The Ones That Got Away Page 16

  “Are you going to give me the money?

  “You have to answer my question first.”

  A big smile spread across Lolly’s face. “This is crazy. You don’t have to give me the money.”

  “I know I don’t have to, but if I did would you go?”

  Lolly covered her face with her hands and peeked out at Scott through her fingers. “Oh my God, are you really going to do this?”

  “Are you going to answer the question?”

  “I don’t even know if I could get in,” she said. “Where would I live? There’s so much I don’t know.”

  “You can figure all that out once you get there.”

  Lolly took a deep breath. She squinted at Scott, a questioning look on her face.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Why aren’t you answering the question?”

  She shook her head, then put her hands flat on the table. She sighed. “If I had the money, I would go to Colorado.”

  “Then I’ll give you the money.”

  Chapter 46

  October 1985

  The male voice boomed over the loudspeaker letting passengers know that it was final boarding call. Scott swiveled in his seat toward Lolly.

  “You’d better go.”

  Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Thank you for everything. You saved my life, and now you’re giving me a new life. I’ll never be able to pay you back.”

  “Go and live a good life. That will be payment enough.”

  Lolly stood and wiped at her eyes. “You’re such a good man. It’s too bad you’re gay.”

  Scott smiled. “You’d better go.”

  Lolly hugged Scott tightly and then walked to the gate. Scott watched as the attendant took her boarding pass. Lolly turned and waved, then she was gone.

  Now what? He had been distracted the past few days playing the good Samaritan, tending to Lolly’s needs and making sure that she was prepared for her new life. Staying busy and concentrating on Lolly’s needs kept his mind busy, but now he had to figure out what he was going to do with his life.

  He also had to come to terms with what he had done to Tony. Since he’d gotten to Vegas, he hadn’t allowed himself to think about it. Now, with Lolly gone, he knew he’d have to wrap his mind around the fact that he had killed a man.

  He went back to the Holiday Inn, changed into a swimsuit, and went out to the pool. There was a couple lying in chaise lounges across the pool from him, and a father with two kids splashing around in the water. He found a chaise away from everyone and spread out. The October sun was warm against his skin. He closed his eyes. It was time to think about what he had done.

  Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d ever kill someone. It was so far out of his expectations that he’d never even thought about it.

  He wondered if he had really gotten away with it. Was there any evidence tying him to Tony’s death? It had been three days, but as far as he knew, no one was after him. He needed to call Dean to ask him about it.

  What about Lolly? He didn’t think she would ever turn him in, but what if she did? Could she do that without implicating herself? All she could say was that Tony was about to kill her, so Scott hit him with the bat. If she said anything, she’d claim Scott saved her life.

  He shifted in his seat and thought about the scene in the alley. He still felt the crunch of the bat hitting Tony’s head, the sound of Tony’s body hitting the ground. But it wasn’t as vivid as it had been a couple of days earlier. Rather than making him nauseous, it just made him feel uncomfortable. That was progress.

  Maybe he was making too big of a deal out of this. On the one hand, he killed another man. That was a big deal. But on the other hand, he had prevented that man from killing someone else. If he was a soldier in war, or even a cop who came across Tony about to strike Lolly, he would have done the exact same thing, except with a gun. And it would have been justified, even expected. Wouldn’t a judge or jury see that? Was it really necessary to feel guilty about what he had done? He almost felt obligated, yet really didn’t feel bad about it. He didn’t want to ever talk about it with anyone, but that didn’t mean he had to feel guilty. He had done what he had to do under the circumstances. End of story.

  Scott opened his eyes. The couple across the deck from him had left, but the father and kids were still in the pool. He lay his head back and closed his eyes. Enough about Tony. The more pressing matter was what he was going to do with his life. He had money and freedom, what more could he ask for? He could travel, buy cars and boats and anything else he wanted. Problem was, he didn’t want anything. At least, nothing material. None of those things mattered when he didn’t have someone to share it with.

  That was the problem, wasn’t it? He had made a commitment. No relationships in this life. He didn’t want the complications and the headaches that went with a relationship. Even more, he didn’t want the heartbreak that occurred when the relationship ended. And he knew, no matter how good the relationship, it was bound to end.

  He thought about what Dean had said back in San Francisco. How Scott needed a woman who would be there when he wanted her and was willing to disappear when he didn’t. That wasn’t exactly what he had said, but it was close. Maybe Dean was right. But what kind of woman would want that kind of life?

  Scott opened his eyes and realized he had fallen asleep. The family was no longer in the pool, but two older couples were sitting in chaise lounges across the deck from him, drinking what looked to be mimosas and playing cards. Scott pressed his fingers into his arm and saw that the sun had turned his skin red. It was time to get out of the sun.

  Chapter 47

  January 1986

  Scott rented a furnished condo in a high rise on Las Vegas Boulevard overlooking the strip. It was too big, too expensive, and generally a waste of money. He justified it by thinking that he’d only be there a few months. Once the Super Bowl was over, he was gone. But when the Bears beat up on the Patriots at the end of January, he still wasn’t sure where he wanted to go.

