RICK HELLER

LOYAL PUPPIES

HOW'S THIS FOR AN AD FOR Telepathy Trademark?

"You're bound and gagged in the trunk of a car. The guy behind the wheel is
going to kill you. You can't scream. You can't move. What do you do? Just think
the words, 'WellCell on, WellCell Dial 911 Dial.' Your call will be instantly
transmitted to the local police. Rescue will be moments away."

That's what the commercial would say.

But what if the jeremy who kidnapped you removed the transmitter from your neck
before he stuffed you in the trunk? That's what happened to me and to Gwen, my
best friend. No, I don't think Wells Cellular is going to be using me in their
ads any time soon. Especially since it was a bug in their software that got me
in trouble in the first place.

It's funny. I'd pestered my mom. "Gwen's mother says she can have Telepathy. Why
can't I?" The whining got me nowhere. Then Dad said he'd pay for it, so I could
call home in case of an emergency.

Dr. Feinberg installed jacks in my ears and neck. She numbed the areas first
with these medicated patches. I was awake the whole time. The ear jacks, she
told me, connect to a nerve that runs from the ear to the brain. The neck jack
connects to a nerve that goes to the vocal cords and tongue and lips and stuff.

A couple of weeks after the surgery, Gwen and I went back to Dr. Feinberg to get
our chips. You plug them into the jacks to make Telepathy Trademark work.
Wearing them doesn't look dooby at all, because they're hidden inside jewelry. I
chose a pair of turquoise and silver earrings to hold the ear chips, and a
matching choker for my neck. I like to wear turquoise; it looks fab with my
blonde hair.

Gwen has chestnut-brown hair. She picked gold earrings with a swirly kind of
design, and for the neckpiece, a 24-karat gold brooch. Hers were maximum
expensive. I don't mind that her family has more money than mine, though. I get
two looks from guys for every one that she gets. That's more important than
money.

Telepathy Trademark did take some getting used to. When you hear another
person's thoughts, they sound like they come from inside you. It was tricky
telling my thoughts apart from Gwen's, at first. After a while, though, I just
knew.

The chips are mini cell phones, basically. You can call other people with
Telepathy Trademark or even people with regular phone numbers. They were working
great, until the day Gwen went to a cookout with her parents.

The cookout had something to do with her father's business. I sat around my
house, snacking too much, while Gwen gave me the play-by-play.

"Oh, God, you won't believe this," Gwen was thinking. "There's this ancient
woman wearing a red bikini. She's sitting at the edge of the pool with her feet
in the water. The way her skin is hanging down from her stomach -- it reminds me
of making pizza -- you know, the way dough hangs when you're stretching it."

"Dooby!" I thought. "Ever hear of a 'tummy tuck'?"

"Are you still in Brazil?"

"Brazil? What do you mean?" I thought.

"You're in L.A.?"

"Of course I'm in L.A.? Earth to Gwen!"

"You're not making any sense, Denyssa."

"Neither are you," I thought.

"No, I don't think getting together would be a good idea."

"Gwen, are you being weird? I can't take this. I'm going for a swim. Talk to you
later. WellCell Off."

"WellCell" is a keyword. It tells the chip to listen for an instruction. That's
so you don't make a call by accident. Like if "chocolate" was a keyword, you'd
make a call every time you thought of Dove Bars.

I changed into a black bikini, proud that my belly was nearly flat. I popped my
chips out and laid them on the bureau. They're "water-resistant" but not
waterproof, which means you won't get electrocuted if you go in the pool with
them, but they might not work as well afterward.

I swam laps, then floated on my back for about fifteen minutes. Not having my
chips in felt like I'd lost my voice -- like I had laryngitis.

It's amazing that the chips can read your mind. Dr. Feinberg called it "inner
voice recognition." The brain's sending signals to the vocal cords, she said,
even when you're thinking to yourself. It's a very tiny amount, much less than
when you're actually talking, but enough for the chips to figure out what's
going on in your head.

I dried myself off, went back inside, popped the chips back in and called Gwen.
"WellCell On," I thought. "WellCell Speed Dial One Dial."

Gwen answered. "Thank God you called. I'm so bored. I'm counting the number of
times the word 'fiduciary' has come up in conversation. I'm at five."

We chatted for maybe a half-hour. "If you were stuck on a desert island," I
asked her, "and there could only be one store, what would you want it to be?"

"Arturo, why are you calling me again?" Her answer didn't make sense.

"Gwen, are you fantasizing about some guy?" I thought.

