My Lost and Found Life (6 page)

“That's a great idea,” Nicole said eagerly. “She should buy you a first-class ticket. It would only be fair, after all she's put you through.”

I nodded agreement without telling her how unlikely I thought that was. I was beginning to doubt there would be any quick and easy solution to this mess. My mother would come back, of that I was sure. But when she reappeared, she would almost certainly be hauled off to jail and wouldn't be in any position to pass out money for first-class tickets to Hawaii.

The last couple of nights I'd been troubled by dreams in which my mother was captured and dragged off in handcuffs while TV cameras filmed her humiliation (and mine). It seemed too horrible to even hope for such an ugly conclusion. Yet at least I would know where she was and if she was all right.

Nicole eventually went home to finish packing for Hawaii. When I hugged her good-bye, I held on tight for a few extra seconds, comforted by the reassuring arms of someone who cared about me. Then I let go.

That night, while Nicole and all my former friends were in the sky en route to Hawaii, I was in my car on my way to Tattie's place.

Tattie lived in a white stucco bungalow along the access road facing the freeway. While there is no such thing as a “bad” neighborhood in Burlingame, her street came closest, with its small houses and even smaller yards. Her house was the least impressive on the block since it needed repainting and the front yard had more weeds than grass.

I parked at the curb behind Tattie's dented Honda and walked up to ring the doorbell. Before I could even press it, the door swung open and I was staring straight at two breasts threatening to burst out of a low-cut green top.

Tattie's mother gave me the once-over and yelled behind her, “Don't you even think of going somewhere before you get this place cleaned up! Get your little friend here to help you.”

With that, she barreled past me and headed for the driveway.
I stood watching as her sizable bottom convulsed inside too-tight black pants.

Her mother pulled herself into the driver's seat of a yellow Mazda with a deep crease in the passenger-side door. She paused to check her face in the rearview mirror. Her hair was dyed an aggressive shade of red, and she was wearing more makeup than you'd see at an Estée Lauder counter. She and Tattie obviously shared a love of excess.

“Are you lost, Miz Ashley?” Tattie said from behind me in the doorway.

“Bored,” I answered, and walked inside. “I came over to see what you were doing.”

“You've come to the right place,” Tattie said. “The excitement never stops around here.”

She walked through the living room, and I followed her, trying not to wince or hold my nose. Her house was a complete mess, with newspapers and clothes and dirty dishes everywhere. And the place smelled—the rancid odor of cooking grease and soiled laundry fought with the heavy floral scents of air freshener and hair spray.

She walked into a tiny bathroom and paused in front of the mirror to apply blush to her already red cheeks. I stood leaning in the doorway since there wasn't anywhere I wanted to sit down.

“What flavor of excitement are you serving tonight?” I asked.

“That all depends,” she said. “Just wait and see. You like this shadow?”

She was applying glittering gold cream to her eyelids.

“Wow,” I said for lack of a better comment.

“Makeup is kind of my mask,” she admitted, letting her mouth hang open slightly as she applied more mascara to her eyelashes. “I even sleep with it on so I don't scare myself in the morning. I'm kind of a hag that way.”

“You look more biker babe than hag in that outfit,” I said. She was wearing all black, from her low-cut top to her leather miniskirt and matching boots.

She laughed and said, “We make quite a contrast. You look like Little Miss Gap or something.”

I smiled, although my designer jeans and form-fitting pinstripe jacket cost a lot more than anything from the Gap. She clearly didn't recognize classic style when she saw it.

“Time to boogie,” she said. “Let's haul ass. I'll drive.”

We climbed into Tattie's Honda and took off for San Francisco, or “the City,” as it is referred to by everyone who lives in the burbs. The minute I slid into the front seat, I made a mental note to never ride in her car again. Part of the floorboard beneath the passenger side was missing. I had to balance my feet carefully so that my foot didn't slip through the hole and hit the pavement below.

She drove fast, and twenty minutes later we pulled off the freeway onto Cesar Chavez Boulevard. As we sped down debris-lined streets past grimy buildings with peeling paint, I began to get uneasy. I was not familiar with this part of San Francisco and didn't want to be either.