  If he had a girlfriend, he could go almost anywhere, and he’d enjoy it. He’d be sharing the experience with someone, which seemed to make the experience worthwhile. Doing things by himself just didn’t appeal to him. Even so, he knew that taking on another relationship wasn’t the answer. He didn’t want a repeat of his previous lives.

  Once the Super Bowl money was in his pocket, he thought about going back to San Francisco. He was still leery about returning to the scene of the crime, but the truth was, he probably didn’t have anything to fear. Even so, it wasn’t just what happened with Tony that was keeping him away. Dean was living with Michelle. He didn’t want to intrude on their relationship by showing up unannounced and demanding their attention.

  When he loaded his few belongings into the car, he still wasn’t a hundred percent sure where he was going to go. He slid in behind the wheel and stared out the windshield. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here,” he said out loud. “Where should I go?” He opened a map of the United States and ran his finger across the page. “Los Angeles.” He wasn’t sure why he had chosen Los Angeles, but it made as much sense as anywhere else. He put the car in drive and eased out into traffic on Las Vegas Boulevard.

  *

  Pamela Arbor was a forty-something former beauty queen from Independence, Missouri, who had come to California to be a star. She had done a few commercials and had a small role in a movie Scott had never heard of, but she didn’t become a star. Instead, she had become a real estate agent.

  When Scott walked into her office, she sat at her desk looking bored.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for a long-term rental,” he said. “Maybe something in Laurel Canyon or the Hollywood Hills.”

  She looked doubtful. “Are you familiar with those areas? They can be expensive.”

  Scott said he was aware that the areas he had mentioned were expensive.

  “Are you an actor?” she
asked.

  “No.”

  She showed him pictures of two rentals they had available: one in the Hollywood Hills, the other in Universal City. Both places were dumps.

  “Would you like to see either one of these?”

  “Do you have anything nicer?”

  “We have a few in the area you’re interested in, but they’re very expensive.”

  “What was your name again?” Scott wasn’t angry, but his voice was stern.

  “Pamela.”

  Scott sat up straighter in his chair. “Pamela, you seem to have decided that because I look young, I can’t afford one of the nicer places you have available. Now, you may be right or you may be wrong, but you’ll never know unless you let me see the homes and tell me the price.” He smiled and sat back in his chair.

  Pamela seemed confused. She blinked her eyes several times before speaking. “I suppose you’re right.” She pulled out three folders from her desk drawer. She opened each one, showed Scott the photos of the homes, and told him the monthly rental amount.

  “I’d like to see that one.” Scott pointed at the most expensive of the three.

  The house sat on Laurel Canyon Boulevard. Just as with the condo in Las Vegas, the home was bigger than he needed. Even so, he really liked the house. It had been built in the 1920s and had been completely updated. The living room had wood beam ceilings, a big wood-burning fireplace, and French doors that led out to a patio with a spectacular view of the green, rolling hills of Laurel Canyon. This would be a good place to call home, at least for a while.

  “I’ll take it.” Scott stared out at the hills and surrounding homes.

  “You will?”

  He turned to face her. “Pamela, do you still doubt me?”

  “It’s not that. It’s just very expensive.”

  “It is. Can I have my bank wire you the money?”

  “You want the bank to wire the first and last month’s rent?”

  “I’d like to pay a year in advance so I don’t have to worry about it. Plus, that way you’ll get a year’s commission all at once. Will that work?”

  Pamela eyes widened. “Yes, that will work.”

  Chapter 50

  May 1986

  The party was at a sprawling ranch-style home on Mt. Olympus Drive, about a mile from the home Scott rented a few months earlier. When Pamela saw that Scott actually had the money to afford the home, she became much more friendly. She invited him to a couple different parties, and to dinner once. He always declined her invitation, using one excuse or another. But the truth was, he was bored. Other than Pamela, he didn’t know anyone in town. When she insisted that he come with her to the party, he finally agreed.

  It wasn’t clear if Pamela was just being a friend, introducing him to new people, or if she had romantic notions toward him. Not knowing made him uncomfortable. He wandered the party with her while she pointed out various actors, actresses, producers, directors, and studio moguls.

  At the bar, Pamela ordered champagne and Scott ordered a beer. The bartender poured the champagne into a long-stem glass, then wrenched the cap off a bottle of Heineken. Scott thanked him and dropped a twenty-dollar bill into the tip jar sitting on the bar.

  Pamela looked around at the house as if she wasn’t seeing the people. “This house would easily go for a million dollars or more if Ron decided to sell it,” she said. “He doesn’t even live here. He spends most of his time in Wyoming, on some ranch. He only comes here to do business and host parties.”

  “Who’s Ron?”

  “Ron Jacoby, the movie producer. Have you heard of him?”

  Scott shook his head.

  “He can be a jerk, but around here, he’s a pretty big deal.”

  Three young women came up to Pamela and gave her fake hugs, the kind that don’t require sincerity. They looked young, like they were barely out of their teens. Of course, that made them somewhere around Scott’s age.

  “We’re going to do some coke,” Pamela said. “Want to join us?”

