Chapter 5
Just as I slid into bed Saturday night the phone rang.
"Hello?" My tone was a little harsh, expecting an
impatient
client on the other end.
"Guess I'm calling at a bad time, huh?"
"Who is this?" I knew exactly, but I wanted to keep him
on
his toes.
"It's Steve Sloan."
"I thought you said you'd call Sunday."
He must have counted to ten before he responded.
"You want me to call back in an hour?"
"I'm sorry." I sighed heavily into the phone.
"It's been a
very long day." Spent relaxing on the beach and soaking up
the
sunshine.
"I was hoping we could take a drive tomorrow, but maybe
you're not up for it."
"As long as I don't have to think, it sounds
wonderful."
"No thinking required."
There was a loud crash in the background on his end and
shouting.
"Are you at Bob's? What's going on? Maybe you should hang
up and take care of it."
"No." His tone was totally relaxed. "I'm at the
station.
Nothing that concerns me. I've still got a pile of paperwork to
finish here and I needed a little pick-me-up before I got
started."
"Maybe you'll be too tired..."
"No, I'll be fine in the morning. I need a change of
scenery. I'll pick you up at ten and we can go to the zoo."
"No." The word was out before I could stop it. It left
no
doubt as to my opinion on that idea.
"Well." Steve paused a moment, digesting that one word,
or
trying to decide how to respond, I'm not sure which.
"I take it the zoo is out then. Why?"
"Animals weren't meant to be caged."
"You haven't been to a zoo in a while, have you? They don't
cage animals anymore, Sarah. Zoos are-"
I couldn't yet unclench my teeth, but I cut him off anyhow.
"I know what zoos are, Steve. The answer is no. You can't
change my opinion on this, so can we just move on to another
idea?"
Again silence from the other end of the phone.
"You have any place particular in mind?"
"I don't live here, remember? You're supposed to be the one
with all the good ideas."
Steve let a heavy sigh come across the telephone lines.
"Maybe this was a bad idea all together. Look, if you feel
like going for a drive tomorrow, or having a picnic, or
something, give me a call."
"Steve wait!" I called out, hoping to catch him before
he
hung up in frustration.
There was silence on the other end, no dial tone so I knew
he hadn't hung up. But I asked anyway.
"You still there?"
"Yeah." His tone made it obvious he wasn't happy about
it.
"This whole phone call is going all wrong. And it's my
fault, I know. I'm sorry. I'd like to go back, if you don't
mind that is, to Griffith Park."
"Sarah." He said my name quite slowly as though he were
speaking to a small child. "Griffith Park is the zoo."
"It is? Well, I don't remember seeing it last time. I want
to go back to the tower."
"The Observatory," he corrected.
"Yeah, that." If I was going to let him win, might as
well
let him win big time. "And a picnic sounds good. Can I fix
it?"
I could almost hear him shaking his head.
"Got it all under control, don't you worry about a
thing."
A thought jumped into my head and out of my mouth before I
could stop it.
"You're not bringing left over Bar B Que Bob's are
you?"
He laughed. "I thought you were addicted. No, that wasn't
what I had in mind. It'll be a surprise. See you at ten."
The
last two sentences ran together in a rush. There was another
loud commotion on his end of the conversation as he hung up, and
I decided this time whatever the ruckus, it was his concern.
When I opened the door the next morning, precisely at ten to
my astonishment, Steve's look let me know I had chosen the
correct wardrobe. The red leather mini-skirt, white ankle socks,
red tennis shoes and sleeveless white blouse, brought more than a
glance of casual approval to his face.
"I had an idea," he said cautiously as we clambered
down the
steps of the apartment complex.
"Oh?" There was a note of distrust in my voice.
"You can veto it if you like. Last night I was writing up
my report and got to the part about the street being under
construction and I thought, hey I bet Sarah hasn't been to the
tar pits."
He looked at me with the question on his face as he lifted
me into the truck.
