Wrong City Read Free

with
Maryanne and her husband. “Hey, do either of you know that guy talking to the
hosts?”
    Jamie glanced
over and shrugged. “No idea. Why?”
    “Not sure. He
looks familiar, sort of. Like he’s someone I’m supposed to know.”
    “He’s foxy,”
Jamie said. She nudged her elbow into his ribs and winked. “Are you
interested?”
    “That’s not why
I was asking.”
    “No offense
meant. Just checking. You keep to yourself so much it’s hard to know where your
interests lie.”
    Toby squinted
at the man. “I think he’s just some guy,” he said at last.
    That seemed to
be the final word on the matter, so Vish headed out into the party once more.

Chapter Two
    T he party deflated shortly thereafter.
Guests seeped out and slipped off into the night; the noise level ebbed. It was
still before midnight when Jamie, Toby and Vish began loading foil-wrapped
trays of leftovers into the stubby white company van.
    The night air
was a relief after the stuffy kitchen. Vish could smell hot grease and smoke
clinging to his hair and clothes. The back of the van reeked of chorizo and
corn oil.
    Toby scrambled
into the passenger seat. That meant Vish would be nestled in back with the
leftovers. His stomach lurched.
    “You won’t need
me to unload, will you?” he asked. “I’m opening the shop in the morning. Would
you mind if I just took off from here?”
    Jamie looked at
him, confused. “You mean walk?”
    “Just down the
hill. I can catch a bus when I hit Hollywood.”
    “It’s fine with
me, but it’s an awful long way to the beach. Let me drop you off at the shop.
That’ll get you a whole lot closer to your place.”
    “No, I’m fine.
I could use some air,” Vish said. “Is there anything I should know for
tomorrow?”
    Jamie thought
for a moment. “Should be pretty straightforward. Someone’s coming in for a
tasting in the morning, but I left everything marked in the fridge. That’s
about it.” She paused. “Are you absolutely sure I can’t give you a ride? It’s
late. It might be dangerous.”
    “I’m sure.
Exercise will do me some good.” Jamie was right. It was a long way to Venice
Beach, and the buses at night were infrequent and erratic, but the urge for
solitude trumped that right now. “I’ll see you on Monday, okay?”
    “Sure thing,
sugar. Thanks for all your help tonight.” Jamie looked concerned, but not like
she was going to push the issue. With a wave, she climbed up into the front
seat.
    Jamie and Toby
drove off down the canyon road. Vish followed on foot. No sidewalk, so he kept
to the gravel shoulder. The road was narrow and twisty and dark, the only
illumination provided by the glow of the city below. A moonless night, the sky
inky and impenetrable.
    All was quiet.
Rare to find this kind of tranquil darkness in the middle of Los Angeles. The
air smelled good, like eucalyptus and lemon verbena and damp earth. Early
September, and the air was crisp, but not chilly.
    He heard a
rustle in the shrubbery forming a loose barrier between the road and the steep
slope of the canyon, a crunching of pebbles, a stirring of dead leaves. A
coyote, maybe, one of the many that roamed the hills in packs, sometimes
wandering into town and dragging off the occasional family pet. They avoided
humans, Vish had heard, but all the same, he quickened his pace a little.
    He was crossing
beside a parked car, something sleek and sumptuous, when he heard a voice:
“Hey.”
    He turned.
Leaning against the hood, arms folded across his chest, was the pretty man.
Vish could barely see him in the darkness. “You didn’t park on the hill?” the
man asked.
    “Hey. No, I’m
catching the bus,” Vish said. He paused. “Car trouble?”
    The man
shrugged. “Can’t get it to start.”
    “What’s wrong
with it?” Vish asked. Not that he’d have any idea how to fix it, but it seemed
only polite to ask.
    Another shrug.
“Not sure. I’m not really a car person, you know? Never had the interest.”