Rock Con Roll (Chapter 3, page 1 of 8)

Previous Page
Next Page

Chapter 3

Since I was back in Los Angeles, I decided to drive around my old neighborhood. Could any of my friends still be there? Would they be at the same places? I went out to find the remnants of my childhood.

I got into my rented brown sedan and cruised the streets. The car was painfully ugly, but it looked like every other car out there, so it accomplished Bea’s cardinal rule of not drawing attention. As I drove, I called Elle. Unlike my manipulative foster mother who I’d avoided for years, I did keep in touch with my sister, the only remaining member of my family after Jay had died. She was still a con artist, running a crew of grifters up in Oregon. Of course, Elle never told Bea we were in touch—she knew I wanted to keep my whereabouts a secret.

Elle had left town a few years after I did, but unlike my departure, hers was an amicable separation. After the splash I’d made on my way out, Bea didn’t want any more trouble, so she let Elle go without a fight. They even kept in touch with occasional phone calls.

I should have called my sister last night before I left, but everything had happened so quickly that I didn’t think to do it. Now I regretted that oversight. Elle knew Bea much better than I did, and I needed some of her wisdom if I expected to make it through this visit. My foster mother certainly had something brewing.

Elle picked up quickly. “Hey, sis. What’s up?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but I’m back in L.A. Just saw Bea.”

“What! Do you have a death wish? That woman still hates you for running off. God! No wonder we called you ‘Dummy’ when we were kids.”

“Hey, Loser. . .” I threw back her childhood nickname, just for fun. Then I let out a long breath. “Actually, you may be right. She called me last night with some lie about Uncle Carl being in trouble, so I came out today. Even did a small job for her which I thought would help him. Anyway, I’m here now, and she’s not screaming at me like I thought she would. In fact, she seems happy to see me.”

Bea was happy to see me? As soon as I said that, I knew it was wrong. Even Elle laughed at my preposterous statement. Bea’s happiness wasn’t about me, it was about the panda. The only thing that ever made her happy was a successful con job. But it never lasted because the next job was always waiting.

Previous Page
Next Page

Rate This Book

Current Rating: 3.0/5 (97 votes cast)

Review This Book or Post a Comment