This Story Might Save Your Life(8)

He pushes his lower lip out in thought. “Haven’t seen them today, no.”

“Has there been anyone else on the property? Or lingering around outside?” I can see that Carlotta knows why I’m asking. She raises her eyes to Emil, who shakes his head.

“What about the MG?” If anyone were to notice it around, it would be Emil, seeing that Xander bought it off him only a few months ago. “It’s not in the garage.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Emil slaps his bare stomach with a laugh. “You were starting to worry me for a second. They must be out for a spin.”

He sounds so confident I don’t bother reiterating the fact that this is not something they would do when we’re about to record.

“He’s right,” Carlotta says with a firm nod. “They’re grown adults. I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. Now go on up to the gate.” She waves us toward the street, already backing away. “I’ll have Emil meet you with a couple boxes of veggies.”

Mallory and I exchange uncertain frowns but do as she says.



* * *



THREE HOURS LATER, we’re no closer to answers. We’ve called everyone we can think of, but no one’s seen or heard from either Joy or Xander. We’ve double-checked our socials. We even drove the neighborhood in case Joy took Potsie for a walk alone—an unlikely scenario considering her current reluctance to leave the house. Nonetheless, we checked every path, every dead end, every alley, until we could say with relative certainty that she wasn’t dozing in any gutters. Out of ideas for now, Mallory and I figure the least we can do is help board up the window, lest a family of raccoons move in when no one’s watching.

At the bottom of Joy’s terraced yard is a windowless metal shed. I pull a string and the light bulb buzzes to life. The dust is caked on in some places; in others, it’s been recently swept. In the corner are the old paint cans the previous owners transferred with the property. Propped against the far wall, behind a wheelbarrow, is an array of wood scraps.

I move the wheelbarrow and start plonking old boards and pallets aside to reach the half sheet of plywood in the back. Even over the racket I’m making, I can hear Richie barking at the top of the yard. I yell at him to stop as I slide my findings out the door.

“Watch for splinters,” Mallory calls from a nearby tree stump.

“I could use a hand.” I can carry it myself but I don’t want to. What I want is for Joy to walk through the gate and explain that she lost her phone, or took a nap in the grocery store, or needed stitches after cutting herself on broken glass.

Mallory sidles up to the plywood, but before we lift I say, “Can I tell you something, and can you promise not to jump to conclusions?”

She studies me with piercing scrutiny. “You know you can, and you know I can’t.”

I weigh my options, decide it’s a bad idea to go on, and do it anyway. “I was here last night. After we recorded.”

Her eyebrows lift.

“You promised not to jump to conclusions.”

“No, I didn’t. Was Xander home?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She stretches the word out. “And you’re telling me this because…”

“Because I’m not sure what to think. I didn’t stay long. She kicked me out almost as soon as I got here.” I focus on a knot in the plywood. “Before that, though, she said some stuff.”

Richie is howling now. Again, I yell. Again, he ignores me.

“It’s probably the coyote.” Mallory pronounces it like Judge Carlotta. “What stuff?”

“She said she wanted to take a break from the podcast.”

“A break,” Mallory repeats.

“Obviously I get it,” I go on, already uncomfortable. “It’s been a bad couple of months. We should take a break. But…”

“The contract.”

“I feel bad even saying it. It’s only money.”

“Life-changing money.”

“It’s not about the money,” I say as firmly as I can. “It’s just, I thought we were on the same page.” I cringe, remembering the look on her face when she told me to leave. The things I said. I may never stop cringing. “So I guess I’m wondering if you have any … insights. To share.”

Richie’s howls are now interspersed with whiny yaps. I can’t read Mallory’s expression. “Do you?” I ask.

She shakes her head. Then, “Richie sounds weird.”

I don’t want to change the subject now that we’re here, but she’s right. Reluctantly, I follow her around the house, and when I see what my dog is barking at, I start running.

Potsie is outside the gate. Alone.





Joy Moore


EXCERPT FROM UNTITLED JOINT MEMOIR WITH BENNY ABBOTT

Thirteen Years Ago

Things I didn’t know about Los Angeles when I first moved here:

Public transportation sucks. There are as many struggling actors as they say. Name-dropping is weirdly common. There is far more creativity per capita than the average city. There is far more beauty per capita than the average city. You can make over $200,000 a year and still not be able to afford a home. Graffiti is ubiquitous, as are hairy palm trees, which tend to drop their fronds whenever it’s windy. It’s often windy. Traffic is as bad as everyone says. Concerts at the Hollywood Bowl are magical, as are symphonies at the Walt Disney Concert Hall. You can make over $300,000 a year and still not be able to afford a home. If you don’t live near the beach, summers can be brutally hot. The Pacific Coast is glorious. It rarely rains. People actually like that it rarely rains. When the sky does open, it opens biblically to mudslides, floods, and heroic dog rescues in the Los Angeles River. Also, accidents: Angelenos can’t drive in the rain to save their lives. Streets are frequently blocked off for filming. Street parking is a nightmare. Cars are status symbols. People are excited to talk about politics. Trees lose their leaves in December and bloom in January. There are only a few hiking trails with adequate shade. You can make over $400,000 a year and still not be able to afford a “good” home. Unhealthy air-quality days occur frequently. Because of the particulate matter causing said air, sunsets are spectacular. Exercise is best done publicly: yoga in parks, weight training in gyms with wall-to-wall windows, bike rides on beaches, runs on dusty paths. Street tacos are scrumptious. The West Hollywood Halloween parade is second to none. Earthquakes are rare. Fire season is terrifying. Celebrity sightings are common. LAX is a disaster. If you go to a concert alone, you might end up meeting your soulmate.