She was even more surprised when he leaned over and whispered to a blonde woman sitting beside him. The woman laughed. He laughed back. Then he put his arm around her and pulled her in to his chest.
April saw, too, because she sucked in air loudly. Gretchen squeezed her eyes shut, opened them, and saw the same thing.
"I told you not to look," Nina said.
"What's going on?" Britt said.
"Gretchen's boyfriend is over there with another woman,"
April said, raising her arm.
"Don't point!" Nina hissed.
"What's the big deal," Gretchen said lightly, although she felt a shooting pain in her chest. A wave of nausea washed over her like the onset of flu. "It's not like we've made a commitment or anything."
Stolen kisses in the moonlight obviously meant much more to her than they had to him. Granted, she'd been avoiding him and hadn't returned his phone calls, but he could have tried harder, waited longer.
The discovery was hurtful, not to mention embarrassing. The entire doll community was expecting fireworks from Matt and Gretchen. They'd get fireworks all right, but not the kind they expected. Next time she went to Curves, they'd know all about tonight.
"What a rat," Nina said. "Two-timing Gretchen."
"He doesn't. ." Gretchen began weakly, trying to keep her voice steady. "He's only. ." What was he? And what did he mean to her? "Nothing," she decided. "He's absolutely nothing to me."
I sure know how to pick them!
Her last relationship had ended when she caught the snake cheating. This one was over before it even got off the ground.
"Let's get out of here," Nina said. She stood up and sidestepped to block Gretchen's view of Matt and his new beautiful blonde. Another pencil-thin Arizona woman guaranteed to shatter Gretchen's self-esteem.
"Not so fast," April said, grabbing Gretchen's arm before she could rise. "We have a mission to accomplish. We're the Mod Squad."
"We have a mission?" Nina asked, echoing April.
"We're the Mod Squad? Nobody told me."
"What mission?" Britt said, completely confused.
"You're helping me overcome my clown phobia. Besides, he must have an explanation."
"April's right about staying," Gretchen insisted, finding her voice. "We came to enjoy the rodeo, and I, for one, am going to enjoy it."
If it kills me.
Gretchen inhaled and exhaled slowly. She blocked the cozy couple from her mind. "I see a few people working here that I recognize from the homeless shelter," she said, watching a man empty a garbage can. "We can ask them about Daisy."
April's giant cowboy hat swung with her head. "Let's walk around, get something to drink, and see what we see."
April struggled upright and adjusted her hat. "Don't kick any paper cups," she warned. "It's bad luck and could spook the horses."
"I thought you said you've never been to a rodeo before," Gretchen said.
"I haven't, but I read a lot. Horses are easy to scare. Just like me."
"You're tougher than you think," Gretchen said, hoping her words made April stronger.
But how tough am I?
As they walked to the concession area, a cowboy riding a bull broke into the center of the arena, waving an arm and plunging back and forth while the bull did everything possible to unseat its load. The crowd went wild as the seconds ticked by. The cowboy catapulted from the animal and scrambled for safety. A clown drew the bull's attention away from the rider by running in front of it, waving a red flag.
"See," April said, sweat glistening on her face. "My immersion plan is working. I'm not afraid." But she hadn't taken two more steps before she grabbed Gretchen and Nina for support. "Oh, Lordy, I lied. I feel real weak like I might faint."
"Sit down for a minute," Gretchen said. They guided April to an open spot on the lower bleachers. "I'll get you something to drink. That'll make you feel better."
"I'll get it," Nina said, hurrying off. Her white cowgirl hat bobbed through the crowd.
"I'll go with her." Britt ran to catch up.
"I'm really sorry." April wiped her forehead with her sleeve.
"I'm proud of you for making the effort. You're doing great."
April's eyes bulged. She stared down the aisle. "Here comes one. Oh, no."
"You'll be fine." Gretchen didn't believe it for a second. April looked like she was about to have a fatal heart attack.
"I'm going to faint."
"Put your head between your knees."
