With her face free of makeup, Miranda thought she probably didnt look much more than a teenager herself.
Thanks for the gum. Im Jenny, by the way. Shrugging, she said, I guess you could say I live here. I caught some zs last night at the bus depot. Sometimes the cops run us out. Last night I got lucky. She stripped the paper off the gum. Both women cast sidelong glances at the scruffy black-and-white terrier now sitting placidly at Mirandas feet.
If hes not yours or mine, then whose is he? Kneeling, Miranda ran a hand around his neck in search of a collar. She and Jenny were alone on either side of the street for at least a block. Hes not tagged.
Big surprise. Hes been dumped. This areas well-known as a dumping ground for homeless people and strays.
So are you, uh, homeless? Miranda asked hesitantly.
The girls grin softened otherwise hard features. Depending on who you ask, Im both homeless and a stray. You by chance got any smokes?
Sorry, its not a habit I ever picked up.
Lucky you. Jenny continued to stare. You have a smokers voice. Unless its your accent. Are you from down South?
Used to be. Miranda rolled one shoulder. Preferring to change the subject, she straightened and said, I may not have cigarettes, but I have two sandwiches. A guy on the bus took pity on me at the last stop. I wasnt hungry then, but Im fixin to be now. He said ones roast beef on wheat. The others tuna on rye. Ill give you first pick.
Cool. How about we split fifty-fifty? I havent eaten since yesterday. Eric, hes my buddy, lucked out and got a gig playing at a wedding reception last night. He promised me hed nab leftovers. Anyway, hell come away with a chunk of change. It wont be that much, though. And Eric needs new strings for his guitar.
Mirandas stomach sank. Oh, your friend is a musician?
Yeah. Me, too. Well, not really. She pulled a wry face. Me and a girlfriend tried to break into rock and roll. But Felicitythats my friendshe, uh, died. Sudden tears halted Jennys explanation.
Mirandas sympathetic murmur prompted the girl to continue. Felicity and me had a real scummy audition, see. Theyre all hard. Some are really bad. The jerk in charge made us feel like shit. And my friend had her heart set on getting that job. Felicitys brother is, like, some finance guru to big-deal stars. She wanted to impress him. So it, like, hit her super hard when the guy said we were totally awful. Felicity mustve gone straight out and bought some bad dope. Eric and me, we found her and carried her to County Hospital straight away. But it was too late.
Im sorry. Mirandas temples had begun to pound, if not from trying to follow Jennys narrative, then from hunger. She took out the sack of sandwiches and sat on the low brick wall fencing an empty lot.
Wasnt it her bad luck to run into a wannabe songbird? And did this girl take drugs? Still, how could she renege on her promise to share her sandwiches? Handing over half of one, Miranda asked casually, Is rock and roll all you sing? What about rap, oruhcountry?
Bite your tongue. Dont say a dirty word like country around my crowd. Theyll run you out of town on a rail.
Relieved, Miranda looked up and realized the dog had followed her. He gazed at her hopefully, his liquid brown eyes tracking her every move. Okay, mutt. Jeez. Ill give you the meat out of my sandwich.
Jenny was already wolfing down her portion. I hope you wanted a petuh Whats your name, anyway? Just a warning, but if you feed him, hes yours forever.
Ive never had a pet, Miranda confessed. I wouldnt mind keeping him. Forcompanionship.
Jenny bobbed her head. I hear you. I wouldve loved a dog or cat, but my mom couldnt feed her kids, let alone pets.
My dad fed me fine. Its more that we traveled a lot. More than a lot, Miranda admitted, tossing another thin slice of beef to the dog. The poor starved beast didnt gobble it in one bite as one might expect. Instead, he thanked her with his eyes, then sank to his belly to take small, dainty bites.
Would you look at that. Jenny paused to smile. I still didnt catch your name. I cant be calling you, hey you.
Just in case the girl read the newspapers, Miranda stammered a bit and then settled on a short version. ItsRandi.
Cool. I wish my mom had come up with a classier name than Jennifer. The girl frowned.
I spell Randi with an i, not a y, Miranda said for lack of a better comment.
Jenny raised a brow. Doesnt matter how you spell it down here. Only time spellings an issue is if a cop hauls you in or you end up in the morgue.
Pondering that chilling statement, Miranda halted in the act of feeding the last of her sandwich meat to the terrier. As if to punctuate Jennys words, a police car rounded the corner and slowed. Both women stiffened. Cripes, now what? Miranda muttered.
Jenny swallowed her final bite, wiped her mouth and said, Its okay. Thats Benny Garcia. This is his beat. For a cop, hes cool. All the same, let me do the talking.
Miranda noted that the uniformed man and Jenny exchanged nods. But her blood ran cold as he pulled to the curb and stepped out of his cruiser. What if he recognized her from the flyers that had surely circulated through major police departments?
He didnt. He gave her only a cursory glance, frankly taking more interest in the dog. Cute little guy. Bending, he rubbed the wriggling animals belly. If youre planning to stick around here, kid, youll need to leash and license him.
Opening her mouth to deny the dog was hers, she stopped abruptly at the cops next words. If hes lost or a stray, Ill phone the pound to pick him up. The man stood and reached for a cell phone clipped to his belt.
Ill get a license. Miranda scooped up the black-and-white bundle of fur. Where do I go? Im new to L.A.
Thought so. Hmm. The bad news, kid, is that youve gotta supply your full name and home address to get a dog license.
Miranda bit down hard on her lower lip.
Figures. Garcia let out a long sigh. Why cant you kids just stay home? Running away solves nothing. Trouble always follows. What kind of way is that to live?
The cops couldnt stop my moms drunken rages, Jenny snapped. Out here, I have a fighting chance. My friends and me do fine.
Weather bureau says its gonna be a cold winter. You and your friends should reconsider moseying up north to that new ranch for teens. I gave Eric a flyer for it yesterday. A guy I know, John Montoya, hes seen the place. Says the owners ordered cows and chickens. Imaginefresh milk and eggs every morning without having to scrounge for leftovers from restaurant Dumpsters.
With one holey sneaker, Jenny scraped at a weed struggling up through a crack in the sidewalk. Ericll want to stay near the action. Hes got some contacts. Any minute he could land a gig thatll make us stars.
The cop eyed her obliquely. How many times have I heard that one? At least think it over. Like I said to Eric, Montoya tells me itll mean hot meals and a solid roof over your heads through a bad winter. Weigh that against the scuzzy shelters around here. The owner isnt asking much in return. Help tilling a few fields so therell be produce to eat in the spring. Eric can drive a tractor, cant he?