Steven Thomas - Criminal Carma

“It don’t mean ‘absent without leave,’” he said. “Means ‘always west of Lincoln.’ Lot of us down here don’t like to go too far from the shore. Everything we need is right here.”

“Really?” I said. “You don’t go past Lincoln?” That busy avenue was only eight or nine blocks inland. The ashram was just within that boundary.

Budge shrugged. “I might go as far as the 405 a couple of times a year, but that’s about it, bro. There ain’t no point. Everyone in the world wants to come here, and we’re already here.”

Mary saw a girl she knew passing by and went over to say hello. Budge watched her going.

“Damn, Rob,” he said. “Where’d you snag that little hottie? I thought Reggie was the ladies’ man.”

“I get lucky every once in a while,” I said. “What’s in the bag?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, holding his free hand over his abdomen. “Laxative,” he said.

“Problems?”

He nodded very slightly, like a headwaiter acknowledging a bribe. “I ain’t shit in three days,” he whispered.

When Mary came back, she had Ozone Pacific with her.

“Look who I found,” Mary said, putting her hand on Oz’s shoulder.

“Hey, little buddy,” Budge said, exchanging his constipated grimace for an affectionate grin. “What you up to today?”

“Hi, Budge. Hi, Rob,” Oz said, giving us his trademark smile. “I was thinking about taking a bus out to the country today to visit a farm or something. Do they have farms like that, Rob? Where you can see cows and horses and stuff and ride on a tractor?”

“They probably do,” I said. “I’ll find out for you. How’s everything else going?”

“Great,” he said. “It’s a bee-you-tee-full day at the beach!”

“I see you’ve been hanging with Mr. Parker,” I said.

Oz nodded happily. The old parking lot attendant sometimes bought the boy dinner after he knocked off for the day. I had seen the two of them sitting at the counter where Mary and I had Cokes, Ozone devouring a hamburger and french fries while Mr. Parker explained the finer points of backing big cars into tight places and removing scratches with rubbing compound.

“Where’d you get those cock boots?” Budge asked Oz. The boy’s ragged tennis shoes had been supplanted by a pair of brown cowboy boots with black stitching. They were a little bit run-down at the heels but still in good shape overall. The color matched the brown of his two-tone cowboy shirt.

“Mr. Parker gave them to me,” Oz said. “They were his grandson’s but he got too big for them. He’s a six-footer.”

“They’re really nice,” Mary said. “Those are just what you’ll need for a trip to the country.” Then, in a gentler voice, she asked: “Did your mom ever show up?”

The smile fell from Oz’s face, leaving it looking haggard and aged, like the face of a famine victim.

“No,” he said. “She didn’t come. I walked all the way down to Ozone looking for her, but I couldn’t find her. I waited all day but she never came back.”

The street he mentioned intersected the boardwalk a mile north of the palm tree where he hung out.

“Ozone isn’t that far,” I said, with false heartiness, trying to counter his mood.

“It sure seemed far,” he said in a small voice.

“Aw, cheer up, little buddy,” Budge said, slapping him on the back. “Maybe she’ll come see you next weekend.”

Ozone’s wide eyes were amazed and hopeful. “Do you think so, Budge?”

“Never can tell,” Budge said. “Come on, let’s walk back down to the house and get something to eat. You going that way, Rob?”

“No, I’m going to walk Mary back to the ashram.”

“Do you live at the ash farm?” Oz asked Mary.

“Yeah, for right now,” Mary said.

“Do you know when Baba Raba is coming back to the beach?”

“He’ll probably be down here in the next day or two. Why?”

“I just want to ask him about something”

“We’re gonna get going,” Budge said. “Come on, Oz.”

“Let’s walk with them,” Mary said, taking my arm in hers. “It’s such a pretty afternoon, I don’t feel like going back yet. Evening meditation isn’t for another couple of hours.”

“No argument here.”

“I shouldn’t have asked about his mother,” she said as Oz and Budge went on ahead. “It upset him.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I squeezed her hand. “He’ll be fine. She’ll show up one of these days.”

The four of us strolled leisurely southward, Oz telling Budge how beautiful the country was, Mary and I stopping occasionally to look at the vendors’ wares. I bought her a mood ring, and when she put it on it glowed bright green.

“That means a romantic feeling,” said the old woman selling the rings.

“Oh, really?” Mary said. She held her hand out in front of her to look at the ring, then looked over at me, smiling. “Maybe there’s hope for you, pal.”

Before long, we came to Wave Crest. Antonio’s restaurant was halfway between the boardwalk and Pacific Avenue. Two men were talking by the entrance. The older one, about sixty, was dressed like a waiter, in black pants and a white shirt. He had thick, wavy gray hair and a drooping mustache. The second man looked even more Italian than the first, with an aquiline nose, olive complexion, and dyed black hair slicked straight back. He was wearing a dark, expensive-looking suit. When he smiled, his capped teeth and shark’s eyes looked familiar.

“Who are those guys,” I asked Budge.

“The old guy is Gianni,” Budge said. “The other guy is that crook Discenza. He’s the s.o.b. behind that hotel and marina they’re trying to build.”

“What’s he doing down here?”

“He owns Antonio’s,” Budge said. “You guys go on without me. I want to ask Gianni something. I’ll catch up with you.”

Mary, Oz, and I walked a few blocks farther south to Westminster.

“We’re going to peel off here,” I said to Ozone. “You want to walk back to the ashram with us and see if you can talk to Baba?”

“No, I’ll wait for Budge,” Ozone said. “If you see Mr. Baba, tell him I said hello.”

After we crossed Pacific Avenue, I looked back and saw Ozone standing at the curb on the west side, waving to us like a passenger at the rail of a cruise ship, setting sail on a voyage from which he would never return.

“Bye, Rob. Bye, Mary.”

“Bye, Oz.”

“Goodbye!” Mary waved back at him.

At the ashram, we went along the side of the house into the backyard. At first I thought all the karma yogis were gone, but then I noticed Johnny sitting on the bench where Mary and I had sat, facing the statue of the Virgin Mary. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed.

At the bottom of the kitchen steps, Mary turned and kissed the corner of my mouth and looked up at me with her eyes sparkling.

“Thank you so-o-o-o much, Robert,” she said. “I had a wonderful time!”

Then, before I could answer or ask her for another date, she ran up the steps and disappeared into the sanctuary of the kitchen. It was a slick maneuver by an experienced girl who knew how to avoid entanglements. I was frustrated by her swift withdrawal but happy about the warmth in her voice and smile. She had enjoyed being with me and I thought I could probably coax her out again and maybe get her to try some tantra with me if time allowed.

As I turned to go, my mind was already shifting back into crime mode, looking ahead to the meeting with Evermore and what I needed to learn there. Johnny was standing by the bench, facing the house. He raised his hand in greeting and we walked toward each other.