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Blindly, I picked up a video box and took it to the counter. I gave the clerk my video card and then a five. He gave me a buck and some coins in change. Carefully, I did not look out the window to my right.
I was given the video in a small, black plastic bag. I turned and walked to the front door. As I pushed the door open, I allowed myself to glance across the street. He was still there. Watching me.
Turning left, I walked down to Junipero. I turned to cross Broadway. The light was with me, so I stepped into the crosswalk. I looked both ways so that I could see what Hamlet was doing. He’d moved a few feet closer to me, now standing next to a blue Dodge Neon that looked like a rental. I hurried down Junipero and got into my Jeep.
Pretending to adjust the rear-view mirror, I checked to see if he’d come around the corner. He had. He was about twenty feet away. I turned the car on and then pulled out onto Junipero. In the mirror, I watched as he turned and ran back to his car.
I drove down 3rd, wondering what he might do next. Was he really going to try to come after me? There was a lot of traffic on Broadway to deal with, he’d never catch up. I immediately turned onto Lowena, which was L-shaped and fed onto 3rd. He wouldn’t know where I’d gone.
I zipped around to 3rd, where I encountered traffic. There were traffic signs at the intersection of Junipero and 3rd, but there was still traffic coming from three directions in a steady flow. I had to wait.
At Junipero, across from the big church, there was a cut-through that connected to 3rd. It required that you yield but not stop. Just as I might have had a chance to pull out, the Neon came through the cut-through and sped down the street toward me. I watched as he drove by me. For a brief moment, we looked at each other.
Deciding I couldn’t wait any longer, I pulled out onto 3rd and then took an almost immediate left—dangerously crossing traffic—into Carroll Park. The neighborhood was one of Ronnie’s favorites and we walked it frequently. The houses were all about the age of ours, though grander, and I could tell that Ronnie dreamed of owning one someday. The blocks were circular, and on the map you could see that the neighborhood was laid out as a lopsided 88.
I came in at the bottom of an eight, crossed across the middle, and drove along the top of the eight on the right. I was hoping there was an alley I could cut down and get to 4th without going back to Junipero. As I rounded the top of one eight, I realized there were no alleys. Only sidewalks and walkways smaller than a car. I hurried across the top of the second eight and found myself back on Junipero. I looked to my left, hoping the Neon hadn’t had time to turn around and look for me. I didn’t see it anywhere, so maybe it hadn’t.
Hurrying north on Junipero, I turned right when I got to 4th. I wanted to speed down the street as quickly as possible, but there was too much traffic. The neighborhood was primarily residential with a few businesses sprinkled along the way. I passed the Ralph’s we sometimes went to. I kept a close eye on my mirrors, waiting for the Neon to appear. My mind was going much faster than the Jeep. Did he know where I worked? Did he know where I lived? How had he found me?
No, he didn’t know either. He couldn’t. He’d found me by hanging around the intersection of Broadway and Junipero with its four or five popular businesses. And just then, as I waited at the red light at 4th and Redondo, I saw him pull up three cars behind me.
He’d found me. The light went green, and I turned north on Redondo. It was a wider street, two lanes on each side. In my mirror, I saw that he pulled into the left lane and was attempting to get closer.
My first impulse was to floor it and try to get away from him, but I realized I was better off if I didn’t seem to be running from him. He’d be easier to lose if he was uncertain whether I’d seen him or not. I continued down 4th, passing Loma, Termino, and finally getting to Ximeno. At that intersection, I turned left.
The blue Neon had gotten closer; not because he wanted to, but the cars between us had peeled off. I could tell he was moving slowly, hoping not to be noticed. The neighborhood we were in was very residential until we got to 7th Street. There I sat at a red light looking over at the high school. To my right a small strip mall. Ronnie and I owned a small house on Bennett just a block from the school.
The light turned and I went through the intersection, then up a slight hill and across Anaheim Street. The neighborhood was not as nice, a bit more industrial with some houses here and there. I passed Bally’s; the car wash was on my right. And then I was in the traffic circle. The whole reason I’d driven in this direction.
A Toyota Tercel had gotten between me and the Neon. I got in the innermost lane of the circle. Los Coyotes Diagonal was first, then Lakewood, then PCH going west, then Ximeno where I’d come in. I went around the full circle. The Tercel had veered off onto Lakewood. The Neon was still behind me. An old VW Beetle had gotten in front of it—that’s how slow he was going—and a minivan was in the outer lane. He was boxed in. Exactly what I’d been hoping for.
When Los Coyotes Diagonal came around again, I veered across the outer lane in front of the minivan, causing the driver to slam on their brakes and lay on the horn. I floored it. The Jeep sped down Los Coyotes. Never was I so grateful for the 6-cyclinder engine in what was basically a very small vehicle. When it needed to go, it did.
I hit sixty, getting lucky at the first light. It was green. I changed lanes a few times to get around slower traffic. I was afraid to look in my rearview mirror, though I was fairly certain the Neon had to make another trip around the circle. Just past Polly’s Pies, I zipped through a caution light. There wasn’t another light for a long way. Quickly, I covered the distance and got to the big intersection with Stearns and Clark. Red light.
The car in front of me had already stopped, so there was no way I could run the light. I waited there. Looking in the rearview mirror, I didn’t see the Neon. I doubted that he could move as fast as I could. He’d had to go around the circle again, and then if one of the first two traffic lights had stopped him, he’d be having a hard time catching up to—
The light turned. Still no sign of him. I got through and then was able to zip around the car in front of me. I was flooring it again, up to fifty, sixty, another long stretch without traffic lights. I knew exactly where I wanted to go. I just had to get through one more intersection, which was green. I flew through the intersection and then up the ramp to the 405 going south. There was no sign of the Neon. I’d lost him.
I upped my speed to seventy-five and flew down the 405. Before I knew it, I was at the intersection with the 605. I could have gone north for a while but kept going south. I could have gotten on the 22 and connected to 7th Street to go home, but I stayed on the 405. I’d lost him, but I wanted to really lose him.
I was nearly to Irvine before I felt comfortable turning around. It was almost seven thirty. I’d missed dinner. Ronnie was meeting with his clients in Rose Park.
Forty-minutes later I was back in Long Beach. I pulled up in front of our little house on Bennett. I parked across the street and for the first time in two hours allowed myself to breathe deeply.
The house was just four small rooms and a garage. Ronnie and I had bought it in 1993 for a hundred and forty-five thousand dollars. We’d only been seeing each other a few months, though Ronnie had been clear about what he wanted right from the start. When he asked me to move in with him, he explained the deal like this:
“I can use my commission as part of the down payment, then I have another five thousand I can put in, that brings us to about six percent down. If we can get to ten percent, I don’t think the two of us will have any problem getting a mortgage.”
“I can put in seventy,” I said.
“Seventy dollars? Are you trying to be funny?”
“I mean seventy-thousand.”
“You’re teasing. That’s not very nice.”
“I don’t want to be on the deed, so I can’t be on the mortgage.”
