afraid she might be caught looking. It's the way people act with bums, Barbara thought. I'm not a bum! She supposed her hair might be a little messed up, but otherwise… She looked down at herself. Her short-sleeved white blouse was clean, neatly pressed, buttoned almost to her neck, and tucked into the waist of her pale blue shorts. She fingered the zipper of her shorts. It was shut, of course. So the driver hadn't been put off by an open fly. Her shorts were clean. They weren't skin-tight short-shorts, either, but baggy-legged things that reached almost down to her knees. Bending forward slightly, she inspected her socks and shoes. White crew socks, white athletic shoes. And a very nice tan between the tops of her socks and the hem of her shorts. look terrific, she thought. Maybe the creepo just doesn't like teenagers. Maybe she's afraid I'm a serial killer. Like maybe I've got a chainsaw in my purse. The next car to turn onto 15th Street was a Mercedes convertible driven by a man. His hair was mussed. He wore sunglasses, a blue sport shirt and a necktie. Barbara settled back against the door of the pickup. She folded her arms and gazed away. The Mercedes stopped.
'Do you need a ride somewhere?' the driver asked.
'No. Thanks, anyway.'
'Are you sure? don't normally give people a lift, but under the circumstances…'
'No, that's all fight. I'm waiting for someone.'
'Is everything okay?'
'Yes. Fine. Thank you for stopping.'
He shrugged and drove on.
He looked like a nice guy, she thought.
Yeah, and so did Ted Bundy.
'What's the matter with you?' Earl called from the hiding place.
'I told you, no guys.'
But the next two cars that passed were driven by women, and neither stopped.
Earl yelled, 'Hey, got a great idea! Why don't you lay down in the road?'
***
After trading seats with Mary and strapping himself in, Clint had reached out to turn on the radio. He'd needed news of the quake. And of traffic conditions. Where a radio should've been, there was an empty space in the instrument panel.
'Where's your radio?' he'd asked.
'Gone.'
He had shaken his head and started driving.
He'd really wanted to hear some news! The Valley had been hit hard, that was obvious. But what about the rest of Los Angeles? If the epicenter had been somewhere near here, maybe L.A. got off easy. Maybe at home there was nothing but a minor tremor, the sort of thing you might mistake for a big truck driving by the house. Maybe Sheila didn't know it was a quake until she saw the chandelier above the dining room table swinging. The chandelier, their home earthquake meter. Yep, that was a four-point-two on the Chandelier Scale.
'It's the fourth,' Mary had said. 'What? What're you…?'
'I've had four stolen. And they always break a window.' Oh. Car radios.
'I even tried not locking the car at night. But they broke a window anyway. So just gave up. stopped buying new ones. After the fourth. They'd just get it, anyway. Why waste my time and money? Now don't have a radio, but my window got broken anyway.' She'd glanced at it, but looked away fast. 'I love this car,' she'd murmured. 'And people keep… hurting it. Why can't people be nice?'
'People are fine,' Clint had said. 'Nine out of ten.' Two blocks ahead, the road had appeared to be jammed with traffic. Clint could avoid the mess with a detour. But which way to go? Probably right.
'Trouble is,' he'd continued, 'nine out of ten adds up to ten in a hundred who are jerks. They foul up the works for everyone else. Which is why my car's locked away in a parking lot and why you don't have a radio. I'd really like to know what the hell is going on with this quake. I've got a wife and kid over in West L.A. I'd really like to know if there still is a West L.A., damn it!'
He'd turned
'Do you need a ride somewhere?' the driver asked.
'No. Thanks, anyway.'
'Are you sure? don't normally give people a lift, but under the circumstances…'
'No, that's all fight. I'm waiting for someone.'
'Is everything okay?'
'Yes. Fine. Thank you for stopping.'
He shrugged and drove on.
He looked like a nice guy, she thought.
Yeah, and so did Ted Bundy.
'What's the matter with you?' Earl called from the hiding place.
'I told you, no guys.'
But the next two cars that passed were driven by women, and neither stopped.
Earl yelled, 'Hey, got a great idea! Why don't you lay down in the road?'
***
After trading seats with Mary and strapping himself in, Clint had reached out to turn on the radio. He'd needed news of the quake. And of traffic conditions. Where a radio should've been, there was an empty space in the instrument panel.
'Where's your radio?' he'd asked.
'Gone.'
He had shaken his head and started driving.
He'd really wanted to hear some news! The Valley had been hit hard, that was obvious. But what about the rest of Los Angeles? If the epicenter had been somewhere near here, maybe L.A. got off easy. Maybe at home there was nothing but a minor tremor, the sort of thing you might mistake for a big truck driving by the house. Maybe Sheila didn't know it was a quake until she saw the chandelier above the dining room table swinging. The chandelier, their home earthquake meter. Yep, that was a four-point-two on the Chandelier Scale.
'It's the fourth,' Mary had said. 'What? What're you…?'
'I've had four stolen. And they always break a window.' Oh. Car radios.
'I even tried not locking the car at night. But they broke a window anyway. So just gave up. stopped buying new ones. After the fourth. They'd just get it, anyway. Why waste my time and money? Now don't have a radio, but my window got broken anyway.' She'd glanced at it, but looked away fast. 'I love this car,' she'd murmured. 'And people keep… hurting it. Why can't people be nice?'
'People are fine,' Clint had said. 'Nine out of ten.' Two blocks ahead, the road had appeared to be jammed with traffic. Clint could avoid the mess with a detour. But which way to go? Probably right.
'Trouble is,' he'd continued, 'nine out of ten adds up to ten in a hundred who are jerks. They foul up the works for everyone else. Which is why my car's locked away in a parking lot and why you don't have a radio. I'd really like to know what the hell is going on with this quake. I've got a wife and kid over in West L.A. I'd really like to know if there still is a West L.A., damn it!'
He'd turned
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