Silicon Beach Page 19

  “We make joint decisions, Katy. We have to plan financially for a grand old age for you, with your children, and your grandchildren. It all takes money, which means careful planning. Remember I’m 20 years older. And women live on average five years longer than men. I’m budgeting for twenty-five years sometime in the future without me, dear. I want to make sure you’re covered financially and can afford a respectable toy boy for fun and frolic in your old age.”

  “Judge… stop it. I don’t want to joke about that.”

  “What else, Katy?” asked the Judge.

  “I guess I get a little sad sometimes when I think about how we eloped for a quickie marriage in Las Vegas. No formal wedding. None of the excitement of shopping for a wedding dress. No showers with friends. No showing off my trophy catch. No bachelorette party. No ceremony in a church. All the stuff that a young girl’s fantasies are made of.”

  “I’m sorry about that Katy. But you wanted to move quickly for obvious reasons. I could have waited.”

  "No, no, it was the right thing to do. We’re bringing this little guy into the world. I didn’t want him to look back at pictures of his mom in her wedding dress with… with… with a… bump.”

  “There’s stuff I didn’t plan for either you know Katy. I suppose I had my own fantasies about what it would be like if I ever got married again.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well… like the baby for instance.”

  There was complete silence. Katy didn’t move. Just looked at the Judge. Stricken.

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, Katy,” the Judge said quickly. “It just came out. But you know we don’t have to do this if you don’t want.”

  “Do what?”

  “Have the baby.”

  “What are you saying?" she asked softly.

  “I'm just saying there are options in the first trimester.”

  "Go on."

  “Well, we never actually talked about having a kid. You just told me the situation and we decided to get married. And I love you dearly. I’d marry you again in a heartbeat. Under any circumstances.”

  “And?”

  “Do you ever wish there were more time for just us two, exploring each other, building memories together, before a kid arrives?”

  He could see the shock at the back of her eyes. Her arms swung across her belly, protecting it. She looked very… closed.

  “Don’t get me wrong, honey. I’m excited about the baby.”

  “Our baby, Judge.”

  “Yes. Our baby.”

  “It’s just. Just…. I’m just worried I’m not going to be much of a dad. I'm already 53. I'll be 54 when the kid arrives. Pretty old for a new dad. When the kid's 8 and wants to play soccer, I’ll be 62. Too old to coach. When it starts high school, I'll be 68 and collecting social security. When it starts college I'll be 72. By the time the kid hits 21, I'll be 75. Ready for a retirement home. And how am I going to relate to a kid when there’s such an age difference? We'll have nothing in common. Any ideas I have will sound old and tired. I'll be two generations ahead of him. Old enough to be his grandfather. And then there's the money issues,” continued the Judge. Plowing ahead despite the drop in temperature.

  “Go on.”

  “At 72, when the kid starts college, I’m likely going to be too old to work. Where will the money come from to put it through USC?”

  “You don’t want our baby, Judge?” She asked in a tiny voice, a small tear escaping from one eye. Looking scared.

  “Well… no. No, Katy. Of course I want the baby. It’s just… just. You’re going to have to help me a lot on being a dad. I’m going to lean heavily on you for advice. And you and the kid will have to appreciate there will be certain things I can’t do. Certain things I won’t understand. Certain things you’ll have to talk me through.”

  She took a deep breath and pulled herself together, standing unnaturally tall behind the galley bar.

  “You love me don’t you Judge?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re glad we’re married?”

  “Of course.”

  “You don’t want to re-think that?”

  “Never.”

  “I know this baby wasn’t planned, Judge. We didn’t discuss it ad nauseum and intellectualize it all out. It just sort of happened. But I have to believe it was meant to be. I know you’re a planner, Judge, you’re very intellectual. You’re very good at organizing things. It’s the way you run your life, your clients, Annie the dog, and now me. All very intellectual and carefully planned. And that’s all good, to a degree. But sometimes surprises like this come along that are just wonderful. They change your life. You have to let go of your organization and planning. You just have to take a chance. Jump in and make an emotional commitment. Like you did when you proposed to me. Our baby is going to be a wonderful thing for us both. I know it.”

  “You really think so? You really think I can hold up my end? Be a good dad?

  “Of course. And there are lots of things still to discuss about our child.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like boys names for instance. And which room he’s going to have in that dusty old house of yours. And shall we have a baby shower? Which kind of crib? What color are you going to paint his room for me? Can we afford help for a few days when I bring him home? What will Annie the dog think?”

  “You’re certain it’s going to be a boy?”

  “Yes, Judge. And here’s another question. Will you be there in your scrubs? In the room. When he’s born?”

  The Judge gulped. He hadn’t considered being in the room when it was born. He wasn’t at all sure he wanted that.

  “Besides, I know you Judge,” Katy went on. “You could never terminate our baby. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. It’d be saddest thing to do in the world.”

  “You sound like you’ve had experience, Katy.”

  “Some. I went with my best friend in college, Judge. With her and her boyfriend. To a dingy place in the valley one evening. She terminated her pregnancy there. They decided together to do it. They were very much in love. But they weren’t through school yet. There was no money. It just wasn’t practical. So they made what they thought was the right decision. For all the right reasons. And she asked me to come along.”

