Page 5 of Justice for Radar

He shook his head. “None of that, now. You weren’t driving out of town one passenger light. Only stupid motherfucker in this scenario is the guy you were with, honey.”

We were silent for a time as we drew up to the house he’d described, sure enough, only a few houses in from the corner and across the narrow residential street—a cute little single-family hacienda-style home, the white stucco gleaming, the reddish clay tiles undulating along the roof a beacon among the surrounding roofs that were just plain shingles.

I smiled at it. The only thing remotely like it was way down the block on the opposite side, but wasn’t quite so nice as this one.

“You have a beautiful home,” I murmured, taking in the three arched windows in the front, looking in on a clean and tidy living room.

“Thanks,” he said and hit the button on a key fob, the garage door trundling up on its track, revealing a white Escalade on one side and a motorcycle on the other.

“Come on in,” he said. “Let’s get you settled.”

I followed him into the garage and up the two steps into the house. He left the garage doors open behind us, unconcerned about the creeping heat, as he closed the door leading from the house into the garage behind us.

“You can close it,” I murmured and with a smile, he clicked the remote in his pocket. I was surprised it worked through the door, but it did. I could hear the hum of the garage door opener’s motor as the door shifted down into its closed position.

“Kitchen is through there.” He pointed. “Den, where I’m usually working, is through the living room just that way, but the bathroom and bedrooms are back this way,” he said, pointing down the hall in the opposite direction. I followed him that way.

“Bathroom,” he said, pointing.

“Lucia’s room,” he said, touching a door. “And this one will be yours. Mine is just there at the end.” He opened the closed bedroom door to the room that would be mine and stepped aside.

“I’ll let you get settled. Find me in the den if you need me.”

“Okay, thank you,” I murmured.

“It’s no problem,” he said. “Make yourself at home.”

I nodded. He left.

I looked around at the room, which was obviously at one time a teenage girl’s, but with some serious taste and style. The colors were bright and cheery, but also subtle and lovely – yellows, pinks, and turquoise in tasteful patterns that reminded me of hand-painted and decorative tile. A picture of a street with its old-fashioned cars and brightly colored buildings that could only be Havana hung over the bed, bracketed by sheer curtains held back to the wall was the room’s centerpiece and the colors made sense, reflecting the bright paint jobs on the buildings.

I went to the small white desk and set my laptop tote down on the floor beside it and sighed. I wheeled my little suitcase aside to where it would be inconspicuous and sank into the chair at the desk and looked around.

I would need the Wi-Fi password to work or to explore my options for flights etc., but first, I just needed to take a minute.

I closed my eyes and let the apprehension go and the gratitude fill me.

I was feeling fortunate. Fortunate, but also scared… no one did something for nothing. That wasn’t the way the world worked. Still, for right this moment, I could try to breathe.

Except breath wasn’t coming, my throat and chest growing tight and my eyes beginning to burn until I just gave in and cried, thinking thoughts of Billy…

Why?

Because I had really begun to love him, and I had no idea what I’d done to deserve this. None. Nothing. I just didn’t know why he could leave me like that, and ithurt. God, it hurt, and I didn’t know quite what to do, how to get around that hurt. So for a time, I let it consume me. Let it burn me up from the inside out until I felt hollow and all but ash remained.

I couldn’t cry anymore. I couldn’t hurt. I was just… numb.

3

Radar…

I cleared my throat and sat down in my chair, pulling out my cellphone and clicking a few keys at what I affectionately referred to as my battle station in my den. I pulled up the listings for the hotels on the boulevard and picked the one that Lucia had mentioned when she first told me about Justice.

The line rang and the voice on the other end when it picked up was a familiar one.

“Rosa,” I said.

“Oh, hey, Radar. How are the girls?” she asked, and I had to smile. Rosa had babysat for me more times than I could count. That was small-town living for you.

---