Unlucky Break (4 page)

‘Marta, where’s the garage?’ she asked, feeling stupid and hoping Marta didn’t think she was an idiot.

Marta looked up from the table she was polishing. ‘Outside.’ She nodded brightly at Andie.

‘Thanks,’ said Andie.
Could you be more specific?
she added silently. She went upstairs and found the note with Rene’s number in the pocket of her robe.

‘Hello, Andie,’ said Rene as soon as he picked up.

‘How did you know it was me?’

‘Cece gave me this number,’ he said.

‘Of course,’ said Andie, feeling silly. ‘Um, I’m sorry to bother you but Cece said something about a car, and … Well, I can’t find the garage,’ she finished, laughing a little at how ridiculous it sounded.

‘Sure, meet me out the front,’ Rene said breezily.

Andie went outside and sat on the step, looking towards the front gates. She wondered how long it would take Rene to get to Cece’s.

‘Good morning.’

Andie turned with a jump at the sound of Rene’s voice. He was standing behind her.

‘Where did you come from?’ she asked, heart racing with adrenaline.

‘I live above the garage,’ he said. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘You live here?’ she asked.

‘That’s right,’ said Rene.

Andie didn’t probe, even though she wanted to. Why did he live here? Was that normal for drivers in LA? Didn’t Rene have a family of his own? Did Marta live here too?

Rene pressed a button on the wall and one of the ivy-clad walls moved sideways. It was like something out of a James Bond film. Behind the wall were four cars.

‘It’s a false wall,’ said Rene, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. ‘The ivy on this side is fake.’

Of course it is
, thought Andie, wondering if she’d ever get used to LA’s extravagance.

Rene walked over to a small black BMW. ‘This is yours,’ he said, glancing at Andie to see her reaction.

‘You can’t be serious?’ she said, frowning.

‘You don’t like it? It’s a very good car,’ assured Rene.

‘It just seems so … expensive,’ said Andie, reddening. She’d never even been in a BMW, let alone driven one.

‘Cece wanted to make sure you had a very safe car,’ he said. ‘She went on and on about how it had to be safe. This has a five-star safety rating. But it also drives beautifully.’ He winked at Andie.

Andie was speechless.

‘Want me to back it out for you?’ asked Rene.

‘Thanks,’ said Andie, standing back. She watched as Rene expertly reversed the car into the driveway.

Andie suddenly realised the driver’s wheel was on the other side. Her mouth went dry. ‘I’ve never driven on the right,’ she said.

‘That’s okay,’ said Rene. ‘You just need to get used to it. I’ll go with you until you’re comfortable.’

He handed her the keys and walked across to the passenger’s side. ‘Come on, don’t look so worried. What’s the worst that can happen?’

I could die. I could kill someone. I could look like an idiot,
she thought as she slipped behind the wheel and adjusted the seat. Then she remembered the documentary on gang life in LA.

‘What about drive-by shootings?’ she blurted out.

‘Excuse me?’ asked Rene as he put on his seatbelt.

‘Drive-by shootings,’ repeated Andie in a small voice. She knew she sounded paranoid.

‘Are you planning on performing some?’ asked Rene with a smile. ‘It’s not something I’d advise.’

Andie blushed. ‘I’ve just heard you have to be careful in LA.’

Rene chuckled. ‘You need to be careful anywhere, Andie. But since we’re in the Hollywood Hills, I think it’s unlikely. You may experience a drive-by botoxing, but not a shooting.’

Andie laughed in spite of herself. ‘Okay, well if I come back and I can’t move my face, I’m blaming you.’

She put the key in the ignition. Rene pointed out the various features of the car to Andie, who didn’t even know what half of them were for. All too soon Andie was edging the car down the drive.

Rene pressed a button to open the gates. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

‘I can’t,’ said Andie, her hands clutching the wheel. She felt terrified. It was all wrong, having a passenger on her right. She suddenly couldn’t remember which side of the road she was used to driving on. Was it the left at home, or the right?

‘Sure you can,’ said Rene easily. ‘Turn on your indicator and turn left. Nice and slow.’

Andie flicked a lever on the right. The windscreen wipers switched on.

Rene grinned. ‘Other side,’ he said. Feeling silly, Andie flicked the indicator left and eased the car onto the road.

Rene coaxed and advised and soon she was coasting down the hill, the car purring beneath her. There wasn’t much traffic so Andie could drive slowly.