I waited until he got in on his side to reply with an
astonished, "The what?"
"La Brea Tar Pits."
"Now, why would I want to go watch tar being made for
criminy's sake? Is that what you did for fun as a teenager?
Geez, no wonder you became a cop, for the excitement."
Before I finished Steve's chuckle had turned to outright
laughter. I frowned at him.
"Now, what did I say that is so funny?"
He shook his head, trying to gain control of his mirth. I
crossed my arms leaned back against the door and waited for a
reply with a stern look on my face.
After a few more moments, he settled down enough to speak.
"The tar pits are an archeological dig and museum, from the
Ice Age. Saber tooth tigers, creatures like that, got stuck in
the tar and the fossils remain."
"Oh."
"I'm sorry I laughed. It's just one of those things, I'm so
used to it, grown up around here. It never occurred to me that
someone might not know what it was."
"You," I emphasized the word. "You mentioned
street
construction."
He looked baffled at first, then smiled. "I did, didn't
I?"
There was silence in the cab of the truck for a long moment.
"Well, you want to check it out, or shall we stick to your
original idea?"
I reached for my seat belt and scooted over on the seat
bench.
"I think the Tar Pit sounds exciting. Well, different at
least."
Steve started up the truck. "The tar pits it is then."
Just down the block from the George C. Page Museum, which I
learned was the proper name for the tar pits, was an art museum.
Steve saw me perk up as we drove past it, so after we did the
ancient world, we stepped down the street and spent a couple
hours in the art world.
I really did find the Page museum fascinating in spite of
myself. But the art works were wonderful. I think Steve enjoyed
both as well. At any rate neither of us mentioned food until we
stepped out into the bright sunshine upon leaving the museum.
"It's almost three, you hungry?" Steve looked at his
watch.
"Three! Heavens! I had no idea. You must be starved."
He shook his head. "I had a big breakfast."
I tucked my arm through his and started heading back toward
the truck.
"You know, I also saw a farmers' market down the block.
Could we stop by there after lunch?"
"Why not now? You might see something you want to add to
our simple repast."
I looked up at him. "Repast? Expanding our vocabulary at
night are we?"
"Hey, I'm not just a big dumb cop, I'll have you know."
We were at the truck and he unlocked the passenger side
door, reached into the small seat area behind the front seats and
pulled out a wicker picnic basket. He set the basket on the
sidewalk and reached in again, this time producing a folded up
piece of blue checked cloth which he handed to me.
Shutting the truck door and picking up the basket again he
nodded north and I started moving in that direction.
"I have a college degree." His tone was more
informative
than defensive.
"It was a joke, Steve."
"I know. I was just expanding your knowledge of my personal
history."
If he'd meant the hint to be subtle, he'd missed the mark by
a long shot. It made me uneasy though because it meant he was
beginning to notice the dearth of information I was handing out
about myself in this little "relationship."
"I bet you played football, too didn't you?"
He laughed. "That obvious, is it?"
I could give a little here. "I wanted to be on the girl's
soccer team. Actually I made the team in tenth grade, but as
soon as I did, they moved me to another foster home in another
school district. That team was already full."
He gave a sympathetic shake of his head and muttered
something about it being a shame.
"You really should sit down sometime and talk with Amanda. I
think you two would have a lot in common."
The last thing I wanted to do was chat with some rich bitch
doctor who'd managed to stay in one family most of her life.
We'd have nothing in common at all.
"That's be nice," I said noncommittally.
By then we were at the Farmer's Market and the conversation
turned to tomatoes, cherries, strawberries, peaches and
nectarines.
When we finally headed for the park that Steve intended for
our picnic site we were loaded down with a half bushel of peaches
for our lunch, five pounds of tomatoes for Steve's father, and a
cantaloupe for my breakfast the following morning. The lady at
one of the stalls had promised to put aside a hand embroidered
peasant blouse for me.
