In private, Tessa claimed her auntie was just lonely.
“Watch,” Helen said, walking over to the box of wine for a refill. “Once you graduate high school, time flies by. One day you guys’ll wake up and be in your thirties, too.”
“Yeah,” Tessa said, “and you’ll be a wrinkled-ass geriatric.”
They all cracked up, including Helen, who said: “Touché.” She poured herself another cup of wine and sat back down. “Seriously, though, tonight isn’t about Yahoo dot com. It’s about Joanna turning sixteen.”
Everybody nodded and turned to Joanna.
Laura raised her wine, said: “To the birthday girl.”
They all tapped cups and drank.
Joanna knew the wine was already hitting her hard, because she couldn’t stop picturing Ricky with his gun. And she kept connecting the gun to the words from her fortune cookie: “The Hour Has Finally Arrived.” She made herself smile to her girls, even laugh a little, but secretly her heart was beating out of control.
Kelly’s cell went off again on the car ride to Campos Tacos.
Joanna watched her check the screen and turn it off, slip it back in her bag. “That Ricky who keeps calling?” she asked from the backseat.
Kelly shrugged.
Joanna peered into the wine cup in her lap. Because Ricky was out of town, Marcus from Venice was supposedly stopping by Campos Tacos tonight to meet all the girls for the first time. But why’d Ricky keep calling? Joanna had a bad feeling about it. She looked up, told Kelly: “Just watch yourself, girl.”
“Ricky’s all the way in Oxnard,” Kelly said. “With his family. You need to stop stressing so much, Jo.”
“Right?” Tessa said. “All Joanna thinks about is aggravated assault and shit.”
“Excuse me for worrying about the guy who carries a concealed weapon.”
“Real life isn’t one of your crime shows, Jo.”
“You all need to wake up,” Joanna said, snapping her fingers. “According to this crime site I found, last year almost two thousand women were murdered by their man. You know that’s like three per day, right?”
Laura nearly spit out her wine in the backseat. “Did she just throw down a bibliography?”
“You like that?” Joanna said. “How about this one: Every two minutes someone in the U.S. is sexually assaulted. Every two minutes!”
“Come on, Jo,” Tessa said. “It’s your birthday celebration. Why you trying to bring everybody down?”
“You think about one thing as much as you do,” Laura said, “it’s more likely to come true.”
Joanna shook her head. Now everyone was sounding like Ronny.
“Why you think I concentrate so much about getting skinny?” Tessa said.
“The mind is a powerful thing,” Helen added from behind the wheel.
But Joanna wasn’t done. “And sixty-six percent of those assaults—guess who they’re committed by, Kel. Someone who knows the victim.”
Kelly tapped Tessa on the shoulder. “Can somebody please explain to me why she’s bringing up sexual assault?”
Tessa shrugged. “Maybe ’cause she’s Looney Tunes?”
They were all staring at Joanna as Helen pulled the Camry into the mostly empty Campos parking lot. Joanna knew she was taking it too far, that everyone just wanted to have fun on their Friday night, her birthday. But they didn’t understand it like she did. The data clearly showed that they, too, would be affected by a violent crime at some point in their lives. Either as a victim or a witness. Helen had already dealt with spousal abuse. Joanna would bet money on it. Why else was she being so quiet in the driver’s seat? But at least she’d lived through it. Would Joanna, Tessa, Laura and Kelly be so lucky?
As everybody climbed out of the car and slammed their doors closed, Joanna thought about her fortune again. What if the hour really had arrived? What if this was it?
She already regretted leaving her bag with her smokes in the car.
“You know what we wanna hear about, right?” Laura said, after Willy, the owner of Campos Tacos, seated them at their usual table inside the main dining area, the one against the window overlooking the entire parking lot.
“I believe I do,” Kelly said.
“So? Does Marcus have any cute Venice friends?”
Kelly got a big smile on her face and nodded. “Single, too.”
“Single like you’re single?” Joanna said picking up her menu.
“Here we go,” Tessa said, rolling her eyes.
“You know what, Joanna?” Kelly’s smile had disappeared. “If I want your judgment, I’ll ask for it. Okay?”