"Denyssa, where did you get ...." The rest was garbled.

"Gwen, it's maximum strange. It's like I'm hearing two conversations at once.
I'm hearing you and someone else."

"I'm not hearing anybody else," Gwen thought. "Maybe there's a problem with your
chips."

"I thought we hashed this out."

"Did you just say, 'I thought we hashed this out?'"

"No. It wasn't me. But it sounds --"

"Gwen, will you shut up for a second so I can listen?"

I was hearing one side of a conversation, in spurts. Sometimes I'd hear
something. Sometimes there'd be silence.

"Oh, dinner at Koka's. It's tempting, but I'd have to say no. Why don't you ask
one of your other women?"

"Some guy named Arturo just asked this woman to Koka's," I thought. "And she
turned him down."

"I would die to be taken to Koka's. Just lay my body out on the dessert table."
That was obviously Gwen thinking.

"I don't believe you can change. Because you're Arturo Jansen, you think you can
have any woman you want."

"You're not going to believe this," I thought. "She said, 'Because you're Arturo
Jansen, you think you can have any woman you want.'"

"The Arturo Jansen?"

"How many could there be?"

I heard this shriek inside my head. Was it her or me?

It was both of us.

"He was so awesome in 'Poker Player,'" Gwen thought. "The way he beat up that
loan shark...."

The woman Arturo was talking to kept turning him down, again and again.
Meanwhile. I searched through the back issues I had in my closet of Hollywood
Weekly. I found Arturo among the "new faces to watch" in the March issue.

Arturo had these incredible hazel eyes with dark lashes, and dark brown hair
that reached to his shoulders. He was pictured with his girlfriend, a slender
blonde named Palma Horvath. According to the article, his next role was as an
air cavalry officer in the remake of Apocalypse/Vow. It was going to be filmed
in Brazil.

"He's the Sun!" I thought.

"He's beyond the Sun," Gwen thought.

"I bet Palma's the one he's talking to right now."

"How could anyone turn down a date with Arturo? It's not possible," Gwen
thought. "Denyssa, are you making this up?"

"Swear to God!"

"All right, Arturo. I'll meet you at the door at Koka's at seven tonight!"

"Hold on. Palma just gave in," I thought. "They're getting together tonight."

"I don't believe a word you're saying," Gwen thought. It was just Gwen and me
now. The other conversation was over.

"I can prove it," I thought. "Tell your parents you're coming over to my house
tonight, and we'll go to Koka's."

"Koka's won't take our reservation."

"I didn't mean that. We'll stake out the parking lot."

We squealed again in unison.

This was going to be so icy!

Gwen came over and picked me up in the Thunderbird her parents gave her for a
birthday present. We got to Koka's a few minutes before seven. Since it was
summer, there was still plenty of daylight left.

Koka's had valet service, so we didn't even try to park there. The medical
building next door had a parking lot that was practically empty. Gwen found a
spot that looked out toward the restaurant, but was shielded by bushes. We took
turns focusing on the entrance with Gwen's binocular-camera.

I was on duty when Palma Horvath pulled up in a new Packard. She was blonde and
willowy, exactly like the photo. A guy met her at the door. It was so quick, I
hardly got a chance to focus before they were gone. I took a snapshot with the
bino-camera, though, and we examined the image.

"It's Arturo, all right," Gwen said. "I will never doubt you again."

"What do you want to do now?"

"Let's wait till they come out," Gwen said.

"Okay."

We split a pack of M&M's while we waited. Gwen said, "I hope he doesn't get back
together with her. I want him for myself. When I have an apartment of my own, I
see him coming to the door with a heart-shaped box of chocolate -- it's
Valentine's Day -- and a dozen red roses."

"No, Gwen. We're going to be roommates. You answer the door, and it's Arturo,
dressed in a tuxedo, but you're just wearing sweatpants, because he's come to
pick me up. He's taking me to the Academy Awards, where he's been nominated. I'm
wearing this beautiful red dress with slits down the sides. He wins the best
actor award, and leans over and kisses me. The cameras focus on me, Denyssa
Reilly, and I appear on TV all around the world."

"Fat chance," Gwen said. "You'd be such a fashion casualty that everyone in the
world would flip the channel."

We had so much fun imagining our lives together with Arturo, we almost missed
seeing Palma Horvath call for her car. It was like three-quarters of an hour
after she arrived. We waited to see if Arturo would join her, but she drove off
alone. Arturo didn't come for his car for another fifteen or twenty minutes.