Steve had packed a wonderful picnic, much to my surprise. A
variety of crackers with Brie and extra sharp cheddar, a
radicchio and coriander salad with a very light
"secret" dressing
that had some kind of berry in it I'm sure. I rolled my eyes when
I took a bite of the shredded chicken in a hot pepper and peanut
sauce.
"You bought this," I insisted.
In spite of his mock look of horror, he gave a rather proud
smile and shook his head.
"I'll take you back to my place after we leave here and show
you the dirty dishes."
"You can actually cook?"
"Hey I own a restaurant, don't I?"
"Which you bought, lock, stock and secret recipe, already
established -- and kept the cook I might add. Jesse told me
about your first attempt to fix ribs."
"I'm going to have to have a little talk with my partner
about telling tales out of school."
I swallowed a mouthful of chicken. "Be honest, you got this
from a Chinese restaurant, didn't you?"
"Scout's honor, I made it myself. I got the recipe from a
restaurant owner, who I might add, allowed me to watch him - just
once - prepare it. You're actually my guinea pig. It's the
first time I've fixed it on my own."
I couldn't get enough of the stuff, it was addicting. Must
be the peanuts.
"Will you show me how to fix it sometime?"
"Gee, I don't know." He bit thoughtfully into a peach
and
studied me. "I promised not to reveal Woo Tai's secret to
anyone."
"Oh come on Steve! I'm not going to be around here that
long, I won't ruin his trade."
"Ahhh, but you might spread it all across the nation as you
travel, then everyone will be making it."
"I'll sign a statement promising never to share the recipe
with anyone."
I knew if he was actually serious about safeguarding the
secret, I could get the recipe anyhow. But it felt better trying
to get it legitimately.
"I'll have to consult with Woo Tai and get back to
you."
I shook my head and sighed in disgust. I'd won and I knew
it, and he knew I knew. We were just having fun.
The thought flittered through the back of my mind that I
really was having fun, and enjoying myself. An almost foreign
concept to me. I let the thought flit back from whence it came,
because I didn't want to dwell on it and the implications.
Steve admitted the baked beans were from Bob's and he didn't
care if I skipped that part of the meal. He'd brought them for
himself. He loved the beans cold. It made me shiver just to
watch him eat them.
For me there was another salad, three colors of sliced
peppers with an herb dressing. Steve slurped his beans while I
crunched the sweet peppers.
There were homemade brownies, again he admitted he had not
made them. Amanda Bentley's nanny was notorious for showering
the Sloan men with baked goods.
Although he had eaten a peach himself earlier in the meal,
Steve obligingly ate the other half of mine. I got up to stretch
my legs while enjoying a second glass of a delicious white wine
he had packed. I could feel Steve's eyes on me as he stretched
out on the ground, back against a tree trunk.
That's when I spotted the swings. I whirled around, hurried
back to Steve and handed him my wine glass.
"Be back in a bit!" I raced off before he could even
ask
where I was going.
By the time he could catch up to me, I was soaring almost as
high as possible without going over the top of the set. He
leaned against the metal leg of the set, finishing the last few
bites of my peach.
"Glad to see you still have a bit of kid left in you."
He
moved his head as he watched me swing back and forth. Up to the
sky, down to the earth and back among the tree tops, down to
earth and back to the clouds. It was exhilarating.
"Join me!" I cried swishing past him on a downward
trip.
He shook his head and gently patted his stomach. "Makes me
queasy."
"You're kidding! Ohhh, I love it!"
After a few more passes, I asked, "How far do you think I'd
go if I let go at the top of the arc?"
I've never seen a person change so quickly. In less than an
instant Steve went from casual observer to cop on suicide watch.
He tossed the peach pit into the nearby bushes and moved away
from the swing set, out in front of me.
"Don't even joke about something like that, Sarah."
Even as I flashed by, I could see the concern and fear in
his eyes. He didn't know me well enough to know for certain if I
would actually try it. His mind was racing through scenarios,
options, trying to figure out how to handle the situation if I
was indeed serious.