  “And…?”

  “She was very brave. He felt very guilty. He seemed smaller, shrunk into himself, sitting on that couch in the waiting room. She marched right in behind the closed doors, head held high, confident she’d made the right decision.”

  “Well there you go,” said the Judge.

  “It wasn’t like that 45 minutes later when they helped her out through those same swinging doors. She was sobbing. She couldn’t even look at her boyfriend. I think it wounded her soul. She wouldn’t ride home with him. I drove her home. They broke up the next week. Never saw each other again. And she was sad for a long time after that. It changed her somehow. In ways she hadn’t anticipated and couldn’t explain.”

  “Oh,” was all the Judge could manage.

  “But that’s not us, Judge. We’re having our baby and he’s going to be wonderful. Healthy and happy. And he’s going to look just like you. A damn Welshman. He’s going to be so much fun.”

  Katy put her chopping knife down and came around the galley counter to give the Judge a big hug.

  She said, “I love you so much. Ignore the things I said earlier about missing my old life. And my foolish young girl fantasies about marriage. All I care about is to be with you and make you happy.”

  They stood there for a long time. Holding each other tight. Until Annie the dog felt compelled to intercede, poking her muzzle between them, demanding a share of the affection.

  CHAPTER 28

  Noon Wednesday

  The Judge had busied himself in his office with client work all morning. Then he decided to skip lunch and to use the time for a stroll along the Venice Boardwalk. A good place to people watch, particularly in summer
. He took his car, allowed himself to be waved into a parking lot on Pacific Avenue near Mildred by a flag man chumming in vehicles, and walked the block and a half along 18th Avenue to the Boardwalk and its summer throng.

  He strolled north for a while, then reversed, walking south past 18th Avenue, watching the bikers, skaters, surfers, joggers, tourists, and homeless drifting by. It was a human stream meandering over concrete and sand in both directions. Everyone going somewhere. No one in a hurry. It was too hot.

  The Judge took a break, leaning against the fence surrounding the outdoor weightlifting area at the south end of Venice’s Gym on the Boardwalk. Hard bodies and spectators crowded around at this end of the Venice Beach Recreation Center called “Muscle Beach”, watching the active pumping iron in the California sun. The name was now generic for the numerous gyms and fitness studios in the area, including the original Gold’s Gym, where Arnold Schwarzenegger and other legendary bodybuilders pumped iron in the 1970s. The Judge looked up at the giant concrete barbell atop the roof of the Center and wondered how long it had stood. Had it ever fallen in one of the great L.A. earthquakes?

  As he watched, a more organized knot of people approached along the boardwalk. It was a “Right to Go Topless” demonstration. More parade then demonstration. Eight ladies in bikini bottoms, topless, mostly middle aged with boobs of assorted sizes, shapes and lift, and one looker, early twenties, pristine, marched down the Boardwalk with signs proclaiming their right to go topless like men. They were surrounded by a cadre of enthusiastic men, mostly younger, some also holding signs. A crowd of tourists following behind. Here and there piranha-like junior paparazzi darted around, snapping pictures.

  The Judge watched a stout lady take hold of her husband’s arm, wanting him by the ear, and steer him 180 degrees around in the opposite direction while he tried to crane his head back for another look. It was Venice in late June.

  The Judge stepped back under the shadow of an adjacent awning to be out of camera range. All he needed was his picture in the paper ogling boobs at the bare-breast parade.

  As he stood admiring the fauna, he felt a hand touch his arm. He looked around to see a young boy standing there. Perhaps twelve. Thin, oily black hair, deep tan, faded jeans, threadbare T-shirt from too many washings, disreputable Nikes. A faint slant to large brown eyes, suggesting Chicano linage somewhere, but mixed.

  He seemed part of the homeless that were everywhere these days. But he looked awfully young. Desperate people with young families usually got priority access to the limited shelter and counseling services. Their children were plucked from the streets and put in school.

  “Hi,” said the Judge.

  “Hi, mister. I seen you on the beach last week. You swim pretty good for an old guy.”

  The Judge swung around, the parade forgotten.

  “You saw me on the beach?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You saw those guys come after me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “Not my business, mister. I stay away from the police.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Marty.”

  “Hi Marty, people call me Judge.”

  “That’s a funny name. You go around judging stuff? Like surfing maybe? Or boobs?” Marty nodded at the parade disappearing down the Boardwalk.

  “No Marty. I’m a lawyer. I used to be a Judge on the Superior Court. Now I just practice law.”

  Marty imperceptibly moved back several inches, putting distance, regretting he’d opened his mouth.

  “I’m not going to call the police, Marty. Or the school people. Or whoever you’re worried about. I figure live and let live. You want to be out here watching a boob parade ‘stead of school. Why not. I might make a similar choice. In fact I have. I should be working, but I’m here.”

  Marty relaxed. Inched back a little closer.

  “You know a good place for ice cream around here?” the Judge asked. “It’s hot. I think I need ice cream.”

  It was the right button. Marty puffed right up. Pointed down the Boardwalk.

