The 37th Amendment: A Novel Read Free Page A

pearl white on the sides and lower body, blending seamlessly from one to the other like the natural coloring of the shark that inspired it.
    “Look at these,” the cop said, and he ducked down almost out of Ted’s sight. He was examining the four parallel chrome sidepipes that emerged from the lower front fender and swept sleekly to the right, disappearing into a chrome muffler just below the door. “Beautiful,” the cop murmured, “They look like gills.”
    “No, the gills are at the front,” Ted said, leaning out and pointing. “See? In front of the tire?” The cop nodded, running his hand lightly over the sculpted fender. A gill-like cutout concealed the turn signal. “Beautiful,” he said again. Cars whizzed by behind his back and he stood up.
    Ted smiled. “Would you like to see what’s under the hood?” he asked.
    “That’d be great,” the cop said.
    Ted reached under the dashboard and popped the hood release. Then, with a wink at Julia, he got out of the car and lifted the hood. The engine glittered silver-blue under the lights.
    “Toxic,” the cop said admiringly. “Four hundred horsepower?”
    “Four twenty-five,” Ted said. “V-8.”
    “Toxic,” the cop said again.
    Ted smiled and nodded. The unfamiliar slang from the twenty-something officer left him feeling unpleasantly mature.
    “I can’t believe this is a 2011 car. Forty-five years old and it looks like it just rolled off the showroom floor.”
    “Thanks.” Ted smiled.
    The cop nodded.
    Ted nodded.
    “The thing is,” the cop said, “You can’t drive a car with an internal combustion engine inside a tunnel in Los Angeles. Only the gutless wonders are allowed down here. I’m going to have to ask for your license and registration.”
    Ted glanced at his watch. “No problem,” he said, reaching for his wallet. He handed over the license, closed the hood and walked back to the driver’s side of the car. Julia already had the registration in her hand. She held it out to him. “Thanks,” he grunted.
    “Hey,” the cop said, handing the license back to him, “I’m not gonna write you on your birthday. Turning fifty is bad enough.”
    Ted trotted down the concrete stairs of Chick Hearn Arena with Julia barely keeping up behind him. There were four empty seats on the aisle at rows 26 and 27. Ted stopped at row 27, and as he turned to allow Julia in ahead of him, his face looked like a thundercloud.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked.
    “He’s not here.”
    “Who’s not here?”
    “Rob. The guy that sits there.” Ted pointed to the empty seat in front of him.
    “The guy you made the bet with?”
    Ted nodded. “Five hundred bucks,” he said.
    Julia smiled and stood close to Ted, stroking the zipper of his leather jacket possessively. “Oh, well,” she said. “I’d rather be alone with you anyway.”
    “He’d better show up,” Ted said, ignoring her. He was humorless about basketball.
    Julia sat down. “I’m sure he’s just late,” she said. “I’m sure he’s not missing a playoff game just to stiff you. You’ll get your money.”
    “It’s not the money,” Ted said. “He started in on me right at the beginning of the season. ‘The Lakers have no team.’ ‘The Lakers have no defense.’ ‘The Lakers won’t make it out of the first round of the playoffs.’ So just to shut him up, I offered to put five hundred dollars on the Lakers making it into the second round. I mean, there was no doubt. Not only did we beat Barstow in five, we’ve got home court advantage against Denver. And he doesn’t have the guts to face me, that’s what it is.”
    Julia nodded absently. “I’m going to buy you a beer for your birthday,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” She stood up and walked past him to the aisle.
    Ted reflected on the bad luck that had game one of the second round of the NBA playoffs landing on the same day as his birthday, an event for which Julia had ordered an elaborate catered dinner for two