Page 100 of All That Glitters
Paris was waiting. And for the first time in her life, Debbie was ready to face it alone.
Chapter thirty-six
And Yet Another Not-So-Bright Idea
The drive from Los Angeles to San Diego was a frantic, desperate race. Tony’s beat-up pickup truck chugged along the interstate, the hazy blue of the Pacific on his right, the rolling brown hills on his left. He was pushing the old engine to its limit, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. His mind was replaying the last 24 hours in a torturous loop: Debbie’s crushed face at the premiere, her disappearance, his own stunning, horrifying moment of clarity when he realized he’d been chasing glitter while his whole world was about to get on a plane and fly away.
BAM!
The truck backfired like a gunshot, that jerked the entire vehicle. A bouquet of cheap, hopeful gas station flowers slid off the passenger seat and onto the floor, immediately crushed by the backpack that tumbled on top of them.
“Crap,” Tony muttered, reaching over to give the dashboard a desperate, placating pat. “Come on, boy. Not today. Please, not today.”
On the San Diego freeway, the city had ground to a halt. A vast multilane parking lot shimmered in the afternoon heat. An Uber sat idling, boxed in between a cement mixer and a minivan, the meter ticking upwards with agonizing slowness.
“Which terminal did you say we’re going to?” the Uber driver’s voice grumbled from the front.
In the back seat, Debbie stared out the window at the endless river of stationary cars, her heart a dull, heavy weight in her chest. A new life in Europe awaited. An adventure. Freedom. It all felt like a punishment.
“TWA,” she said, her voice flat.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The pounding on the door of Debbie’s apartment was loud enough to rattle the cheap particleboard. Veronica hurried over.
“Coming…”
She opened it to find Tony standing there, looking wild-eyed and desperate, holding a bouquet of flowers that looked like they’d been in a fistfight.
“Hey,” he said breathlessly. “Is Debbie here?”
Veronica’s face softened with a look of profound, sympathetic pity. “Oh, Tony. You just missed her,” she said gently. “She already left for the airport.”
The news hit him like a physical blow. His shoulders slumped. The flowers in his hand seemed to wilt further. “Did she say which airlines?”
“I think it was TWA.”
“Thanks,” he said, his voice hollow. He turned to leave, his grand gesture already a failure.
“Tony?”
He looked back. Veronica was smiling, a real, encouraging smile.
“I hope you catch her,” she said.
He managed a weak, grateful nod and raced back to his truck. He climbed in, jammed the key into the ignition, and turned it.
Click.
Nothing. Not a rumble, not a cough, not even the tired groan of an engine trying to turn over. Just a single, final, metallic click. The sound of absolute defeat.
He slammed his hands on the steering wheel, a guttural yell of pure frustration ripping from his throat. “DAMMIT! I said not today!”
On the freeway, the horns had started. A symphony of angry honks and shouted curses filled the air. Debbie’s Uber driver was now engaged in a full-throated, deeply personal argument with the driver of a landscaping truck.
“Oh, yeah? Well, your mother looks like my dog’s behind!”
Debbie sank lower in the back seat, wishing she could just disappear. She looked out the side window, her gaze listless, and then she saw it. A small, sputtering object was weaving through the idle cars. A bright red scooter. On it was a man with a look of lunatic determination on his face.
