“That why you broke up?”
“We didn’t break up, because we weren’t like going together, you know?”
“What was your relationship?”
“We knew each other. For years. From Beverly, we had classes together. Then he went to college to do whatever, and I decided to study design. It’s better at SMC than at some university, you know.”
“SMC’s strong on design?”
“For sure. You can just do it and not mess with all that other stuff.”
“Like psychology,” I said.
She grinned. “You caught me. Again. That research story was pretty lame, huh?”
“Beyond lame.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I should’ve prepared something better. How’d you catch me?”
“You weren’t exactly subtle.”
“I never got caught before.”
“Been doing it for a while,” I said.
She started to reply, shut her mouth.
“Kayla?”
“I thought you weren’t going to bother me about that if I told you about Gavin.”
“You brought it up.”
“I did?”
I nodded.
“Oh,” she said. “Well, then I effed up. Let’s stick to Gavin. Which I didn’t. Stick to him, you know?” She laughed. Stopped and placed a finger across her lips. Spanked her hand. “Bad Kayla. I shouldn’t be doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Laughing at him, his being dead and all.”
“Any idea who killed him?” I said.
“Nope.”
“A girl was found with him. Blond, about your size—”
“Skankadoo,” she said.
“You know her?”
“I’ve seen her. He like showed her off to me. As if. My friend Ellie said she looked like me, but I was like get a refund on your LASIK, girl. Then Ellie was like, ‘Not like a twin, Kayle, like just a little. Like if you had a rough night.’ ” She shook her head. “No way; that thing was trailer-trash skankplasm. But then I thought maybe Gavin, being brain-damaged and all, liked her because he thought she did look like me. Because he couldn’t have me, and she was like sloppy seconds, you know?”
“When did he show her off to you?”
“After I told him no more quickie-city.”
“After the accident?”
“Way after,” she said. “This was like—couple of months ago? I thought he’d stopped bugging me ’cause I hadn’t heard from him in a while, but then he started calling me again. I expected him to like break down and beg, you know? Because he claimed he was really into me. But he just called and wanted to hang out. So that proves he was lying, he really wasn’t into me. Right?”
“Unusual for Gavin,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Giving up so easily. I’ve heard he could be pretty persistent.”
“After the accident he got really weird that way. Started calling me again, like twenty times a day. Dropping over, bugging my dad.” Faint smile. “I guess he did end up begging. Then he stopped.”
Because he was stalking Beth Gallegos. I said, “So he wanted to hang out.”
“He wanted to go somewhere and park and put his cock in my mouth. I felt sorry for him, so I did it once. But never again.”
“No more speed-record sex,” I said.
“You’re making me sound mean,” she said, pulling at loose strands and trying to stuff them back in the beret. Unsuccessful, she yanked off the hat and began kneading it.
“You should apologize,” she said.
“For what?”
“Saying I’m mean and a slut.”
“You said you felt sorry for Gavin—”
“Exactly. I was being nice. After the accident he got kind of . . . I don’t want to say retarded because it sounds so mean, but really, that’s what it was. So I felt sorry for him and wanted to help him.”
“Makes sense,” I said.
“It does,” she agreed.
“So Gavin slowed down intellectually.”
“Like before, he could be obnoxious, but he was smart. But now—it was . . .” She probed her cheek with her tongue. “I want to say pathetic.”
“Sounds like it was.”
“Huh?”
“Pathetic.”
“Yeah, exactly, like it really was.”
“The time you went out with him—”
“It was only once. I felt sorry for him.”
“Where’d you park?”
“Up on Mulholland?” Her mouth froze in a tiny O. “That was where—omigod.”
“Was that a regular spot for you and Gavin? Back in the old days?”