I panicked and blurted out, “Fen’s helping to look for your Holy Grail for us.”
One of my dad’s brows shot up. “Oh, really?”
“Double Deuce,” Fen confirmed. “Can’t promise anything, but I have some connections online. I’m trying to track one down. Not an easy thing to find. Henry Rollins fans typically don’t want to part with their stuff. But I guess you know that already.”
Boom. My dad was a goner now. The two of them talked shop for a minute. Two. Ten. Long enough for me to pull out a bottle of water and a tiny plastic cup I carried around in my pack for Frida—jeez, she was super thirsty. Long enough for me to watch Fen in secret from where I crouched on the ground near a pine tree, as if I were a bird watcher stalking a rare bird… observing him in the wild.
His hair was in disaster mode, which I knew made him look like some kind of hoodlum in my father’s eyes. It seemed as if all his clothes were black to match his dark moods. Probably another strike against him.
But.
I liked the way he was serious about what he was saying, making definitive gestures with those sexy, elegant hands of his. Heknew what he was talking about, and when he didn’t, he wasn’t afraid to admit it. He did a lot of listening. His eyes were sharp and wary. He crossed his arms over his chest a lot. But he didn’t talk down to my dad. I was thankful for that.
Fen was a lot. Dramatic. Dark. Not easy or golden. He required special instructions.
So did I.
My observation was interrupted when Frida decided she had to poop, so I walked her through the shrubland, away from the road, behind some manzanita bushes. By the time we came back, Fen was in the cab of the Jeep and Dad was under the hood yelling, “Try it now.”
Fen turned the key, and the Jeep started up.
“Oh shit!” Fen called out. “You did it!”
“Told you he was a genius,” I said.
Dad slammed down the hood. “Yeah, well, it won’t hold forever. That wiring has got to be replaced. It could go out again in five minutes, or it may hold for a month. No telling. So why don’t Jane and I follow you home, just to make sure you make it? Then when you get enough cash for the wiring, let me know. I’ll come into town and replace it. Won’t take long.”
“Yeah,” Fen said. “That sounds good. I really appreciate it, Mr. Marlow.”
“Call me Leo. And you’re welcome.”
I gave Fen a thumbs-up, and he held up his hand. See? Just two people who definitely were only hanging out, bonding about music and our mutual connections. Like I told Dad.
Everything was fine.
But when I hopped in the SUV that Dad had driven from the lodge, and we pulled out onto the freeway behind Fen, I could tell that my father had something on his mind.
“Oh my God,” I told him, sinking behind the seat belt with Frida in my lap. “What now? Did he say something to offend your gentle sensibilities? Did he besmirch the Marlow name—or worse, did he say something about Henry Rollins or the L.A. punk scene?”
Dad shook his head slowly. “He knows his shit. Smart kid. About music, at least.”
“But…?”
“No buts.”
Okay. That was weird.
“He know about your aphasia?” Dad asked, watching the Jeep ahead of us.
“Yeah,” I said. “He actually figured it out himself. But I told him.”
I didn’t want to let Dad know that Fen was the one who pulled me out of the water. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he’d read too much into it. Or maybe because I liked that it was our secret for now. Besides, Dad and I stayed out of each other’s business.
It was the Marlow way.
“He’s not a bad person,” I told Dad, stroking Frida’s sleek body. “Serj kicked him out of the house because of personal stuff. Just drama with him and Eddie. Fen and his mother are still close.”
“The same mother who wants to help you find an apartment for you and herotherson?”