Gwen started up her Thunderbird. "I'm going to follow him."

"Icy!" I said "Let's get back on-line. Maybe I can hear something." Gwen and I
had to be on-line for me to hear anything. I figured this out earlier, when Gwen
called me up, and I immediately started hearing some guy talking to Arturo about
a script. It was clear the conversation had been going on for a while.

So even though we were sitting next to each other in her Thunderbird, we got
on-line. My father would think it extravagant, but so what -- he's got a lot of
money.

We followed Arturo's red Saab convertible from about half a block behind. Gwen
went through two red lights in order to keep up. Once he got onto Santa Monica
Boulevard, he made a call.

"Arturo! Haven't heard from you in a while, hombre."

Obviously, he wasn't speaking to Palma.

"Rio's great. Especially around Carnival."

Then there was a lull, and then I heard, "Oh, that's too bad. She'll come around
.... You want some Blue Death? How much?... Okay. I gotta make another stop
first .... I'll be over at your place around nine. Ciao."

"Blue Death. Isn't that some kind of synthetic?" I asked Gwen.

"Yeah."

"Someone's making a dominos at Arturo's tonight."

"It's icy to know a star's secrets," Gwen thought.

"Yeah. It's like we're his best friends, and he's telling us stuff."

We followed him all the way home. We saw him turn into a driveway. By the time
we passed by, the gates were closing.

"Why don't I pull over." Gwen thought.

"He's probably in for the night. Besides, his friend's coming over and might
spot us. Why don't we come back tomorrow?"

So that's what we did. We followed him for the next several evenings. It was
funny. For a movie star, he didn't have much of a social life. I guess you
could've said that about us too. But Gwen and I were teenagers. We had an
excuse.

One night, we followed him to a residential area near U.C.L.A. He suddenly
pulled over. We were afraid he'd seen us. We kept on going. If he saw us, he
didn't mention it when he called Palma.

"No, Arturo. You have to learn to let go," she said. "You could meet someone
tomorrow. I'm not that special, believe me."

"What's wrong with her?" Gwen thought. "He's so dreamy."

We followed him the next evening, this time staying far back. When we got to
this one intersection, he went through a yellow light. It turned red before we
got to it.

"Go through it, Gwen," I thought.

Cars started across from the other direction.

Gwen screamed, and slammed on the brakes. "Sorry," she said aloud. "I guess we
lost him."

Then I caught a very brief exchange between Palma and Arturo. "Don't come over
here!" she said. "This is starting to get weird, Arturo. You need to go back to
your therapist." Then she hung up.

"He called Palina again," I thought. "She's through with him."

"You know, we came this way last night," Gwen thought. "I bet I could find where
he went. Look for a Dandelion Donuts. That's where we turn."

Sure enough, after a mile or two, there was a Dandelion Donuts. Gwen swung a
hard right. It was a residential street, and we continued on it for several
blocks. There was Arturo's Saab, parked haphazardly in front of a beige house
with purple shutters.

"Voila!" Gwen thought.

We parked a discreet distance away, and waited. Arturo came out of the house
about a half an hour later. He looked around in all directions as he opened the
door of his Saab. We slumped down.

"Do you think he saw us?" I thought.

"I hope not."

By the time we sat up again, he'd disappeared.

"Sure you can come over," I heard a voice say.

"He's not going home, Gwen," I thought.

"What kind of problem?... You can count on me, hombre.... I'll back you up. I'm
your loyal puppy, Arturo. I only shit on your newspaper."

I laughed when I heard that line. I relayed it to Gwen and she put a finger down
her throat.

We went to Ollie's Pizza afterward. While we were waiting for our food, Gwen
kicked me under the table and said, "I'm your loyal puppy, Denyssa. I only shit
on your newspaper."

When the cute waiter came with the pizza, I told him, "We're loyal puppies. We
shit only on your placemats."

We both cracked up. He must have thought we were dooby.

The next day was weird. I was having dinner by the TV, watching "Tunesville." At
the news break, they said that the body of Palma Horvath had been found. She'd
been stabbed multiple times with her own kitchen knives.

Hearing about a murder is a great appetite suppressant. They showed the picture
of the house, and it was the beige one with the shutters we'd seen Arturo come
out of.

I immediately called Gwen and told her to turn on the TV. "I bet he killed her,"
I thought.

"Bullshit. It was some burglar."

"He was there last night."

"Well, thank God he didn't spend the night with her or he'd be dead too."

"I bet you he did it."

"You are so wrong, Denyssa."

