The heat hit like a freight train. Terminal doors auto-closed behind them. “Everyone!” Reba cried. “Back inside!”
“Relax,” Catherine Baker said. “The car will have air conditioning.”
“Does it have ice water and a cool compress?”
Catherine was sympathetic. “I’m guessing, no.”
“Be patient.” Walt said. “We’re all in the same boat. Or the same desert.” He chuckled. That was a mistake.
“Patient? I’ve got a baby inside me. And we’re both hot!”
They plunged ahead. No one wore hats. That was a mistake. At least for Walt. He followed behind, a hand over his bald spot.
The street smelled like a toaster. A jet banked high in the blazing sky. Potted cactuses bloomed with waxy, pink blossoms. Trimmed and manicured California Palms arched overhead, throwing ragged shadows on the sidewalk. In a startling wall, mountains bleak and naked dwarfed a Lilliputian city.
Once under the concrete ramp, Reba groaned. It was no cooler here. Numbered pillars stretched off in the distance. “How much further?” she asked.
“Let’s see,” Walt said, consulting the Avis receipt. “Not far.”
“How far?”
“This is row twenty-one. Our vehicle is at… eighty-seven.”
“Eighty-seven!” she cried. Hair a-frazzle, waddling in sandals, Reba was very much the pregnant woman.
“Why not wait here?” Walt asked. “Catherine and I will grab the car and pick you up.” He smiled hopefully. Reba gave him a look of pure hatred. He wiped his brow with a hairy arm. The women hitched their bags. Like Mormons with oxcarts, they trekked on.
* * *
The cool, dark lobby of the hotel spread before them. Reba sighed, inhaling icy air. Recovering instantly, she became all business, approaching the first employee she spotted, a waiter outside the restaurant. Opening a glass case, he put up the dinner menu.
“Do you work here?” she asked, somewhat foolishly.
“Of course.” He turned a helpful face to her. Middle-aged, exceedingly handsome, he wore a bit of makeup, just a hint of blush.
“We’re looking for a man.”
“Is he a guest?”
“Yes. I mean no. I mean, we don’t know.”
“Hmm..”
“He’s a good-looking man, well-dressed, slender, a short beard. Sixty but looks forty.”
“Darling,” the waiter smiled. “That’s every man in Palm Springs.”
“He’s traveling with a pretty young woman.”
“That does narrow it down.”
They retired early. Reba had wanted to search for Li-Li, but one look at the shocking streets changed her mind. Friday night in Downtown Palm Springs was no time to search for anyone. Palm Canyon Drive throbbed with dance music. In a cage high above a man gyrated in a black thong. Why had Schatz brought Li-Li here? What a monster he was!
Catherine Baker did not go to her room early. She lounged by the rooftop pool. Ice tinkling in a tall glass, she admired the deep blue sky, the dark, rocky peaks. Storefronts below were suffused in a soft aqua glow. It was an even one hundred, with a hot but not unpleasant breeze.
She wore a halter and tight skirt, which she hiked up her round, golden thighs, way up.
She loved Reba, but didn’t share her world-view. Not at all. At the bar two men sat with martinis. They were in business of some kind. She could tell. One of them looked her way and she smiled at him. He waved his glass. What a dull world it would be if everyone behaved.
Richard Donnelly lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Classic flyover land. Which makes us feel just a little… superior. He publishes a weekly column of essays on the writing life at richarddonnelly.substack.com