April complied. The big woman's upper torso swung down. Her cowboy hat fell to the ground. The clown approached. He stopped in front of them. "Don't look,"
Gretchen warned April. "Stay where you are and take deep breaths."
"Word on the street," the clown said, "is that you're looking for Daisy."
Gretchen saw April turn her upside-down head to the side just enough to see the clown's big, red feet. "You're okay." Gretchen patted her back reassuringly.
Without a word, April heaved forward and crumpled facedown between Gretchen and the clown. No one in the stands seemed to notice. All eyes were focused on the cowboys.
"Too much to drink?" the clown asked.
"You need to leave before she opens her eyes and sees you again," Gretchen said, squatting beside April, wondering what to do. Just then, the crowd seemed to part. Gretchen looked up and saw Matt Albright weaving toward them. Nina and Britt appeared next to her, carrying trays filled with food and drinks. April started to move.
The clown trotted away. Gretchen watched him until he stopped at an exit door and looked back at her. "Help April," Gretchen said to Nina, rising from her prone friend. She was afraid to take her eyes off the clown for fear of losing sight of him. "I'll be right back."
She followed him out the door and into the darkness. He moved quickly, heading away from the lights of the parking lot. Gretchen hesitated under a light, aware that she would become vulnerable to an attack if she continued. She was putting herself in a position that she'd been careful to avoid her whole life. Her mother would flip if she knew Gretchen was chasing a man through the night without protection. So would Nina. But she had to know what had happened to Daisy.
Wait. She still had Nina's lipstick pepper spray. It was buried somewhere in her purse, where it wasn't doing her a bit of good at the moment. Next time, she'd have it ready.
All Gretchen could see in the darkness was the clown's white face paint. He'd stopped moving. "Where is Daisy?"
she asked.
"Daisy sends a message."
"Tell me." Gretchen was constantly amazed at the homeless community's communications network. She wondered how it worked.
"Meet her at midnight."
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Nacho's."
"How did she know where to find me?"
The clown's teeth flashed when he smiled, but he didn't answer.
Gretchen relaxed slightly. He wasn't going to attack her.
"What if I hadn't been at the rodeo tonight?"
"Then we would have found you tomorrow. Daisy says come alone."
The clown turned his white face away and faded into the night.
Gretchen used her cell phone to contact Nina. Matt was still attending to April. "She's playing it for all it's worth,"
Nina said. "She's drooling all over him."
"Tell her to snap out of it," Gretchen said, walking toward the car. "Meet me outside. I'm not coming back in."
The last thing she wanted was an introduction to Matt's latest conquest.
27
Gretchen stood in the darkness under a viaduct. Cars roared by overhead. Even at this late hour, the city was alive with activity. Streaks of light from passing cars exposed graffiti on the sides of train cars parked on the crisscross of tracks nearby. Ten minutes to twelve. She had worried about her safety at the rodeo. That was nothing compared to where she found herself now.
If she screamed, no one would hear, no one would come to her aid. If she was murdered tonight, her body wouldn't be found for days, or weeks, or ever. Yet Daisy was at home in this isolated corner of Phoenix where shadows constantly shifted and social outcasts roamed. Gretchen didn't see any signs of life at the base of the massive concrete supports. Nacho's home. She remembered her surprise at that. A homeless person with a home. The destitute man usually lived inside his head, inebriated more often than sober, but Daisy loved him. They had a better relationship than Gretchen had ever had. She put her personal problems out of her mind. There would be time later for self-pity.
Nacho had reconstructed his home several times. He called it upgrading. When weather conditions destroyed one of his makeshift homes, he built again in the same place, risking flash floods to live here instead of in one of the shelters where he would have to abide by someone else's rules.
His house consisted of cardboard walls framed around an enormous steel beam, secured with duct tape and painted steel gray to blend into the surrounding concrete. His home cleverly fooled the eye. Unless Gretchen looked very carefully, she couldn't see that it was there. She stood motionless, unwilling to approach the cardboard house. Whose blood had stained the shed and Daisy's shopping cart? That was the thought that kept going through Gretchen's mind. Was Daisy hurt? What about Nacho? Had he returned from his trip to San Francisco?