“Who’s judging?” Joanna said, laying her menu back down. “I’m just saying, Ricky’s really jealous, right? And now you tell us he’s carrying a gun? Say he finds out—”
“What’s he gonna find out?” Kelly interrupted. “He’s not even in L.A.”
“Everything’s not just about you!” Joanna said, pounding a fist on the table. “You’re putting us all in danger!”
Kelly stared at Joanna in total shock. Then a sarcastic grin slowly spread across her face. “You wanna worry about someone,” she said, “maybe you should start worrying about your little puppy dog boyfriend.”
Joanna gave Kelly a blank look. “Who, Ronny? Me and him aren’t even together.”
“You think it’s healthy how he follows you all around, Jo? Every single place you go?”
“Okay,” Laura said. “That’s enough, you guys. Everybody just chill the hell out.”
But Joanna was too pissed to chill out. “You should leave Ronny out of this,” she said, pointing at Kelly. “He’s the nicest friend I’ve ever had!”
Kelly chuckled a little, picking up her menu. “Obsessed people do strange things,” she muttered. “Even the supposedly nice ones.”
Laura leaned forward and got in both of their faces. “I’m serious! That’s enough out of you two! Jeez!”
They all went quiet for a minute, watching the busboy set down their waters. Joanna couldn’t believe Kelly, though, bringing up Ronny like that. Saying they were together when she knew it wasn’t true. Joanna was fuming. Why had she left her stupid cigarettes in the stupid car?
Soon as the busboy left, Tessa said sarcastically, “Wow, you guys. I’m really in the mood to party now.”
“Right?” Laura said.
Helen pushed back her chair and stood up. “Look,” she said. “Jo may be a little bit of a Dateline freak. But she’s our girl, right? And tonight’s her sweet sixteen. Now who’s gonna sing ‘Happy Birthday’ with me?”
Joanna followed Helen’s eyes to the restaurant owner, Willy, who was coming out of the kitchen with a chocolate cake. It took her a couple seconds to realize the cake was for her, and then her mood instantly changed.
“There’s the birthday girl!” Willy said. “Your friends, they stop by this afternoon. Help bake this specially for you.” He set the cake on the table. The white icing spelled Happy Birthday Joanna! He flicked a match, lit the first candle, then used that candle to light the rest.
“Oh, my God,” Joanna said, feeling her anger disappear. She turned to her girls. “You guys made it homemade?”
They all smiled and reached across the table to hug Joanna, one at a time. Even Kelly, who whispered in her ear: “You frustrate the shit out of me sometimes, Jo. But you know I love you, right?”
“I love you, too,” Joanna whispered back. And she genuinely meant it. She loved all her girls. Maybe it was partly the alcohol, but she found herself fighting back tears.
As everyone sang for her, Joanna stared at the sixteen little flames and thought about Ronny. Maybe he really was obsessed. He didn’t have many other friends—unless you counted people from his video game, who were probably twelve. And he did send Joanna like fifty texts a day. And what about the big talk he kept wanting to finish?
Wait a second, Joanna thought, swaying a little from the wine. Was Ronny actually dangerous? Why had she never thought of this
before?
After polishing off the cake, the girls sipped “virgin” daiquiris (which they’d spiked under the table with miniature bottles of rum) and talked and watched the parking lot start filling up outside. Joanna was beyond buzzed now. But it was her birthday. Her sweet sixteen. You were supposed to be buzzed the night you turned sixteen. And it felt like a celebration again, because everybody was back to being friends. She’d even managed to quit stressing about Ricky’s gun and Ronny’s possible obsession.
After the busboy cleared their plates, Willy shocked everybody by bringing out tequila shots “on the house.” He put a finger to his lips before passing them out and told everyone: “This happened never, you understand?”
Joanna clinked glasses with all her girls and downed the shot in one go, and they all sucked on lime wedges and looked around at each other, cringing and grinning.
That was when things started to blur for Joanna.
Thoughts spinning just beyond her grasp.