"Maybe I could catch that tree limb over there!" I
pointed
to a large oak about fifty yards away.
"Sarah," his voice was filled with warning.
I laughed. "All right, all right, it was just an idea."
"Not a very bright one." His tone was dour.
"Lighten up, Sloan." I waved a downward hand at him as
I
went by. "Everyone has to have some way to get their
thrills.
You get yours from being a cop. So what if I want to fantasize
about being able to fly?"
I went back and forth a few more times before continuing. I
couldn't believe I was actually telling him this.
"What I really want to do someday is get a motorcycle."
Another swing back and forth. "You know take it out
somewhere
without speed limits." Swing all the way back. "Then
just let
'er rip." All the way to the top, reaching for the sky.
"Full
out." Back again. "Just me, the machine and the wind
rushing
by."
I couldn't believe my ears when Steve said, "I can arrange
that."
I looked down at him from twenty feet in the air and as he
rushed closer. His face was utterly serious. Back into the
trees. Feet on the ground bringing me to a grinding, sudden
halt. Steve leapt forward to catch me as I fell backward out of
the swing, he pulled me out of the way as the empty seat came
swinging back at us.
I dusted myself off and looked up at him in amazement.
"You mean that?"
He nodded.
"Don't mess with my head, Steve." I stood a couple feet
in
front of him, my fisted hands on my hips.
"Why would I do that? I've got a couple of dirt bikes at
home. Got my first one when I was six."
I lost control then, I admit it. The project and every
aspect of it went out of my head. All that mattered was that
this man in front of me could make my dream come true.
"Let's go now!" I grabbed him by the arms.
"Please? Show
me the bikes! I'll change clothes and we can go!" I was
clinging to his biceps, jumping up and down like a small child
begging for a pony ride.
He was laughing, but shaking his head. He wrestled one arm
free and looked at his watch and pointed to it.
"Sarah, it's almost six o'clock."
"So? Come on, I'll hurry, I swear." I grabbed his hand
and
pulled him back to where we'd left the picnic.
"Sarah, calm down." He put both hands firmly on my
shoulders, trying to stop my hurried efforts to pack up the
remnants of our meal. "We can't go tonight. It's a three
hour
drive from here to anywhere we could go riding." He must
have
felt the energy go out of me because he turned me around and
said, "I promise you as soon as I can get seventy-two hours
straight off, I will take you."
"Seventy-two hours?" I wailed. "You just said it's
only a
three hour drive out there. Why can't we go on your next day
off?"
He scratched his forehead with his thumb, a habitual gesture
of consternation on his part.
"Sit down." He pushed on my shoulders, forcing me down
to
the blue checked material I had carried from the car that had
served as our picnic table. Then he knelt in front of me.
"You don't just get on a bike and start riding. There's a
lot to learn."
"Oh, come on, I'm not a kid. I know the rules of the
road."
He sighed. "I'm talking safety and control issues."
"Yeah, like you're trying to control me right now." My
disappointment was quickly turning to anger.
"I don't have to take you at all." He spoke as if to a
child, which was exactly how I was behaving. When I didn't
reply, he continued. "Control of the bike. Balance. Things
that come almost naturally when you're a kid, but have to be
learned by adults, because we've learned too much. Fear kicks
in."
"I'm not afraid, Steve. I want to do this." The pout
was
still in my voice, not matter how hard I tried to control it.
"Fear becomes an instinct, too, Sarah. Trust me." He
reached out and held my upper arms. "I know how much you
want
this. I want it to be a good experience for you. I have a
friend who has a cabin near one of my favorite off-road spots.
If we wait until I have 72, we can go up early one morning, have
you riding by mid-afternoon. Spend the night and you can have
another entire day and a half to ride before we have to think
about coming back." He paused and I looked at him. He
smiled.
"Provided of course you can take the time off work
yourself."
I held my head up, "You know I make my own hours."
"Yeah, and I've seen how you drive yourself."
Go To
Part Four
