armpit, whether Felix told her or not.
He had tried to take too big a step, and the current had knocked him off his feet and was washing him away. All his efforts, at school and at work, were for nothing. X-Ray would most likely go to jail, and he probably would too.
For what? The whim of a rich and famous girl.
He had thought he’d made a real connection with her, but what did he know? It wasn’t that long ago that he’d thought he made a real connection with Tatiana. The truth was, half the girls at school could have easily won his heart. It wouldn’t have taken all that much; just a smile and he’d be hooked.
But would he have thrown his life away for one of them, or was it just because Kaira was rich and famous? He had mocked her for wanting to charge a thousand-dollar jacket to her room, but maybe that was the reason he came to San Francisco, to live that kind of highfalutin life.
No, it was more than that. At least, he thought it was more than that. He didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know nothing about nothing.
And he had told her she didn’t have a clue! I’m the one who’s clueless.
He took a deep breath. The cool ocean air mixed with the exotic smells of Chinatown. There was something special about being in a strange place, all alone in a mass of people, even if you had just screwed up your life, or perhaps especially if you had just screwed up your life.
He stopped and bought some kind of steamed bun, still piping hot, from a Chinese vendor who didn’t speak English. The dough was made of rice flour, and it was soft and spongy on the outside. Inside was some of the best roast pork he’d ever eaten.
He was reminded of the speech for Wilbur the Pig. “He’ll bring about world peace, and if he doesn’t, everyone will get a ham sandwich.”
I may have ruined my life, Armpit thought, but at least I got to eat some really good Chinese food.
Fred moved with determination along the pedestrian walkway on the Golden Gate Bridge, oblivious to the dirty glances from slow-walking tourists as he elbowed his way past them. His face had the look of pained urgency. He had never lost Kaira before.
Every walker on the bridge, every driver in a car represented danger. Although, really, what worried him the most wasn’t some wild-eyed stranger. Sure, Theodore Johnson seemed like a good kid, but what did they know about him? Not much, except that he had a violent criminal history.
Fred made his way past the first tower on the bridge and was able to get a good view of the people up ahead. He spied a person wearing a red sweatshirt, but the person walking next to the red sweatshirt had on a yellow jacket and was too tall.
