L.A. Blues III Read Online Free Page A

blackmailer, and I almost forgot where I was. Years melted away and I was still nine, worrying about the basketball in my mother’s stomach, which I later learned was a baby sister, who somehow survived when my stepfather, Strange, beat the mess out of my mother when she was seven months’ pregnant. I was so excited I couldn’t wait to catch the next ferry going back.
    I made my way over to the dais where the bridal party was seated. The line of well-wishers had thinned out and the newlyweds were surrounded only by their wedding party. I was supposed to have sat at this long table with Peter, but I had elected to stay in the dance hall. I’d missed the first dance of the newlyweds.
    â€œZ, where have you been?” Haviland snapped petulantly. “You missed the throwing of the bouquet and the garter.”
    â€œI’m sorry, but I got a little seasick.” I caught myself, then changed the subject. “Girl, you’re looking radiant.” I blew air kisses, a Hollywood habit I’d picked up from Haviland.
    Haviland was beaming, her makeup still intact. You could see how happy she was being the center of attention. She was the cynosure of all eyes, and, as an actress, she really hammed it up. Even so, she had this determined look like this was it, like she might make it through her fourth marriage. For her sake, I hoped so.
    â€œThanks for sharing our day,” Trevor said.
    â€œI wish you both all the happiness,” I said sincerely. “I’m leaving, Haviland, Trevor.”
    In spite of Haviland’s protests regarding me leaving the reception so early, I insisted I had to leave. I hugged them both, in the best mood I’d been in since the wedding started. They were due to fly out for Paris for their honeymoon later that night.
    â€œHave fun. Congratulations!”

Chapter Three
    Absently, I twiddled and twirled my ankh, which I wore around my neck, as I sped up the 73 West Freeway toward L.A. in my rental SUV. A few months ago, a Santeria had given this amulet to me when I was in Rio. Sometimes this ankh brought me comfort and lifted my mind from fear. I was still wondering if the ankh was what gave me the power to kill four men by myself when I was surrounded in Brazil.
    Driving along, in a moment of clarity, I felt a sudden urge to go to an AA meeting, but I wanted to go to a meeting with people who looked like me—brown. Plenty of AA meetings were scheduled in Orange County, but I wanted to go to one in L.A. I’d been sober for almost three years now. Up until Mayhem was kidnapped, life had been good—brand new because of my newfound sobriety.
    It hit me that I hadn’t been to an AA meeting in almost three months but, fortunately, with this pregnancy and the constant nausea (which I was kind of hoping both would magically go away), drinking was the last thing on my mind. I thought about it. A meeting wouldn’t hurt. It always gave me clarity about a situation: how should I handle the reunion with my long-lost sister? I wouldn’t talk about my unplanned pregnancy, or my reunion with my sister, but generally, I’d hear a solution in what was said by one of the people who opened up and disclosed more.
    I merged from the 405 Freeway to the Harbor Freeway, exited at Vernon and was driving down Vernon to Vermont in South L.A., all the time my mind was on my baby sister. So, her name was Rachel now. What would she be like? Would she remember me? I last saw her when she was about eight or nine and living in a foster home in Rowland Heights.
    My mind drifted back to Romero. I decided I would go to the cemetery tomorrow and put flowers on his grave and talk to him about my situation. Should I abort this baby? My real question: Romero, is this your baby I’m carrying ?
    Oh, no! I don’t want to be on some Maury Povich TV show with the DNA test. I could see the drama now. Would his family come forth and say, “That’s not