Sensing someone behind her, she whirled, preparing to release a blast of her pepper spray. Daisy stepped forward.
"I was worried about you," Gretchen said with relief, reaching out for the homeless woman. She hugged her close, ignoring the ripe odors.
"Why worry about me?" Daisy drew back, uncomfortable with Gretchen's display of affection. "I get by just fine."
"I went to the shed and found blood on the door and on your shopping cart. I took your belongings to protect them. What's going on?"
"I'll show you. Follow me." Daisy moved out ahead of Gretchen, in the direction of Nacho's house.
Inside, newspapers were taped on the makeshift walls and on the ground, serving as insulation to keep the chill of the desert night from seeping inside. The small room had enough space for several rolled-out sleeping bags, an old propane camp stove, and a few boxes of miscellaneous items.
"Watch where you step," Daisy advised when they entered. "I'll get us some light."
Gretchen waited while Daisy fumbled around in the dark. The homeless woman struck a match and touched it to a lantern wick. Low light played against the cardboard walls, illuminating the women and casting gigantic shadows on the walls. Someone slept on the ground inside one of the sleeping bags.
"It's him," Daisy whispered. "I found him in the alley, and I thought he wasn't going to make it."
"Nacho?" Gretchen blanched. "Oh, no. What happened to him?"
Daisy shook her head. "Not Nacho. Ryan Maize, the crazy druggie."
"You're kidding." She hadn't expected that. She drew closer but couldn't see any signs of life from the sleeping bag. "Is he alive?"
"He almost wasn't. I found him hiding behind a Dumpster two nights ago. He was in bad shape. He spent yesterday in the hospital."
"What's wrong with him?"
"Plenty." Daisy sat down on a sleeping bag next to Ryan. He didn't move.
Gretchen bent over him and checked for life. The dirty sleeping bag moved slightly with his shallow breath. He didn't react when she placed her fingertips on his neck and felt for a pulse. "His pulse isn't very strong," she said.
"I had to break him out of the hospital yesterday. The place is more like a prison than a place to fix people."
"I thought you didn't associate with drug people."
"I don't. But I'm the one who found him. He's my responsibility now."
Daisy felt responsible? That was a switch. Gretchen knew that most of the homeless were on the street because they couldn't accept society's constraints. Responsible wasn't an adjective commonly used to describe the indigent.
Yet here she was, claiming responsibility for a fellow human. Maybe Daisy was on the right path after all. Gretchen knelt beside Ryan. "Why didn't you leave him at the hospital where he was getting professional care? He looks very, very sick."
"If they had found out who he was, it would have been jail for him. He didn't even want to go to the hospital, but he was too weak to run away."
"What's wrong with him? An overdose?"
"I told them I was his mother. The doctor said Ryan snorted some toxic drug. He burned it, inhaled the gases, and it caused horrible hallucinations. Ryan thought demons were slicing him into pieces. He fought them off with a knife but ended up cutting himself. They sewed him up at the hospital, but it's the drug that hurt him the most."
Gretchen recalled her first meeting with Ryan and his bizarre behavior. "He must have been high on the same drug when he hit me."
Daisy nodded. "He's been in one long, ugly nightmare. The doc said he's taken the stuff more than once or twice based on the amount they found in his blood. He might have permanent physical and mental problems and be disabled. There's no way to tell."
"What a messed-up kid."
"Whoever sold him this stuff," Daisy said, "had to know how bad it was."
"Dealers don't care what happens to their customers,"
Gretchen said. "They're sociopaths without a conscience."
"This dealer
really
didn't care."
"What makes this one any different from any of the others?"
"Ryan took something called ep. . I can't remember the name of it. The doctor wrote it down." Daisy dug around in her layers of clothes, searching through her pockets. She handed a crumpled piece of paper to Gretchen. "That's the thing he inhaled."
Gretchen couldn't believe her eyes. It couldn't be possible. "Epinephrine?"