She hooked up with Annie. They ate lunch at the Grove with Larry Levine then went to a movie.
Afterward, Larry split and the girls smoked weed and baked cookies at the apartment on Genesee, gossiping about their exes. At suppertime, they decided to go to Forty Deuce, but Becca was reluctant because she couldn’t reach Rusty to tell him.
“What is he, your fucking keeper?” said Annie.
The TV report caught Becca’s eye. “Oh my God! Turn it up!”
[STUDIO ANCHOR] Lots of excitement in Riverside today when a member of the paparazzi “flipped” for Kit Lightfoot. More now, from Macey Dolenz.
[OUTSIDE THE RIVERSIDE GALLERIA] That’s right, Raquel. The actor, who is still recovering from an assault last year in a West Hollywood liquor store that left him with extensive neurological damage, evidently went on an unscheduled outing this morning [FOOTAGE OF FLIPPED CAR] and was chased by Jimmy Newcombe, a freelance photographer. Newcombe was in hot pursuit of the reclusive superstar when he lost control of his car as Kit Lightfoot’s driver continued on. The photographer was briefly hospitalized before being released. Photos of the recovering actor, at a premium, are said to be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars on both domestic and world tabloid markets. [OLD FOOTAGE OF RIVERSIDE HOUSE] Lightfoot, who has not given any interviews since the tragic incident, has been sequestered at his boyhood home since his release last Christmas from Valle Verde Rehab Center in Valencia, where he spent a closely guarded six months. [BACK TO MALL; SCHOOLGIRLS/-BOYS IN B.G., JOCKEYING TO BE SEEN] But, today, it seems like he went on a field trip to the Riverside Galleria, where he cheerfully signed autographs for supportive fans. Macey Dolenz, for KTTL, in Riverside.
[BACK TO STUDIO] A much needed, and hopefully, much enjoyed field trip at that. A tragic, fascinating story — and one we haven’t heard the end of yet.
[OTHER STUDIO ANCHOR] Little bit of an old-fashioned movie car chase there, huh?
— Keystone kops.
Coming up: a wild Wednesday for the Patriots, when they found their offense “up for grabs.”
• • •
BECCA’S CELL PHONE lit up: CALLER UNKNOWN. She didn’t think it was Rusty because when he phoned it usually said PRIVATE.
“Hello? Rusty? Hello?”
The club was too noisy for her to hear anything. She said “Hello? Hello?” through the crowd until she was outside.
“Hello, who is it?”
“Becca? Is it you?”
“Yes, this is Becca. Who is it?”
“It’s Elaine!”
“Elaine?”
“Elaine Jordache. Did you hear about Kit Lightfoot?”
“The chase?”
“They caught the person who did that to him.”
“They what?”
“The one who hit him on the head!” she said, adding testily: “He worked for me.” Then: “Have you talked to Rusty?”
“No—”
“Then you don’t know any of this?”
“Know any of what, Elaine?” said Becca, getting peeved.
“The police are supposedly looking for him because of something that person said…”
“That person—”
“The idiot who cracked Kit Lightfoot’s skull! They were friends, they knew each other.”
“Friends? Who—?”
“There supposedly was a murder, in Virginia—”
“Elaine, I don’t understand this! I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“If you talk to Rusty, do not tell him that we spoke. All right? Will you promise me, Becca? Because we could be in danger, and I am scared shitless. I am in fear for my life!”
A Decent Proposal
BURKE CALLED FROM Vegas to tell Cela that a suspect in his son’s assault had been arrested.
He said the police were sitting on it for the weekend but to expect a burst of media activity on Monday, when the announcement would officially be made. He didn’t want Kit to know anything and was only mentioning it in case something leaked before he got back. Try to keep him away from the television. Just in case.
That night Cela invited Kit to her house for dinner. She lived outside the media-free zone; there was an element of delinquency, but more so because Burke was away and wouldn’t have approved. It was just like the old days, when they snuck around their parents after dark.
Steaks sizzled on the Foreman. Kit leaned over to inspect the water bowls with floating votive candles that dotted the yard.
“So who died?” he said with a smile.
“Very funny,” said Cela.
His limp was no longer pronounced. He wore a white button-down Gap shirt and new Levi’s, and was three days into the haircut she’d given him.
“You look nice,” she said.
She’d chosen a short little black dress, but Kit didn’t comment.
“Dad in Vegas,” he said, declaratively.
“That’s right.”
“When coming back?”
“ ‘When is he coming back?’”
“When is he coming back?”
“You can really speak beautifully when you want to.”
“When is he coming back, when is he coming back,” he said, gently mocking.
“Depends on how fast he loses,” she said. “He loves giving them his money.”
“Loves giving them my money.”
Cela laughed. His sense of humor was intact — everything was pretty much intact. He just moved a bit more slowly, in mind and in body, a bit less elegantly than before. He sporadically discarded words and consonants, his inflection unpredictably emphatic or slurred, but Cela was convinced that was because there was no one riding herd.
“Ever go with him?” he asked.
“To Vegas? Couple of times.”
“Where did you stay?”
“The Bellagio. He knows some people there. Or the Mirage.”
“You fuck him a long time?”
She turned from the grill, narrowing her eyes. “There is nothing between me and your father.”
“I saw you,” he said. She went back to grimly futzing with the blackened steaks. Kit’s smile became bittersweet. “I don’t… judgment. No energy to judge. Have got… energy for eating and shitting and… maybe signing autograph. Autographs,” he corrected.
“Your father,” she said awkwardly, “was good to me. Burke has his flaws — does he ever. OK? And I know that. I’m well aware. The bottom line is he took care of me when I got out of rehab. More than once. And I know he did some really shitty things to you, Kit — to you and your mom. And I respect whatever feelings you have toward him about that. OK? That’s not really my business. All I can deal with is how he — what he did for me. And that he’s a human being. He was right there, Kit. He was there for me. My father wasn’t, and neither were you—and that’s so not your fault! I’m sorry. That’s bullshit, and I shouldn’t have even said it. I’m sorry. It just — it had nothing to do with you. I’m not a perfect person, Kit — never said I was. OK? But I love you and I just don’t even really want to talk about any of this anymore. Or right now, OK?” She choked back tears and said, “I just want us to have a nice dinner and be sweet to each other—”