We followed the story religiously over the next few days. The police said they
had no leads, but didn't think it was a burglary. An autopsy fixed the time of
death at approximately 9:30 P.M. on the night before the body was discovered.

"He did it!" I thought. "That's exactly when we saw him at the house."

"Wrong! It was like 8:57 or something. It certainly wasn't after nine."

"Close enough," I thought.

"Doesn't prove anything."

"That guy, C.J., said they were together all evening. We know that's not true.
He's the loyal puppy."

Gwen had no comeback. I was sure I'd won the point. But I wished I knew what she
was thinking. You see, having Telepathy Trademark doesn't mean you can hear
every single word someone thinks. God, no! Gwen and I would have had so many
fights. Dr. Feinberg said there's an "inhibitory circuit" wired from the nerves
to the chips. I don't understand it, but basically, you have to want your
thoughts to go out.

"He couldn't have done anything so horrible," Gwen said, after quite a bit of
silence. "Arturo's not like that."

"We don't know him," I thought. I couldn't believe she was still defending the
guy.

"Maybe that's the problem," Gwen thought. "He must be feeling terribly lonely
without Palma. We know how much he wanted to be with her."

"Well, she didn't want to be with him."

"He needs some support now. Someone to lean on."

I laughed. "He's got C.J.!"

"He needs a woman, Denyssa."

"Who do you have in mind?"

"Me, of course. But I'd want you to come along too."

"What if he fell in love with me and not you," I thought. "Palma was blonde."

"He might be in the mood for a brunette now."

"This is the doobiest idea you've ever come up with, Gwen. This guy's a
murderer."

"He is not. I wish you'd stop saying that. If he's a murderer, how come he
hasn't been arrested?"

"I don't know."

"Of course you don't. Well, I'm going to find some way to meet him, whether you
come with me or not."

I didn't know what to do. It seemed like a bad idea. But Gwen was my best
friend. I could be totally wrong about Arturo. And if he was dangerous, she'd be
better off with me by her side, watching out for her.

I always end up giving in to Gwen.

We spent days plotting how to meet Arturo. "We could ram his car with your
Thunderbird," I suggested. Gwen didn't like that idea.

Then I overheard a conversation between Arturo and his agent. "I was having
lunch with a producer who's a trustee of Children's Hospital of Pasadena," the
agent said, "They're having a benefit for neuromuscular transplantation. They
want a celebrity to appear .... This would be good for you, Arturo .... There's
sympathy out there for you because of Palma's passing. By raising your profile
tastefully -- I'm talking tastefully -- we may give you a shot at some leading
roles."

That's where we ended up meeting Arturo --- at a charity event. Arturo put on a
mime act for the kids. He made believe he was a lion, then an elephant, and then
a seal. He made those poor kids so happy for an afternoon.

"He's adorable," Gwen whispered to me.

Later, there was a crush of people hoping to get his autograph. We knew we only
had a few seconds to make an impression.

"Hi," Gwen said. "We love your movies."

"Thanks."

"We're sorry about Palina," I said.

"Thank you."

"We're your greatest fans. We know everything," Gwen said. "And we love you."

Gwen slipped a note in his shirt pocket. It was a love letter signed by the two
of us. It contained both our Telepathy Trademark numbers.

Gwen lowered her voice to a whisper, "You could even say we're your loyal
puppies, and we only shit on your newspaper."

Arturo's eyes widened. He looked like he was about to say something, but the big
shots at the hospital made us move on.

An hour later, though, after we had arrived back at Gwen's house, she got a
telepathy call. She didn't say anything but I could tell from her expression she
was talking to someone.

"It's Arturo," Gwen shrieked. "He wants to know if we want to party!"

We both screamed. I didn't know what I was getting myself mixed up in, but it
was hard not to be excited.

We arrived at Arturo's at twilight. At the gate, we didn't even have to press a
button. The camera focused on the driver's side window, and we said, "Hi, it's
Gwen and Denyssa." The gate swung open.

The house was two stories, with whitewashed walls and a red-tile roof. Arturo
appeared at the door in shorts and a yellow T-shirt. He was barefoot. Gwen
parked on the red brick patio.

Gwen had on a blue halter top and a Giverny miniskirt. I wore a little black
dress and sheer black nylons. We strutted up to the door.

"Hi, Arturo."

"Come on in."

We stepped inside.

"Denyssa, can you believe it?" Gwen thought. "We're hanging with a movie star!"

"This is maximum icy. Even if he is a murderer, he's a gorgeous one."