  Scott hesitated. He had never done cocaine before. Not in this life or either of the previous two. The peyote he’d done in New Mexico with Tonya was the only hard drug he ever tried. What the hell? If this life was supposed to be about fun and adventure, why not snort a little coke? He raised his beer. “Lead the way.”

  *

  He gently touched his face with his index finger, first on one side of his nose, then the other.

  “What are you doing?” Pamela asked.

  “My face is numb.” He giggled, which made Pamela giggle.

  They were in a bedroom at Ron Jacoby’s house. The three young women who came into the bedroom with them had finished the coke and left. Scott and Pamela lay on the bed facing each other.

  “My nose kind of burns too, but in a good way.”

  “Have you ever snorted coke?”

  Scott shook his head. “Not before tonight.”

  Pamela gently touched his nose, then ran her index finger softly over his lips. “Want to do more?”

  “You have more?”

  “At my place.”

  “We should go.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him softly. She smiled. “Let’s go.”

  *

  They were naked, and neither of them could sleep. They both lay on their backs staring at the ceiling. Scott slid his hand back and forth on the satin sheets while Pamela told him about her life since moving to LA.

  “I thought I was going to be a star. Everyone back home said I had the look for films, whatever that means. But when I got here, I saw almost every young woman had the look. I could see the writing on the wall, so I got married. I remember thinking, if I can’t be a star, I might as well start a family. That marriage only lasted two years. The next one lasted five, but honestly, it was probably worse than the first.”

  Scott continued to rub the satin sheets. His body felt unusually powerful, like a train was running through him. They’d had sex three times already, but he was ready to go again. The combination of cocaine and a young body seemed to give him endless energy.

  “I decided then that I wasn’t cut out for marriage. Whatever it takes, I apparently don’t have it. But is that really true? Maybe I just haven’t met the right person yet.”

  Scott rolled over and positioned himself above her. “Want to go again?”

  “God, yes.”

  Chapter 51

  September 1986

  Pamela insisted that she wanted to come along when Scott announced he was heading to Las Vegas. He didn’t mind, not really. He looked forward to a little alone time on the trip, but having Pamela along would be fun too.

  Unlike his previous life, he decided to bet on the 1986 World Series. He missed his opportunity to bet on the winner before the season started, so he had to settle for the lower odds that went along with waiting until the World Series was about to start.

  Living in LA had turned out to be more expensive than anticipated. His home was expensive, dinners out were more expensive, basically, everything was more expensive. Even his new car, which Pamela had urged him to buy, was more expensive than any vehicle he ever owned. He had been driving the same Pontiac Grand Prix he’d had since college. It was getting old, but it still ran well. Even so, he gave into Pamela and bought a 1986 Porsche 959. It was sleek, incredibly fast, and utterly impractical as an everyday driver. Even so, Scott loved it. He had never owned a car that was so responsive and beautiful and expensive.

  He wasn’t running out of money. He was just spending it faster than he was comfortable with. So, he decided a bet on the 1986 World Series would help bolster his bank account.

  Pamela reached over and took his hand as he drove. She compared the smooth, youthful skin of his hand to hers, the skin beginning to wrinkle.

  “Doesn’t it bother you that I’m so much older than you?”

  Scott smiled. “Not at all. Does it bother you I’m so much younger?” Truth was, he didn’t see an age difference between them. In h
is mind, they were the same age. Pamela was the same age he had been when his life with Melanie ended. She was the same age as he was when he had last been with Kathy.

  “When you’re my age, I’ll be in my sixties.”

  This had become a common refrain with Pamela, but Scott didn’t share her concerns. They were friends and companions and sex partners, but they didn’t have a relationship. Because of that, Scott wasn’t concerned about their long-term viability or how they would handle their age difference in the future.

  “Why don’t we just worry about today and let the future take care of itself?”

  Pamela intertwined her fingers with his. “How did you become so wise at such a young age?”

  “I guess I’m an old soul.”

  *

  Scott stepped up to the counter in the Caesar’s Palace Sports Book. He decided to bet at Caesar’s because he didn’t want to deal with Ralph Fry when he won. The Red Sox were the favorite, but he knew the Mets would win the Series in seven games. The odds on the Mets to win were 8-to-5. He wasn’t used to betting on such low odds.

  “What are the odds to pick the winner and the number of games?”

  The cashier checked a sheet he had in from of him. 8-to-1 if you bet Boston, 10-to-1 if you bet New York.”

  “Let’s go with $50,000 on the Mets to win in seven.”

  The cashier nodded and printed out a ticket. “Good luck.”

  When he returned to their suite, Pamela was lying on the bed. She wore a hotel robe and was reading a magazine.

  “There’s a show tonight with a bunch of celebrity look-a-likes. They sing just like Sinatra or Cher or Madonna. Can we go?”

  “If that’s what you want to do, sure.”

  He sat on the couch. Pamela got off the bed and came to him. She undid her robe and straddled him.

  “I thought you wanted to get breakfast.”

  “That can wait,” she said.

  “Let me close the curtains first.”

  She kissed his lips and ground herself into him. “Leave them open.”