Moorpark Palms - 20. Chapter 20

After the earthquake, everything changed. As it turned out, Helen – the nurse – wasn’t headed altruistically for the hospital. She never came back, driving straight through to her sister’s in Colorado. Her strongmen sons trucked her things there the following week.
“Mom’s always made snap decisions,” one of them explained.
Harv and Lorelle zipped back from Hawaii. “For the twins and the small stuff,” Harv shot at me, while packing like a madman.
“He found a job in Honolulu, and I can continue my training,” Lorelle added. “We can’t raise kids where the ground shakes.”
What about volcanos?
Gianpaolo and the stretch-limo were never seen again. In early February, Dennis used his passkeys to open Apartment 11, then moved everything Gianpaolo had left into his own place. The Italian driver reportedly vanished back to Naples.
No volcanos there.
Lonnie moved to Seattle, taking Yuck. “I’ll miss the sun,” he said, “but they’ve got down-to-earth babes.”
After three days, the Hungarian women returned, then left permanently. “I’m finished with school,” the younger one told me – without an accent. It was the first time I’d heard her speak. “And Mom can work anywhere.”
Mom!
“What does she do?” I asked casually, trying not to kill the loquacious calf.
“She’s an accountant.”
“And you?”
“A dietician – now.” She grinned with the relief of the newly degreed.
“That’s great!” I said. “Good luck – wherever you’re moving.
“San Antonio,” she bragged. “I’ve got a great job with an HMO.”
Sally and Lindsay had no intention of moving. “I’ve felt worse,” Sally said, though she couldn’t remember when. Lindsay had never been in an earthquake before. “Just a few rumblers.” But she wasn’t about to leave her great-grandmother. “And this is such a convenient place to live. Now that I’ve got grandma’s old Fiat fixed, I can drive anywhere.”
“You hear the pool wall go down?” Vic asked me, the morning after the quake. I hadn’t, somehow missing one small bump in the middle of an avalanche.
“It’s like six feet from my bed,” he continued. “I thought, ‘If our walls go next, I’m gonna die.’”
“Me, too,” Dennis put in. “I just knew this place wanted my ass.”
“I want it first,” I heard Claire whisper to Lindsay. Was she turning into Vic?
“It’s my first big quake,” I told everyone. “But I’m new to them. I never thought I could get hurt.”
“You’ll learn,” Vic claimed.
Dennis agreed. He was from San Francisco so had experience. “I was working in the Marina when it came down in ‘89. I thought I was dead then, too. I got lucky twice.”
“Was the earthquake the reason you moved?” Lindsay asked.
“Nah... I got divorced.” He kind of grin-shrugged in that stupid talk show confessional way guys sometimes do. “Actually, I got booted out. I still love my wife – and I love our kid. She’s two. But my ex thinks I’m a dick.”
“Why?” Lindsay pushed. I couldn’t get away with that, but I think they were feeling each other out.
Dennis grinned again. “She says I have the maturity of a sperm.”
“Bummer,” Lindsay sympathized. “A control-freak!”
I didn’t get that, but I wasn’t on the prowl. To me, it just seemed funny that both Lindsay and Claire thought Dennis was hot.
“What kind of music do you like,” Lindsay went on
“Mostly Metal,” Dennis replied. “Some Grunge. You know – easy listening.”
Still, immediately after the quake, Dennis got a roommate.
“He’s not gay?” Lindsay asked me.
“What gives you that idea?”
“His roommate’s hot, too.” She quickly amended what she’d said. “I mean, I don’t care what they are. There’s nothing wrong with that. But if they’re available, I’d like to know.”
Claire had been listening to our conversation. She didn’t contribute, but she was grinning. I half wanted to say, “Claire, they’re fifteen years younger than you are.” But what did I know?
“My place just wiped out,” Dennis’ new roommate, Pete, explained, when we were all introduced. “You know those apartments in Northridge?”
“You didn’t live there!” Lindsay almost screamed.
“No, but across the street. We didn’t get the coverage they did ‘cause – good thing – no one died. But our building splintered.”
“Then caught fire,” Dennis added.
“We couldn’t save anything.”
Pete was an engineer. He knew Dennis from San Francisco State. “Except I finished,” he joked. “Didn’t get sidetracked by brew and balls.”
“Tennis!” Dennis beamed.
“Which would you give up first, Denny?” Pete asked. It was clearly a routine. “Babes, Buds, or a couple of sets?”
“Gotta feel that swing,” Dennis parroted, backhanding the air.
“Teach me?” Lindsay almost begged.
“Sure thing – but you’ll get flattened! I’m pretty good.”
She didn’t seem to care. She was playing a different game.
Despite his engineering degree, Pete was working with Dennis in the building owners’ office.
“Why are you doing grunt work?” I asked. “If you’re an engineer?”
He shrugged. “To tell you the truth, engineering is pretty boring. School was great, and it was a challenge to graduate in four years. Then I worked for a couple more years for a decent company. But it’s all routine. I’m looking for something more interesting.”
“What?” I asked.
“That’s the problem – I don’t know. Unfortunately.”
He seemed pretty easy-going, like Dennis but with dark-hair. And his diplomatic skills were immediately honed. Right after Pete moved in, Denny’s brother-in-law arrived, camping besides Pete in the living room.