We were on-line with each other, so we could make comments without Arturo
overhearing us.

We followed him to a small room that looked out onto the garden. "This is the
living room," Arturo said.

"I love it," Gwen said.

"You've got a great decorator," I added.

We sat down on Arturo's love seat.

"Where are you guys from?"

"We're not in high school, Denyssa!" Gwen thought.

"We share an apartment in West Hollywood," I said.

"Do you want a beer?"

"That would be great," Gwen said.

He disappeared into the kitchen.

"Did you see the look he gave me?" Gwen thought. "He was undressing me."

"I got the same look," I thought. "It lasted longer."

"You're such a liar."

Arturo returned, carrying a tray with three bottles of beer and three tall
glasses. He opened each bottle and poured the beer into a glass. As he handed me
a glass, he told me, "You are a beautiful woman."

I felt flushed. "He thinks I'm beautiful," I thought.

"And you are exquisite," he said to Gwen.

"I'd rather be exquisite than beautiful," Gwen thought.

He sat down.

"I'm a big fan of yours," Gwen said.

"I'm a huge fan. I've seen all your movies," I added.

"I'm the bigger fan," Gwen said. "The poster I have in my room is bigger than
Denyssa's."

"You're quite a pair." Arturo smiled. "That line you used with the puppies, how
did that go?"

"We're your loyal puppies. We only shit on your newspaper," Gwen said.

"I like it. Did you hear it from somebody, or did you make it up yourself?"

"It's a line from a movie," Gwen said. "Wasn't it in The Godfather?"

"Gwen, you are so stupid," I said. "It's from 101 Dalmatians."

"No, you're stupid. It was definitely The Godfather."

"Now, ladies. It doesn't really matter. I was just curious. You said that you
know everything. What did you mean by that? That you've read all about me in the
fan magazines?"

"Oh, we know more than that," Gwen said.

"But we would never tell anyone," I added.

"Please don't leave me in suspense," Arturo said.

"We overhear your Telepathy," Gwen said. "That's how we heard about loyal
puppies. It's not really a line from The Godfather."

Arturo nervously placed his glass down on the end table. He looked stunned. "You
overhear my Telepathy?"

"Gwen can't hear anything. Only I can."

Arturo shook his head.

"If you don't believe us, try calling the guy you get your drugs from," Gwen
said.

"You know about that too?" Arturo fell silent. Then he cracked a smile. "Wait a
second. Did C.J. put you up to this?"

"We've never met him," I said.

"I know you're putting me on. I'll call C.J. right now."

I heard C.J. answer, "How are you doing, hombre?"

I repeated, "How you doing, hombre?"

I don't know what Arturo asked him, but C.J. answered, "I screwed six women in
five days."

I laughed. "He said he screwed six women in five days."

"Holy shit," Arturo said audibly.

Arturo wrapped up the conversation with C.J. Then he asked me, "How do you do
this?"

"I don't know," I said. "I guess there's something wrong with my chip."

"Don't worry," Gwen said. "We respect your privacy."

"I guess I should feel thankful for that."

"We know about you being at Palma's that last night," Gwen said. "See, we've
been following you. But we're loyal, just like C.J."

Arturo got up and began pacing around the room. "A lot of women can't keep a
secret. They have to tell their friends."

"We tell our secrets to each other," I said. Gwen nodded in agreement.

"A lot of people might even pay for stories about me."

"Don't worry," I said. "Our families are rich. We don't need money."

"What do you want, then?"

"We want to be with you," Gwen said.

"You didn't tell your friends you were partying with me tonight?"

"No," I said.

"Your parents?"

"Nobody," Gwen said. "We understand the meaning of the word confidential."

Arturo squeezed in between us on the love seat. He put his arms around us.

"Okay. You can hang with me as long as you keep it quiet." Then he kissed each
of us on the lips. I felt my legs go soft.

We drank some more, and we talked about his movies. After a while, we were
feeling maximum comfortable. I was wondering if he was going to have sex with
both of us together. We'd never done that before.

Instead he asked us, "Do you guys want to do some Blue Death?"

"Gwen," I thought. "What do we say?"

"Sure," Gwen said.

Arturo opened a bottle of champagne, and poured it into fluted glasses. He mixed
in a blue powder. "You have to drink it all at once." Arturo watched us as we
both downed our glasses.

Before I finished it, I felt sweaty. Then, major nausea. I don't know how much
time passed while I was out of it. The next thing I'm sure of, I felt a jolt. I
was thrown against something hard. My neck hurt -- I mean, really hurt.