Marcus from Venice and a couple of his boys suddenly appeared inside the restaurant. They were pulling up chairs and sitting with the girls. Kelly wasn’t lying, they all looked good in that Vans-wearing, skaterish way—especially Marcus. Hooded sweatshirts and baggy jeans, chains connecting wallets to belt loops. But at the same time, they looked sort of rough, too. Marcus had the Venice Beach zip code tattooed on the side of his neck. One of his boys had a jagged pink scar under his right eye, like he’d recently been knifed. Joanna wondered how well Kelly even knew these guys. Before she realized what was happening, she had started chanting her fortune to herself, over and over: The hour has finally arrived the hour has finally arrived the hour has finally arrived the hour has finally …
She only stopped when Kelly got up and sat next to her.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Kelly was saying in a low voice. “I actually like Ronny. I just wished you supported my decisions, Jo. Even when they’re not exactly perfect.”
“You honestly think he might be obsessed, though?” Joanna asked.
“Who, Ronny?” Kelly smiled and shook her head. “Nah, I think he just really, really likes you. Probably every girl secretly wishes her man liked her that much.”
But Kelly’s eyes told a different story.
They shouted: You’re the only one who doesn’t see it, Joanna! Ronny’s extremely dangerous! He’s on his way to a life of violent crime! If you don’t get away now, you’ll be his first victim!
Joanna was about to ask Kelly how she knew, but Kelly was pulled into a conversation with Marcus. So Joanna just sat there swaying, eyes all bugged, jonesing for a smoke to calm her nerves. She suddenly remembered an old 20/20 special about a guy who worked in a bank. He seemed normal enough to all his coworkers. Dressed like a regular guy, always said hi in the halls. Nobody had any idea about his secret obsession with a blond coworker. One night he followed the woman home after their shift together, snuck into her parking garage and grabbed her by the hair near the stairwell. After a brief struggle, he stabbed her forty-seven times. The whole thing was caught on a surveillance camera. According to reports, when the cops arrived on the scene, the man was just sitting by the woman’s body, rocking back and forth. He admitted to everything. When they asked why he did it, tears began streaming down his face. He loved her, he said. With all his heart. Nobody would ever love her the way he did.
In the middle of remembering the mug shot of the man that flashed across her TV screen, Joanna glanced out the restaurant window. What she saw made her drop her daiquiri glass and scream.
It was Ronny.
Staring in at her.
“Jesus, Jo,” Tessa said, looking down at the shattered glass. “Are you completely wasted?”
Joanna pointed out the window where Ronny was standing alone, holding a paper-bagged bottle and a bouquet of flowers. He grinned and gave a little wave.
Joanna knew in that moment that her life was in jeopardy.
“It’s just Ronny,” Tessa said.
Joanna turned to look at her. “He was supposed to wait till I called.” She was paralyzed with fear. She couldn’t focus her eyes.
“Yo, is she okay?” one of the Venice guys said to Kelly.
“You should go talk to him, Jo,” Laura said.
Joanna’s heart pounded as she pushed back from the table and got up. She stumbled past the hostess stand and approached the front door thinking of the Chinese fortune folded in her pocket. The hour really had arrived. Finally. ’Cause maybe this had always been her destiny. To become a Dateline special, a case that girls all over the country would watch in terror. She imagined the reenacted parts as she pushed through the door. The actress had to be strong, though. That seemed important. Which meant Joanna would have to be strong from this moment on.
Ronny was on one knee in front of the restaurant, holding out the flowers. “For the beautiful birthday girl,” he said with his sociopath smile. How had she never noticed this before?
Joanna snatched the flowers out of his hand, said: “What are you doing here?”
“I got you a gift, too, Jo. It’s in my ride.”
“What ride?”
“Jessie let me borrow the Durango. Him and his wife say happy birthday, too, by the way.”
Joanna was spinning from the booze. She had to lean against the wall to stay upright. But she wouldn’t let Ronny think she was scared. “I was supposed to call you,” she barked. “After I hung out with my friends—”
“I know, I know,” Ronny said. “But I had to at least drop off the flowers.”
She looked at them for the first time. Pink and white roses. Didn’t this color combo symbolize murder?