“Carpentry’s gone crazy!” he told us. “Hasn’t been this hot since Frisco!”
For weeks, he slept on Denny’ couch, and Pete didn’t sleep at all. “Can’t you hear him?” Pete complained. “His snoring’s louder than a truck!”
I didn’t hear anything, though their windows were fairly far from mine.
“Now, I snore – lightly,” Pete went on. “Or so my girlfriend says. Ted barfs through his nose.”
I sympathized.
“I’ve tried cotton – wads of it,” he explained. “In my ears, though I’d like to shove it down his throat. I got industrial ear plugs from a guy I know who works for Delta. Practically buried my head in pillows. Nothing helps.”
“Does he know?”
“Oh, yeah! He thinks it’s funny. Says it’s why his wife’s so happy when he works out-of-town.”
“Maybe you should get your own place.”
“I’d love to but can’t. I shared the place in Northridge with three other guys. I’ve got college loans, and my job pays dog food. Either I crash with Denny or go back to real work.”
“What’s Denny say?”
“He doesn’t care. He’s got his own room.”
One morning, I found Pete sleeping in his car – kind of tricky since he’s my height and drives a Midget. “Go sleep in my apartment,” I said. “I think you’ve got keys.”
“Thanks, man, but I gotta work.”
Another day, he’d flopped his sleeping bag on the tiny lawn in the courtyard. “You know what time those birds get up?” he grumped. “And that tree keeps dropping dates. They hurt.”
“Where’s your family live?”
“Too far,” he admitted. “Oakland.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“The same. Besides, if her dad ever found us in bed, he’d skin me. Alive. Loving every minute of it.”
“He doesn’t like you?”
“It’s not that. She’s still in school. He’s sure I’ll get her pregnant.”
“Why don’t you sleep in one of the empty apartments?” I asked.
There were still five.
“That’s kind of touchy,” he explained. “For a week, Denny and I have been trying to convince our bosses to let us have one of the two-bedrooms. They said they will if we pay three hundred bucks a month. Right now, our rent’s free. I could squeeze out my share. But Denny’s got child-support.”
“Couldn’t Denny’s brother rent one?”
“He’s got a wife, two kids, and a mortgage. Even with bringing in all he does, it’s never enough.”
“I’d let you sleep on my couch if I had one. But I’ve got an old futon...”
“Maybe I’ll sleep in 7 anyway,” he decided. “If no one talks, it’ll be cool.”
So for a week Pete dragged his sleeping bag across the balcony every night. He slept but still wasn’t happy: “Denny’s brother’ll be here till August. No way 7's staying empty.”
“Bribe your bosses,” I suggested.
“I’m lousy at that. Denny’s always had the charm. You should see his ex-wife...”
“Bet Denny. Beat him at tennis.”
Pete laughed.
“Are you that bad?”
“No. He’s that good – when he’s focused. The problem with Denny – and people start a lot of sentences that way. The problem is his attention span is shorter than his dick.”
That cracked me up.
“You should see him at work,” Pete went on. “An even half-pretty girl walks in, and Denny forgets to breathe. Playing tennis, he gets distracted by a scent.”
“How’s he keep a job?”
“I told you, we’re working for nothing.”
“Why?”
“Training to be millionaires. Learning how to buy rotten buildings like this and rent them out.” He caught himself. “Sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
I laughed.
In early February, I came home one night to find Pete hauling cartons of Bud up the center stairs.
“Party?” I asked.
“Kinda. We moved to 7, and I rented number 14. Even overcharged, ‘cause the kids who took the place had no credit. Not even bad credit. None.”
“How old are the ‘kids’?” I asked, trying to sound unconcerned.
Pete shrugged. “Late teens? Maybe a year-or-two older.”
“You don’t think they’ll make more noise than Denny’s brother-in-law?”
“Don’t panic,” he said, laughing. “I can always boot them out.”
Not that the place was close to silent. Even with the twins gone, we still had a trio of tykes rattling daily around the courtyard. And though Annie’s war with Mack supposedly left Edan quarantined, she and Gini still played noisily. Kyle was least often seen, constantly ferried to auditions.
“He almost got a commercial!” Donna told me one day. “For gum. Then they didn’t like the way he chewed.”
“Too bad.”
“You better believe it. One day’s work pays a lot of bills.”
“Do they have that many?”
“Does Bordeaux have fleas?”
I laughed, but it came right back at me. The white beast was soon accompanied by a fat basset hound, also named “Gini.”
“Gini found it, and that’s what she wants it called,” Joni explained.
I didn’t want to see the psychiatry bills on that one.
Garth returned briefly, that weekend. I discovered him testing the still-chilly pool near midnight. Mostly wearing gin.
“C’mon in, man. It’s cool.”
“I’ll bet it is.”
“How’s your friend?” he soon asked, floating comfortably in what should have been ice cubes. “Out-of-town,” I lied.
“That’s where we’re headed! Donna tell you?”
“No.”
He grinned. “I got a mongo year-end bonus. We’re flying to Tahiti. Staying as long as our money lasts.”
“How long do you expect?”
“Who knows? Last time, it was three months. You guys should come.”
“Sorry,” I lied again. “Gotta work.”
“Take off a few days?”
“We might not come back.”
“I know what you mean! Travel really gooses the imagination.”
I laughed. Living in LA, who needed that?