I was alert now, though I still felt dizzy. I could feel a warm body at my side,
and I knew it had to be Gwen. She wasn't moving at all.

We were in some sort of dark chamber. There was music though, loud Razor music--
I'm not sure which band-- coming from all around. I tried to speak, but I
couldn't open my mouth. Something was covering it. I couldn't tell what it was,
because I couldn't move my arms. I couldn't move my legs either, for that
matter.

I tried Telepathy Trademark. "WellCell on," I thought.

But for the first time, I didn't hear a dial tone.

God damn it, I thought. What's wrong with this? "WellCell on. WellCell on."

My Telepathy Trademark wasn't working! I couldn't believe it.

I lay there for a while, confused. I assumed I was hallucinating, but as time
went on, I became more and more certain I wasn't.

The second jolt convinced me. Earthquake! We're trapped under debris. Either
that, I thought, or we're in the trunk of a car. There was a bump, and then
another bump. There was a whole series of them. This was like no earthquake I'd
ever felt. We were in the trunk of a moving car.

I suddenly felt a chill. We're such idiots, I thought. Arturo drugged us and
then stuffed us in the trunk of his car. He's going to murder us, just like he
did Palma. "WellCell on. WellCell on." But it wouldn't come on.

Sobbing, I struggled to free my arms. They were bound with sticky stuff, maybe
duct tape or something. There was a ragged end, and I got it started. I was able
to unwind it to the point where I could separate my hands.

Ha, I thought. Arturo's character in Deadbeat would have tied a better knot.

Once my hands were free, I ripped the tape off my mouth. Ouch! I shook Gwen, and
peeled the tape off her mouth, but she didn't come to.

Oh, my God. Maybe she's dead, I thought. Lying on my side, I brought my knees up
to my chest, and unwound the tape from my legs. As I flicked the tape off my
fingers, I happened to touch my throat. All I felt was skin. My choker was gone,
and with it, my Telepathy Trademark chip.

I went insane. I kicked wildly. I tried to break the trunk lock, but broke a
heel instead. My new black pumps -- trashed, and I didn't even care.

I clawed at the lining of the bottom of the trunk. I was hoping it wasn't metal
underneath, and I could tunnel my way out. I tugged at the fabric until it
ripped. Good, I thought. At least if Arturo kills us, he'll have to get his
trunk reupholstered.

I grabbed onto some electrical wires. That's when I remembered something I
learned from a TV movie. That little lever next to the driver's seat that opens
the trunk lock -- there's a wire that runs from the lever to the lock. If you
break the wire, the lock opens.

That's what I did. I kept tugging and tugging until I heard a pop. I gave the
trunk lid a gentle nudge, and it gave way. I looked back at Gwen and gave her a
shove. There was no sign of life. I knew if I didn't jump now, I was dead. If I
tried to drag her along, we'd be caught, and we'd both be dead. My best chance,
and Gwen's, was for me to get help on my own.

I sprang up, lifting open the trunk lid, and jumped out. I fell onto what was a
dirt road. I rolled downhill for fifteen or twenty feet, and came to a halt
underneath a bush. I was all scratched up. I felt something sticky on my lips.
Oh, my God, I thought. I'm bleeding.

My shoes were gone, but I stood up. I didn't know where the hell I was, except I
was in my stocking feet in the middle of a wilderness. I was in some kind of
canyon, probably in one of the California State Parks.

I could see in the dark easily, thanks to having been in the trunk for so long.
There was a hill over to my right outlined against a hazy glow. I figured that
was probably the street lights of L.A. reflecting in the smog.

I wasn't sure if I could walk, but when I heard the Saab screech to a halt and
shift into reverse, I decided to run. I plunged into the bushes. There were no
trees to hide behind, but there was plenty of scrub brush.

After I had gotten away from the dirt road, I shifted from speedy to sneaky
mode. I went down on my hands and knees, and crawled through the brush as
quietly as I could.

As the ground started sloping upward, I got up off my knees into a crouch. I
slipped for a second on loose gravel. I didn't scream, though. I don't know how
I avoided it; usually, if I got a paper cut, I'd be babbling about it with Gwen
for ten minutes.

I heard the throbbing of an engine. Peeking through the scrub, I saw the car,
its headlights pointing back down the road. He'd turned the Saab around. Arturo
was out of the car, peering into the darkness. The red tail lights reflecting
off his face made him look like the psycho in Slit Skirt. And to think I liked
that movie!