“Where are we going?” I asked, realizing I should have asked this question before.

“The Cactus Club. I need to see my friend Tony,” Tattie said.

“What if they card us?” I asked.

“Aren't you twenty-one yet, little girl?” She laughed. “No problem, they know me.”

When she stopped in a bus zone outside a dingy-looking bar, I said, “Hey! I'm not sure—”

But Tattie jumped out, yelling, “Come on!” as she headed inside.

I stayed where I was, weighing my lack of options, until a big diesel bus pulled up next to the car and stopped. The huge doors opened with a loud hiss and I saw the dark face of the bus driver scowling down at me. A couple of men emerged from the bus and zigzagged around the car to reach the sidewalk. “Stupid bitch,” I heard one of them mutter. “Don't know any better than to park in a bus zone.”

“It's not my car,” I called after him. He didn't turn around. Sighing, I got out of the car and skittered into the bar. It was like stepping into a dark, smelly cave. Tattie was seated on one of the bar stools, laughing flirtatiously at a mustached bartender. I sat down on the stool next to her.

“Tony, this is Ashley.”

I nodded.

“She's the one I was telling you about,” Tattie continued. “Can you fix her up?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tony leered at me. “I'll be happy to take care of her, don't you worry.”

I shifted uneasily, leaning my arm on the bar and then moving it when my flesh stuck to the tacky surface. Actually, the whole place was tacky, with an unpleasantly boozy odor—it smelled just like my father used to, and that wasn't a good thing.

Tattie got up, announced she had to pee, and sauntered toward the back. A few seconds later, Tony followed her. I sat there staring at my reflection in the bar mirror until some weirdo wearing an Oakland Raiders cap sat down on the stool next to me.

“Hey, gorgeous, can I buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks,” I said. Was he kidding? He was way old and had long sideburns. “I'm fine. I better go see where my friend went.”

“Oh, don't worry about her,” he said, leaning toward me with his mouth open wide. I could see his teeth needed a good flossing. “I'm betting she's real busy right now. I'll entertain you till she comes back.”

Without answering, I walked toward the back. I didn't see Tattie, so I tried the door to the toilet. It was locked. I could hear giggling inside and some other unidentifiable sounds. I stood outside the door, reluctant to return to the bar alone.

After a few minutes, Tony walked out of the toilet with some money in his hand. He gave me a smirk as he brushed by and said, “You come back, sweetheart. Anytime.”

Then Tattie reappeared. “I've got what I need,” she said. “Let's blast.”

Out in the car, Tattie tucked a plastic bag into the glove compartment and flipped me a card. “Your new ID,” she said.

It was a driver's license for an Elizabeth Castillo, age twenty-two, and the only thing she and I had in common was dark hair. “Thanks,” I said, not really meaning it. I was feeling more depressed by the minute. Instead of sunning myself on
a Hawaiian beach, I was hanging out in raunchy taverns and meeting sleazy drug dealers.

“What next?” I muttered, more to myself than to Tattie.

But she answered me. “Why don't we go back to your house?”

I could have kissed her, I was so relieved. As we drove the sixteen miles back to Burlingame, Tattie used her cell phone to invite a few of her friends to my place.

Maybe I should have told her to forget it. But I didn't have anyone else to hang with. I reasoned that at least Tattie didn't look down on me or talk shit about my mother, the notorious embezzler.

We had barely turned into my driveway when they began arriving. None of them were part of the popular clique at school, but I knew them.

First to arrive was Mike, a pint-sized wisecracker with a shaved head and baggy jeans. He strolled in with a skateboard on his shoulder and his girlfriend, Shirlee, at his heels.

“Gee whiz, Ashley, first last night and then today. We're getting to be, like, best friends,” said Mike in a falsetto. “I feel cooler already, I mean, like, I am the coolest dude around. I mean, like, oh, my gawd.”

Shirlee giggled as if he were the funniest human on the planet. She was known for giggling at anything anyone said, including herself.

Next came Brian—also known as Brain because he was a total computer geek who made straight As. Rumor had it he could hack into any network no matter how tight the security.