She started to relax. Maybe it would be okay after all. It wasn’t so hard, once you got the hang of it. After a few increasingly easy circuits of the block, Rene directed her onto the freeway, and they spent half an hour changing lanes.

Rene was a natural teacher, and after a while Andie realised she was actually having fun. It was exciting to think she’d have the freedom to explore LA on her own, in her very own car.

‘You good?’ Rene asked.

Andie nodded. ‘I’m okay,’ she said, surprised to realise it was true.

‘Good. Now you can take me home and head off to explore on your own,’ said Rene. ‘Take this exit.’ He pointed up ahead.

As Andie turned into Cece’s driveway and stopped to let Rene out, panic set in again. ‘I’m not sure I’m ready,’ she said, as Rene undid his seatbelt.

‘Trust yourself, Andie. You’ll be fine,’ he said with a broad smile. ‘You’ve got the GPS, and you can always call me if you get seriously lost.’

Driving carefully, Andie headed into Beverly Hills, following the cool voice of the woman reading the instructions on the GPS. She stopped at a set of lights and watched as an elderly woman in hot pants, a short fur jacket and running shoes crossed the road. Andie counted seven chihuahuas trotting on leashes ahead of her.

WTF
, Andie giggled to herself as the light went green.

Andie realised she desperately needed a coffee. The jet lag was catching up with her again. She tried to look out for a cafe and concentrate on the road at the same time. Up ahead, she saw some tables and chairs shaded by red umbrellas. Definitely a cafe – and, best of all, there was a car park out the front. Andie pulled into the spot, relieved she didn’t have to parallel park on the wrong side, and turned off the car’s engine.

She had done okay, she conceded, as she sat there for a moment. No scrapes, no road-rage outbursts from Los Angelenos, no accidently drifting to the wrong side of the road. And, thank-fully, no drive-by shootings.

Andie looked out at the cafe. The cafes in Melbourne were full of mothers with babies, hurried workers, uni students. Normal people.

Here, Andie could see a guy she was sure was the singer from a band that she couldn’t remember the name of. He was covered in tattoos. As Andie watched, the sausage dog tied to the leg of his chair pooped on the footpath. Without batting an eyelid, the rock star bent down, picked up the poop in a little plastic bag, and threw it away in a nearby bin.

At the next table, blonde women in designer Lycra were sipping glasses of green liquid. Each woman seemed thinner than the last.

Andie got out of the car, aware of the women watching her as she walked closer. She felt weird in her op-shop clothes. She felt weird about her pale skin. She felt weird about her untoned arms.

She obviously didn’t fit in. Not in LA. Possibly not anywhere.

Andie walked inside the cafe and looked up at the board. There were fifteen blends of coffee, with twelve styles, in four sizes.

‘Um, I just want a cafe latte, please,’ Andie said to the woman behind the counter.

After much back-and-forth, she finally explained how she wanted her coffee. When it arrived, it was enormous – almost the size of her head. This was a regular? She took a sip. It was okay, but nothing special. She suddenly felt nostalgic for the tattooed barista who made the coffee at her local cafe in Melbourne.

She got back into her car and pressed buttons until a cup holder appeared. She turned the key and waited as a red Porsche backed out of a parking spot a few cars away. Andie pulled out and drove slowly along the street behind the Porsche. A block or so up the road, the Porsche pulled over. As Andie passed it, she saw someone leaning over to the glovebox of the car.

Andie headed back to Cece’s house, taking her time. After a while, she noticed a red Porsche following her. Andie was sure it was the same car as earlier. But then again, this
was
LA – Porsches were probably like Mazdas here.

Andie began to get nervous when she turned into Cece’s street and the Porsche was still behind her. Using the rear-vison mirror, she tried to see into the car, but the windows were too dark. It was kind of creepy.

She turned into Cece’s driveway, fumbling in the glovebox to find the remote for the gates. With a racing heart, she noticed the Porsche pull into the driveway next door.

This is it,
thought Andie. The driver was from some obscure gang of wealthy Beverly Hills residents who pushed new people out of town.
The ones who don’t know all the driving rules and take too long to order coffee,
Andie reasoned.

She risked another peek at the red car as she fumbled wildly for her bag. Maybe she’d put the remote control for the gates in there? She couldn’t remember. A hand rose from sunroof of the Porsche and flipped her the bird.