“But you don’t get the gift until later,” he said. “That’s the surprise part.”
“Oh, that’s what you’re calling it now?” Joanna said. “My surprise?”
Ronny looked confused. “What are you talking about, Jo?”
She pointed at the paper-bagged bottle by his feet. “And what’s going on there? You don’t even drink.”
Ronny reached down, slid the bottle out of the bag. Grape soda. “Look,” he said. “I’m not trying to cut in on girl time. Go have fun and text me when you’re ready to head home. I’ll just take a walk or something.”
Joanna could see right through Ronny’s little act. How had she not noticed any of this before? The shifty eyes. The way he nervously played with the small hole in his Raiders sweatshirt. God, she’d almost agreed to be his girlfriend. She glanced out toward the parking lot, saw the Durango. She definitely wasn’t getting in no car with Ronny.
He gave her a little salute and turned to take off. He only made it a couple steps, though, before he spun back around, said: “Try not to drink too much, Jo. I was thinking we could finish our talk on the way home. About me and you.”
Joanna stood there, swaying, heart racing.
And if he didn’t get the answer he wanted? Was that when he’d pull the knife from the glove box? Drive it into one of her vital organs?
As she watched Ronny walk out of the parking lot, she could already hear the voice-over for her Dateline episode saying: And then the victim made what proved to be a fatal mistake. She followed young Ronny Muñoz back to the borrowed Durango to retrieve a promised birthday gift. Less than twenty-four hours later, Joanna Garcia of Mar Vista, California, would be buried alive in a remote northeast corner of Runyon Canyon Park.
Joanna stumbled back into the restaurant just as everyone else was filing out. “Come on,” Laura said, “we’re all getting fresh air.”
Joanna swayed as she watched everybody move past her, toward the parking lot. Laura, Marcus from Venice and his boys, Kelly. Tessa stopped to ask if everything was okay. Joanna wanted so badly to tell her about Ronny. How she was scared of him for the first time in her life. How she was considering whether or not to call the cops now, before he had a chance to do anything. But she was afraid if she let out even one word, she’d start sobbing. And that wasn’t how she wanted people to r
emember her.
“Girl, go get yourself some water,” Tessa said. “You’re not looking super stable. Helen will help, she’s still in there talking to Willy.”
Joanna only made it a few steps inside the restaurant before she heard arguing coming from the kitchen. Sounded like Helen and Willy. To be sure, she checked their table by the window. Nobody. Then she heard a loud crashing sound in the kitchen.
Joanna stood there stunned.
Maybe this was the crime she sensed was coming. Maybe Willy was in there hurting Helen. Joanna had read on the Internet how common it was for women to go from one abusive relationship to another. She had to save Helen.
Joanna marched toward the kitchen, pushed through the saloon doors. It was Helen and Willy, all right, but they weren’t fighting. They were making out on one of the kitchen counters, surrounded by scattered slices of lime.
When Helen looked up, Joanna took off.
She was so confused. And so drunk. She stumbled back to their table by the window and sat down to think. She was more convinced than ever something awful was going to happen. She just didn’t know what. And she didn’t know where to look or who to keep an eye on. Maybe she was wrong about Ronny. Like she was wrong about Helen and Willy. She pulled out her fortune and read it again. “The hour has finally arrived.” The words seemed to swim around on the slip of paper, like they were alive.
She shoved the fortune into her mouth.
Maybe if she swallowed it whole she’d get rid of its power. But that was too crazy, so she pulled it from her mouth and held it over the candle flame, watched it slowly catch fire and then twist and shrink into blackness.
The embers reminded Joanna of her cigarettes, and she reached into Helen’s bag for the car keys. Even though her stomach was off, and the room was spinning, she had to have something to calm her down. If she was still alive tomorrow, she’d throw away the pack.
Just as she stood up with Helen’s keys, though, she heard screeching tires in the parking lot. Through the window she saw Ricky’s tricked-out Civic.
Her heart climbed into her throat.
She had it right from the beginning. Ricky and his gun. Marcus from Venice and his thugged-out friends. Suddenly things grew clear for Joanna. She had to save Kelly’s life.