“I brought refreshments,” shouted Brain, pointing to a cooler he was carrying. “Cold Jell-O shots and beer.”

Brain was half-Vietnamese, or maybe all—he could have been one of those adopted babies. In school it was hard to keep your own story straight, much less anyone else's. So many of the kids were of mixed ancestry that it was no big deal. Money, not race, was always what counted.

Webb was the last one to arrive, swaggering in the door to a welcoming chorus of “Hey, dude!” and “What's happening, dude?” His first name was Robert, but everyone always called him by his last name. Webb was the male version of Tattie. Scott always said he was a loser. True, he cut school a lot and his grades weren't good. But he was a daredevil on snowboards and dirt bikes. I heard he had even tried skydiving. If he had been a dog, he would have been a rottweiler, while Scott was a classic golden retriever.

“Hey, Webb,” said Mike. “That was quite a show you put on yesterday.”

“Show? What show?” I asked.

“You mean you haven't heard?” Tattie hooted. “Our friend here got banned from commencement because of a little prank he pulled.”

Brain leaned forward to fill me in. “You know that little shed over on the edge of the football field?” he said. “Well, Webb tried to send it into orbit with a few well-placed pyrotechnics.”

“I made a slight miscalculation,” Webb allowed.

“It was a beautiful sight,” Brain continued. “Rockets, Roman candles, the whole works. Two fire trucks were on the scene and a platoon of firemen, but the shed burned down to the ground. I hear the school board was on the warpath and a couple of the big hot dogs wanted him busted.”

Mike guffawed. “It's a good thing you're leaving town, dude. Otherwise, they'd have your dick in a wringer for sure.”

Webb leaned back in the chair with a smirk on his face. “They haven't made a wringer big enough for my dick.”

“So I've heard,” I interjected.

Shirlee giggled, and Webb honored me with a smile. He was known for his devastating smile and his ability to charm the pants off almost anyone. In fact, he had charmed the pants off quite a few girls in our class.

“Believe it,” said Tattie, sticking out her tongue and wiggling it in a provocative manner.

“Are you speaking from experience?” Brain asked playfully, pretending to hold a microphone up to her mouth. “Enquiring minds want to know.”

She grabbed his hand and cooed into his make-believe microphone. “I always speak from experience. But that's ancient history.”

“Ancient, ancient history. The crustacean period. When dinosaurs roamed the earth,” Webb added.

“You mean Cretaceous period,” I said.

“Whatever,” he grunted, and gave me a challenging look.

“Whatever,” I agreed.

“Okay, we're all here. Let's get started,” announced Tattie, climbing to a perch atop the back of the sofa. “Welcome, Ashley, to the other side of the tracks, home of the outcasts and troublemakers. Zoned for those who can't or won't fit in, who don't give a fuck, who don't buy into the bullshit. Let the games begin.”

“Do you have a special game in mind?” I asked while the others whooped and whistled.

“I have enough Vitamin E for everyone here,” she said. “You, girlfriend, are in for a really big treat.”

“I'll pass,” I said, and everyone began booing and catcalling.

“Oh, no, you don't. This is special for you. We're all old hands at this. You have been through a lot of bad shit and need some serious cheering up. This will definitely do the trick.”

“What if it's been cut with something? Dying would not cheer me up.”

Someone made a clucking noise. I ignored it.

“Relax, I guarantee you this is grade-A stuff, nothing mixed in,” Tattie assured me. “Tony would not give me bad shit.”

I didn't say anything, but I was still reluctant.

“It's perfectly safe,” Shirlee added earnestly. “I don't do drugs, not even aspirin. Only E. It really is pure ecstasy, pure bliss.”

“There's nothing better than the first time you try E,” said Brain. “It's totally dope. You feel like you're floating above the whole world, and at the same time everything seems so crystal clear.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“What are you, the Ecstasy fairies?” Webb intervened. He was sprawled in our cranberry red wing chair, a beer in one hand. “Leave her alone. Maybe she can't handle it. If she's not up to it, she's not up to it.”