Andie’s hand finally closed around the remote. She pressed the button and fell back against her seat in relief as the gates slowly swung open. Andie kept her eyes glued on the gates, ready to drive through as soon as her BMW would fit between them.

‘Hey,’ said a voice. Suddenly someone was standing there – right there, tapping on Andie’s window.

‘Don’t shoot!’ Andie screamed, covering her face with her hands.

‘What the hell?’ said the voice. Andie lowered her arms to see a girl about her age, with red hair tied back in a blue bandana. The girl’s pretty face looked confused. She had her hands on her narrow hips.

Andie immediately felt like an idiot. Her heart was still thumping as she pressed the button to lower the window.

‘Um, hey,’ she said, as though the
don’t shoot
comment had been someone else. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Did you just say, “Don’t shoot”?’ asked the redhead.

‘No.’

‘You did.’

‘No, I was singing.’

‘There’s no music on,’ the girl said, narrowing her eyes at Andie.

‘There’s music in my head,’ Andie said, smiling sweetly at the girl. This was getting weird.

The girl frowned. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’

Andie considered the girl. She was wearing six-inch heels, and glittery silver eyeshadow. Massive fake breasts spilled out of her low-cut top.

‘No,’ lied Andie. ‘I don’t think you’re stupid. Can we start again?’

The girl smiled.

Even with the plastic boobs, she was incredibly pretty, thought Andie. She wondered what the girl saw when she looked at Andie.

‘Okay, so you want me to forget you said, “Don’t shoot,” and that you sing to music in your head, yeah?’ asked the girl, laughter in her green eyes.

Andie gave a rueful smile. ‘Yeah, that would be great, thanks.’

‘I’m sorry about giving you the bird. I thought you were a fan but then when you opened the gates, I realised you must be Cece’s niece.’

‘Oh, okay,’ said Andie as if this made sense. Who
was
this girl? She didn’t look like someone Cece would know, in her leather pants and red singlet top.

‘I live next door. What’s your name again?’ said the girl. ‘Cece told me, but I forgot.’

‘Andie. Andie Powers. Nice to meet you, um …?’

The redhead looked affronted. ‘Are you one of those people who’s going to make me introduce myself to put me in my place?’

Andie shook her head. ‘Should I know who you are?’ She was pretty sure she’d remember this girl if she had met her before. ‘Have you been to Australia?’ she asked.

‘No. As if,’ the girl scoffed. ‘Didn’t you have Nickelodeon as a kid?’

Andie shook her head. ‘We didn’t have a TV,’ she said.

‘Wow, I didn’t know there were Amish people in Australia,’ the girl said teasingly. ‘I’m Jess Douglas. I’m an actor.’

‘Oh, okay. Hi, Jess,’ said Andie. The car was still purring beneath her.

‘How about you pull out and come over to my place?’ asked Jess suddenly. ‘Unless you have stuff to do?’

Andie thought about what she had to do. Stare at an empty notebook. Watch Marta polish the table. Obsess over Cameron and Marissa on Facebook.

‘Sure. I’ll just park the car and meet you back here in a sec.’

Jess looked pleased. Andie quickly parked in the garage and walked back. She followed Jess’s Porsche through the open gates and up the driveway.

Jess’s house looked like a doll’s house on steroids. It was a triple-storey, bright pink monstrosity with Grecian columns at the front entrance.

Jess parked and jumped out of the Porsche, grabbing a handful of high-end boutique shopping bags from the passenger’s side.

‘Just a bit of retail therapy,’ said Jess cheerfully when she saw Andie looking at the bags. ‘Always helps when I feel down.’

She pushed open the front door and dumped the bags against the wall. Andie stared. Dozens more shopping bags lined the foyer. Jess ignored them and continued into the house.

She must feel down a lot,
thought Andie drily.

‘So you’re an Aussie, huh?’ said Jess, pulling off her bandana and flicking her curly red hair free. ‘When did you arrive?’

Andie couldn’t stop looking at Jess’s boobs. She’d never seen anyone with a boob-job up close before. But still, there was something warm and welcoming about Jess that Andie liked. For the first time in ages, she actually wanted to talk.

‘Just yesterday,’ Andie said. ‘My mum died, so I’ve moved here. For a while, at least. Cece is my only family now.’

Jess pulled a sympathetic face and nodded. ‘Cece told me. I’m sorry. That’s totally craptastic.’