  “Just down there. The next corner. Monkee’s Burgers. They got the best stuff.”

  “I could buy you one too.”

  Marty looked suspicious. Measuring the Judge. Then shrugged his shoulders.

  “Sure. Follow me.”

  Marty turned his back on the parade and sauntered along the Boardwalk, the Judge in tow. Monkee’s Burgers turned out to be a small store in the middle of the Boardwalk shaded by a bright red awning, with garish pictures of the fast food it offered posted across its exterior, and large plastic soft-serve ice cream cones hanging from each corner of its awning. The pictures of the food made the Judge want to reach for his Tums. But Marty seemed happy with his joint.

  The Judge had an extra thick caramel shake, trying to ignore the small voice inside berating him for the breach of his diet. The young man had a triple scoop with three toppings and lots of gummy bears. It looked like a dentist’s dream.

  They found a bench to sit down and ate quickly, racing the sun trying to turn the ice cream to slush.

  “So can you tell me a little about what you saw on the beach, Marty?”

  “Why? I ain’t telling the police or no one. I could get hurt.”

  “I’ve got a fifty dollar bill in my wallet. It’s yours if you’ll tell me all that you saw.”

  Marty’s eyes narrowed. The avarice there was clear. Fifty dollars would go a long way on the streets.

  “No one will know I talked to you? No one. No police?”

  “No police.”

  “Let’s see the fifty.”

  The Judge brought the bill out of his wallet and laid it between them, putting his empty shake container on top to emphasize his position.

  Marty sent a sticky hand across the table for it, but the Judge nodded no. Waiting.

  “It was pretty dark. Didn’t see much. There was four of them I think. Two coming up behind you, one coming from the land side, and one ahead. I saw one of them earlier, watching you from up the street behind you. On his cell phone. Looked to be following you. You walked past another one when you walked onto the sand.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “They kinda spread out around you. Then ran at you.”

  “And then?”

  “Shit, you punched one of them. Broke his nose. Then you dived in the water. Pretty smart.”

  “How far away were you?”

  “I was hanging out in the lifeguard stand. Smoking. I could see okay.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “They huddled there for a minute on the sand where you went in. One was on his cell phone, looking up the beach toward the pier. One took his shoes off and waded into the surf up to his waist. Pulled out your pants.

  “How do you know the guy’s nose was broken?”

  “Uh… I just heard. You know. You just hear things.”

  “I don’t know Marty. Who were these guys who attacked me?

  “How would I know? Just some guys on the beach.”

  “Then how do you know the one guy’s nose was broken?”

  “Well, maybe I don’t. Just guessed maybe.”

  The Judge looked at the fifty under his plastic cup. Pressed the cup down harder on to the bill. Marty watched, licked his lips. The bill was important. Almost within grasp.

  “Who were they, Marty?”

  Marty looked around the bench, up and down the boardwalk. Lots of tourists. No one was close. No one was paying them any attention.

  “There’s this gang. Hang out with the homeless people. But not really homeless. Or maybe homeless but not really poor. Don’t know. Anyway, they hire out to do stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “I hear they collect money. Beat people up. Steal stuff. Rob houses, jack cars. They can snuff somebody. You pay, they’ll do anything you want.”

  “These guys are the ones attacked me?”

  “I think so.�
��

  “What’re their names?”

  Marty leaned low across the table to whisper.

  “The black one’s called Juno. The white guy whose nose you broke, he’s Arty. I don’t know the other two.”

  “What do they look like?”

  “Like I said, Arty’s a white guy. Juno’s black. There’s a Latino, like me, and an Asian. I think the Asian’s the leader. They’re all old guys. Old enough to drink. But they don’t surf very well.”

  The Judge thought how relative age was, depending on which end of the barrel you looked through. ‘Old’ to Marty was ‘kids’ to him. He supposed he was way too old to surf well.

  “How do you know about Arty’s broken nose?”

  “People talk on the street. I just heard somewhere.”

  “How do you know these guys have money?

  “You kidding? People pay them for stuff all the time. They dress up like they’re poor, but I’ve seen them on the beach, drinking Jack, smoking joints, roasting marshmallows, throwing out bills to girls. They all got fancy cell phones. Seen them pile into their own SUV and roar away. They hang out during the day with the street people. Dress down. But they go somewhere fancy to sleep.”

  “You know where?”

  “No.”

  “Where can I find them during the day?”

  Marty looked worried again. He had said more than he’d intended.

  “This fifty will go aways, Marty. It’s yours. And a second fifty later if you help me. No one will know. Can you ask around and find out where they hang?”

  The Judge lifted his plastic cup and a grubby hand shot forward to retrieve the bill, retracting at once into a worn pocket.

  “I got to be going now, Judge. But I’ll see what I can find.”

  Marty slid from the bench out on to the Boardwalk, disappearing into the throng like a pebble into a stream.

  CHAPTER 29

  2:00 PM Wednesday

  The Judge had an afternoon meeting with a possible new client who had called out of the blue. You never knew when the next gig was coming, or from where. But after practicing law for a number of years and doing the best you could for clients, you built a reputation and clients just seemed to come.