good." He spread his hands and shrugged.
She punched him in the shoulder. "So let me get this right. You're a deadly Lua martial artist, only you've never done any of the moves in public, only in front of your mirror. And instead of being taught by a mystical master like Pai Mei or Bruce Lee, you were taught by a POD?" She laughed. "While sleeping?"
He no longer smiled. "You shouldn't make fun of me."
She shook her head as she struggled not to laugh. "I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at the world . I'm laughing at what Nintendo evolved into. I'm laughing because it's far easier than crying."
Still he frowned, his eyes not quite smoldering. He had a hurt boy look, just the good side of petulance.
"Come on Andy. You can't get mad at me for that."
He stared at the muscles in his forearms for a moment, then nodded. "I'm just not used to being made fun of. I've spent a lifetime trying to change, you know." He grinned at her. "But I should have remembered. Back when I was a kid and you were the big sister, you were vicious with your retorts. Stung like nettles every time."
She grinned back as she remembered, then frowned. Was that a crack about her age? That sly dog. She watched Andy as he stared out the window. She was about to say something when he stood and reached a hand down to help her up.
"We're here."
She shrugged aside his hand and stood.
Chapter 9
I dentical three-story flats lined the street like criminals awaiting an execution. None of them were older than a few years, but the quality of the material used after the tsunami was poor, creating a drab, weather-worn look. This part of Melrose used to be fancy, but after the fires raged through Beverly Hills, nothing was left but scorched and smoking rubble. Environmentalists, savvy after decades of the cycle of fire, rain and mudslides, had the hills removed so that everything west of Sepulveda was a wide flat plane that reached the ocean.
But the aesthetic was gone. The street looked like parts of Baltimore or Brooklyn rather than Southern California. Even the palm trees had been removed. Rebecca had always loved palm trees. They grounded her, reminding her that she was in a sort of paradise. With all the problems, with all the negativity, she tried to imagine how bad it would be without palm trees. Although people didn't realize it, she'd always believed that the palms dressed up the city like a middle-class hooker in a sequined dress. Looking at the buildings, she felt the depression endemic to neighborhoods in those old industrial towns of the East Coast.
"What do you think?" Andy looked at the grime covering the front stoop. A mixture of white bird droppings and mystery grease, the steps looked far from inviting. "Do you want to go up?"
After the sterility of prison, the filth layering the concrete made Rebecca squeamish. To think she'd have to walk on that sent tendrils of let's get out of here through her system. She tried her best to ignore her inner voice. She'd come too long and too far to balk now. With a tight-lipped grin she proceeded up the steps without looking down. Once she reached the top she looked over her shoulder. "You coming, or what?"
"So I guess we're going up," he said, scampering to catch up.
The security door had been jimmied long ago and hung open an inch on sprung hinges. She opened it, strode through, passed the bank of elevators that read out of order and up the stairs.
The ascent was an orchestration of creaks and moans, each step evoking notes only a sick and dying building could make. Rebecca couldn't help but wonder at the true age of the building. If this was only a few years old as Andy had said, why'd it look so dilapidated? Why did it seem so old? New material shouldn't look this drab, nor should it break down so quickly.
She somehow managed to reach the third floor landing without falling through the floor. Only moments more and she found a door labeled O. Pavarnick .
She was barely able to wait
She punched him in the shoulder. "So let me get this right. You're a deadly Lua martial artist, only you've never done any of the moves in public, only in front of your mirror. And instead of being taught by a mystical master like Pai Mei or Bruce Lee, you were taught by a POD?" She laughed. "While sleeping?"
He no longer smiled. "You shouldn't make fun of me."
She shook her head as she struggled not to laugh. "I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at the world . I'm laughing at what Nintendo evolved into. I'm laughing because it's far easier than crying."
Still he frowned, his eyes not quite smoldering. He had a hurt boy look, just the good side of petulance.
"Come on Andy. You can't get mad at me for that."
He stared at the muscles in his forearms for a moment, then nodded. "I'm just not used to being made fun of. I've spent a lifetime trying to change, you know." He grinned at her. "But I should have remembered. Back when I was a kid and you were the big sister, you were vicious with your retorts. Stung like nettles every time."
She grinned back as she remembered, then frowned. Was that a crack about her age? That sly dog. She watched Andy as he stared out the window. She was about to say something when he stood and reached a hand down to help her up.
"We're here."
She shrugged aside his hand and stood.
Chapter 9
I dentical three-story flats lined the street like criminals awaiting an execution. None of them were older than a few years, but the quality of the material used after the tsunami was poor, creating a drab, weather-worn look. This part of Melrose used to be fancy, but after the fires raged through Beverly Hills, nothing was left but scorched and smoking rubble. Environmentalists, savvy after decades of the cycle of fire, rain and mudslides, had the hills removed so that everything west of Sepulveda was a wide flat plane that reached the ocean.
But the aesthetic was gone. The street looked like parts of Baltimore or Brooklyn rather than Southern California. Even the palm trees had been removed. Rebecca had always loved palm trees. They grounded her, reminding her that she was in a sort of paradise. With all the problems, with all the negativity, she tried to imagine how bad it would be without palm trees. Although people didn't realize it, she'd always believed that the palms dressed up the city like a middle-class hooker in a sequined dress. Looking at the buildings, she felt the depression endemic to neighborhoods in those old industrial towns of the East Coast.
"What do you think?" Andy looked at the grime covering the front stoop. A mixture of white bird droppings and mystery grease, the steps looked far from inviting. "Do you want to go up?"
After the sterility of prison, the filth layering the concrete made Rebecca squeamish. To think she'd have to walk on that sent tendrils of let's get out of here through her system. She tried her best to ignore her inner voice. She'd come too long and too far to balk now. With a tight-lipped grin she proceeded up the steps without looking down. Once she reached the top she looked over her shoulder. "You coming, or what?"
"So I guess we're going up," he said, scampering to catch up.
The security door had been jimmied long ago and hung open an inch on sprung hinges. She opened it, strode through, passed the bank of elevators that read out of order and up the stairs.
The ascent was an orchestration of creaks and moans, each step evoking notes only a sick and dying building could make. Rebecca couldn't help but wonder at the true age of the building. If this was only a few years old as Andy had said, why'd it look so dilapidated? Why did it seem so old? New material shouldn't look this drab, nor should it break down so quickly.
She somehow managed to reach the third floor landing without falling through the floor. Only moments more and she found a door labeled O. Pavarnick .
She was barely able to wait
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