The Interview Read Online Free Page B

question.” I toasted him, then downed the
rest of the bottle. I took a hit then talked with smoke coming out my
mouth. I think it looks cool. “I go there a lot and I know the
waitresses by name. Yolanda was working and this skinhead was fucking
with her. He grabbed her ass. I made a comment. He got mad. End of
story.”
    “And you just, what? Punched him?”
    “I pushed a table in front of his run. He hit it. Then I gave
him a double-fisted forearm to the back of his head. He broke his
nose and lost a tooth. I kneed him in the jaw.”
    “Cops?”
    “Nope. Yolanda, I guess, called Tristan or one of his flunkies,
then two guys came and picked him up.”
    “So you don't know whether he's alive or dead.”
    “Nope.”
    “Curious?”
    “Nope. Not my problem.”
    “So why'd you hit him?”
    “I just told you. Batman's a detective. Get with it.”
    Batman leaned towards me and said, “You told me what you did.
Not why.”
    OK. I saw his point. It wouldn't be the first time my mouth got me in
trouble, although never in enough trouble to get shot. I put a mental
damper on my sarcasm. “Sorry. I get smart when a gun is pointed
at me.”
    “Have you ever had a gun pointed at you?”
    “No.” I put more of a damper on my sarcasm and said, “I
have two rules I live by.”
    “This should be interesting.”
    “Now who's being a joker?” Stupid. “Bad word
choice. Anyways, rule number one: I don't involve myself in other
people's problems. Rule number two is: A woman and/or child in
jeopardy is my problem.”
    “Noble.”
    “Not really. I have never encountered a child in jeopardy. And
there have only been a few instances where I saw a woman in jeopardy.
It's easy to be noble when you never find yourself in a situation
that requires nobility. I was hot and tired. Yolanda didn't deserve
that kind of crap. If he hadn't rushed me, then nothing would have
come of it, probably. I pushed. He pushed back. I knocked him out.
Nothing noble about it.”
    “You're remarkably calm considering the situation.”
    “I have brain damage.”
    “Yes, I know. A childhood accident, correct?”
    That stopped me. I can count the number of people who know about my
accident on one hand: my parents, Frankie, and Annette. There are
some doctors, of course, and my therapist. Batman didn't impress me
as a member of the health profession. Undertaker maybe, but not a
doctor. “How do you know that?”
    “I know a lot about you, Kelly Jenks. Most of it doesn't
matter, but your calm is interesting to me.”
    Batman just became really interesting to me as well.
    I was preparing another smart remark when he hit me in the temple
with his gun. Bright, flaring pain all over my skull. Whole lotta
nothing after that.

CHAPTER FOUR

    THE SUN, AND THE PROMISE of temperatures in the hundreds, was just
beginning to lighten the sky as I crossed the 405. There was an early Tool song in my ears. Their titles are so random I can
never keep them straight. I had a nasty gash over my right eye and a
headache to go along with it.
    The fingers on my left hand kept time on the steering wheel while my
right alternated between bringing a cigarette and a cup of 7-Eleven
coffee to my mouth. I raced a Southwest jet taking off from John
Wayne International, but it left my Ranger in the dust before I
reached the Orange County Fairgrounds. Take-offs from John Wayne were
always exciting. Newport Beach had passed noise ordinance laws that
required pilots to climb steeper than normal before powering back as
they crossed some imaginary line. The result was a stomach dropping
moment for everyone on board when it felt as if the plane was falling
out of the sky. The pilots were pretty good about telling the
passengers what to expect, but it was still startling if you had
never experienced a John Wayne take-off.
    The 55 transformed seamlessly into Newport Blvd. Well, it was
seamless at 5:30 in the morning. Any other time of day, traffic backs
up as the free flowing 55 slows to a