As I continued up the hill, I kept telling myself not to stand up when I reached
the top; he'd be able to spot me against the smoggy glow of L.A. I crawled on my
belly the last ten feet. By the time I was safely on the other side, my dress
was all slimy.

I could now see a line of houses along a ribbon that might have been a county
road. There was a smaller road snaking up from the main highway into the hills.
I wondered if the dirt road branched off of that. I bounded down the hill until
I slipped and nearly sprained my ankle. As I stopped to rub my ankle, I looked
back toward the top, dreading the moment when Arturo would appear. But there was
no sign of him.

I was feeling happy as I limped down the hill. Gimp or not, I was going to live.
At the base, I pushed my way through the last stretch of brush. Then I saw a
fence. At first, I thought it was barbed wire. It wasn't, but then I wondered,
what if it's electrified? I pictured my hair frizzing up like Ms. Frankenstein.

I touched the fence lightly, expecting a jolt. It felt a little damp, but
otherwise perfectly harmless. I was being paranoid. You get that way after
you've been kidnapped.

So there I was climbing a fence in my little black dress. If that wasn't enough
to make me feel self-conscious, the fence started to give. Before I knew it, the
fence post keeled over and I flipped forward onto the ground. This is hell, I
thought, as I lay sprawled on the soft grass. Am I that much of a moo?

I lifted myself up, and jogged across the grass. A spotlight flicked on, set off
by a motion detector. With the light in my eyes, I dashed past the pool and the
car port and across the small front yard.

I scrambled up a flight of redwood steps to the front door. The house was dark.
I rang the bell but there was no answer. I rang it again and pounded on the
window pane, trying to make as big a racket as I could. Nothing.

I needed to get to a phone. I stepped back down to the front yard. Neighboring
homes also seemed to be dark. What time was it, I wondered. Had everyone gone to
bed?

One house across the road seemed to have a light on. I stepped toward it. Then I
noticed a car approaching in the distance. Its lights were very bright. Was it
Arturo, searching for me?

I backed away from the road and decided to break into the house. I looked around
the yard for something I could use. There was a planter, but it looked too heavy
for me. Then I noticed a wooden stake with a sign hanging from it. It said, "The
Silva's." I gave the stake a good tug. That loosened it, and with a second yank,
the stake came out of the earth.

The headlights were getting nearer. I raced to the picture window, dragging the
stake behind me. I was about to shatter the glass when the car pulled into the
driveway, its lights blinding me.

I'm dead, I thought. I was so close to being alive.

A man stepped out of the still-running car. In a booming voice, he said, "What
are you doing on the Silva's property?"

Whoever it was, it wasn't Arturo. Was it his drug dealer friend? I didn't know
what he sounded like in person. Well, I figured, if it was C.J. I was dead, but
if it was anyone else, I should be honest. "I need a phone," I said. "I've been
kidnapped."

The man walked closer to me. He was in uniform. He had a nightstick and a
communicator, but I didn't see a gun.

"Kidnapped?"

"Yeah. My friend is still kidnapped. He'll kill her if I don't save her." I
might have sounded a little spacey because of the Blue Death.

"It looks like you're breaking and entering. Isn't that really what's going on?"

"I don't care if you believe me. Arrest me. I want to be arrested."

He said nothing.

"You're not a real cop."

Another car pulled into the driveway. A man climbed out. He had a baseball cap
pulled down low over his face, but I knew who it was.

"There you are," Arturo said.

"Don't let him near me!"

"I'm sorry, sir. My niece has been abusing drugs," Arturo said.

"That's clear," said the security guard.

"Her parents sent her to stay with me to keep her away from bad influences."
Arturo spoke with a foreign accent -- it was some sort of actor's trick. "She
ran away. I'll take her back now."

"Don't let him take me!" I screamed.

"She's yours," the security guard said. "Don't let this happen again."

Arturo grabbed my wrist, and pulled me toward the Saab.

I screamed. I lunged at the security guard and tried to take his nightstick. I
grabbed it, but he was stronger than me. He pushed me down to the ground. So I
bit him.

"Crazy bitch," he said, pinning me down with his knee.

"I'm terribly sorry about this," Arturo said. "Deeply ashamed. I'll put her
right to bed."

I struggled to get away, but I was overpowered. I started sobbing. The next
thing I knew, I was in handcuffs. First duct tape and now this, I thought.
Shackled twice in one night!

"I'm going to call this in." The guard pulled out his communicator. "This bitch
belongs in an institution."

