to Jeff. He left the apartment at five-forty and waited in the car until Kevin picked Mallory up, then followed them at a distance, silently chastising himself as he drove.
They'd gone to an apartment just off Chandler first. Jeff parked across the street and several yards down the block. The building was run-down and not very well lighted, and it definitely did not look like a building in which a mover and shaker in the music business would live. Less than ten minutes later, Jeff was ready to go back home and try to forget he'd been so petty as to follow Mallory like some cheap private detective when he'd spotted them leaving. Kevin and Mallory were followed by four guys in a beat-up old Toyota Corolla.
Jeff had started the car, still halfheartedly intending to drive home and study.
But he couldn't.
When they drove into the darkened rear parking lot of the old burnt-out health club, Jeff turned onto Whitley and parked at the curb, almost, but not quite, glad he'd come.
The lot was surrounded by a fence of tall, thick shrubbery, preventing a view of the lot from the street. The only entrance was in the front on Ventura.
The parking lot was a favorite spot to park, drink, smoke some grass, and make out. Jeff wondered if Mallory had lied to him or if Kevin had lied to her. It seemed pretty obvious that there would be no meeting here about getting club work for Kevin's band.
Whatever they're going to do, he warned himself, you don't want to see it, do you?
He remembered his dream. All those groping hands and bobbing heads…
Do you … ?
Jeff got out of the car, quietly closed the door, and headed for the parking lot entrance….
It was difficult to tell how large the room was because of the poor lighting and blackened walls, but it seemed vast. At the foot of the stairs, Mallory looked around, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the shifting glow that came from kerosene lanterns positioned about the room.
"This is the pool room," Mace said. The room's acoustics gave his voice a hollow, empty sound. Pointing with a long index finger, he said, "The pool is over there, and beyond that wall, or what's left of it, is the racquetball court."
Dripping water plinked monotonously.
The still air was cool and damp.
Mace's feet crunched over the littered floor as he led them deeper into the room, saying, "I've got some cushions over here. Let's get comfortable."
As she walked with the others, taking cautious steps, Mallory heard a thick, moist squeak in the darkness and spun around.
Lanterns glowed and shadows oozed over the walls, but she saw nothing more.
Mace led them along the edge of the rectangular swimming pool. Mallory looked into it but couldn't see the bottom; it seemed to drop into a cold darkness so black it might have been tangible. After a moment, she turned away; it frightened her.
"Here," Mace said, putting the candle on a crate beside one of the lanterns. Several fat pillows and cushions were set up in a half circle facing the light. Mace settled on one of the cushions with his back to the crate.
Mallory, Kevin, and the others stood by the cushions uncertainly.
"Go ahead," Mace said genially with a short gesture of his hand, "make yourselves comfortable."
They shuffled around one another until each had found a seat.
Mace held a small pipe to his lips, lit a butane lighter, and held the flame over the bowl. Mallory hadn't seen him take the pipe from a pocket and wondered if he'd held it all along. He inhaled deeply, held it, then blew the smoke out slowly. Its odor was similar to that of marijuana, but sweeter, almost syrupy. He passed the pipe to Mark, who seemed hesitant.
"You've never had shit like this before," Mace said, still exhaling puffs of smoke with his words.
The pipe made its way around the half circle. When Steve handed it to Mallory, she shook her head and passed it on to Kevin.
"No, no, try some," Mace insisted gently.
Mallory wanted to remain alert; she was too uncomfortable in the
They'd gone to an apartment just off Chandler first. Jeff parked across the street and several yards down the block. The building was run-down and not very well lighted, and it definitely did not look like a building in which a mover and shaker in the music business would live. Less than ten minutes later, Jeff was ready to go back home and try to forget he'd been so petty as to follow Mallory like some cheap private detective when he'd spotted them leaving. Kevin and Mallory were followed by four guys in a beat-up old Toyota Corolla.
Jeff had started the car, still halfheartedly intending to drive home and study.
But he couldn't.
When they drove into the darkened rear parking lot of the old burnt-out health club, Jeff turned onto Whitley and parked at the curb, almost, but not quite, glad he'd come.
The lot was surrounded by a fence of tall, thick shrubbery, preventing a view of the lot from the street. The only entrance was in the front on Ventura.
The parking lot was a favorite spot to park, drink, smoke some grass, and make out. Jeff wondered if Mallory had lied to him or if Kevin had lied to her. It seemed pretty obvious that there would be no meeting here about getting club work for Kevin's band.
Whatever they're going to do, he warned himself, you don't want to see it, do you?
He remembered his dream. All those groping hands and bobbing heads…
Do you … ?
Jeff got out of the car, quietly closed the door, and headed for the parking lot entrance….
It was difficult to tell how large the room was because of the poor lighting and blackened walls, but it seemed vast. At the foot of the stairs, Mallory looked around, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the shifting glow that came from kerosene lanterns positioned about the room.
"This is the pool room," Mace said. The room's acoustics gave his voice a hollow, empty sound. Pointing with a long index finger, he said, "The pool is over there, and beyond that wall, or what's left of it, is the racquetball court."
Dripping water plinked monotonously.
The still air was cool and damp.
Mace's feet crunched over the littered floor as he led them deeper into the room, saying, "I've got some cushions over here. Let's get comfortable."
As she walked with the others, taking cautious steps, Mallory heard a thick, moist squeak in the darkness and spun around.
Lanterns glowed and shadows oozed over the walls, but she saw nothing more.
Mace led them along the edge of the rectangular swimming pool. Mallory looked into it but couldn't see the bottom; it seemed to drop into a cold darkness so black it might have been tangible. After a moment, she turned away; it frightened her.
"Here," Mace said, putting the candle on a crate beside one of the lanterns. Several fat pillows and cushions were set up in a half circle facing the light. Mace settled on one of the cushions with his back to the crate.
Mallory, Kevin, and the others stood by the cushions uncertainly.
"Go ahead," Mace said genially with a short gesture of his hand, "make yourselves comfortable."
They shuffled around one another until each had found a seat.
Mace held a small pipe to his lips, lit a butane lighter, and held the flame over the bowl. Mallory hadn't seen him take the pipe from a pocket and wondered if he'd held it all along. He inhaled deeply, held it, then blew the smoke out slowly. Its odor was similar to that of marijuana, but sweeter, almost syrupy. He passed the pipe to Mark, who seemed hesitant.
"You've never had shit like this before," Mace said, still exhaling puffs of smoke with his words.
The pipe made its way around the half circle. When Steve handed it to Mallory, she shook her head and passed it on to Kevin.
"No, no, try some," Mace insisted gently.
Mallory wanted to remain alert; she was too uncomfortable in the
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