Under the circumstances, those were the sweetest words I could imagine.

Arturo touched me on the shoulder. "Don't worry, honey. I'm going to get you a
lawyer." With that, he got in his car and peeled away.

I was booked for assaulting the security guard and attempting to get his weapon.
They took my fingerprints. Thank God they don't use ink anymore. I was dirty
enough after a night in the hills.

I gave a statement describing everything that happened. I didn't leave anything
out, not even the stuff about Blue Death, because I wanted to be believed. I
didn't care what my parents would say. I didn't care what happened to me. I only
wanted them to get Arturo, and to save Gwen if that was still possible.

When my father arrived, he was furious at me, for what I did, and for talking to
the police without a lawyer. In the morning, I was brought in for more
interrogation, this time with a lawyer.

"I have some good news for you," the detective said. He was in his mid-thirties,
blond and good-looking. "Your friend Gwen's all right. She's fine."

I was so happy. I broke into tears.

"Is there anything in your earlier statement you'd like to amend?' he asked.

"No," I said, looking at Scheer, my lawyer. "Everything I said was the truth."

"Then we have a little problem."

"What sort of problem?" Scheer asked.

The cop flicked a blond curl off of his forehead. "Not only is her friend all
right, she tells an entirely different story."

"What did she say?" I asked.

"Look, Denyssa, if you tell the truth now, you won't be prosecuted for perjury."

"Everything I said was true."

"I would like to speak with my client privately," Scheer said.

"Ignore him. What did Gwen say?"

"She says she spent the night with Arturo Jansen. She says he never left the
house at any time during the night, and that you were there early, but left on
your own."

"That's not true," I said. "You're lying. Gwen wouldn't have said that."

"We also have a statement by Arturo Jansen. His story jibes with hers. He says
you were acting strange, and insisted on leaving around eleven P.M. on foot,
despite his offer to drive you home or call a cab."

"He's totally lying."

"You admit you ingested diethylfedramine?"

"What's that?"

"What you referred to as Blue Death."

My lawyer cast me a cautionary glance. "I admit it," I said.

"It's the word of two people against one, and you're not a very reliable
witness. We've also checked with Wells Cellular. They're not aware of any
problem with their Telepathy service such as you describe."

"I can't believe this. It did happen. I swear."

"Can you give us your chips? We'll test them."

"I told you. Arturo stripped them off of me."

The detective stared at me with his cold blue eyes. "You're telling me that
Arturo Jansen, your friend Gwen, and the phone company are all lying. Why don't
you admit that you were freaked out of your apple and were trying to break into
the Silva residence?"

"What about the security guard? He saw Arturo."

"We showed the security guard a selection of photographs, including one of Mr.
Jansen. He was unable to identify anyone."

They threatened to prosecute me for assault, breaking and entering, and lying
under oath. Thanks to Scheer, I pled guilty only to a misdemeanor, for biting
the security guard. I got off with probation and psychological counseling.

The counselor helped a lot, especially when Hollywood Weekly did a profile on
Gwen and Arturo. They were now a romantic duo and Gwen was now a blonde. It made
me sick. Asked about rumors of Arturo's involvement in Palma's death, Gwen
responded that Arturo was gentle and kind and was devastated by the murder.
"There are always people willing to make up a nasty story," Gwen said. I took a
match to that issue and burned it.

I was in school, in English class, when my teacher received a message on his
monitor. He told me to go immediately to the principal's office.

My mother was waiting there. "Sgt. Reese wants us to come down to the station. I
called Scheer." The crow's feet by my mother's eyes become obvious when she's
upset. "It's time you get a part-time job to help us pay these legal bills of
yours."

Scheer met us at the station house. Sgt. Reese, the cop who handled my case, sat
us down in a conference room. "You told us a pretty crazy story a while back
about hearing voices in your head," Reese said.

I kept my mouth shut. There was no use arguing.

"You may be interested in this news item."

LOS ANGELES -- Wells Cellular Corporation has corrected a software flaw which
affected a small number of subscribers to its Telepathy Trademark service. In
some circumstances, packets sent to one subscriber were being duplicated and
sent to another. The flaw, which occurred only with rare combinations of
Telepathy Trademark numbers, has been corrected in the switching centers and
will not require the recall of any chips released to the public.

I looked straight at my mother. "I told you I didn't make it up."

My mother straightened the hem of her skirt. "Mothers make mistakes too."

Reese broke in. "It's not like we never believed you. Arturo Jansen has always
been a suspect in Palina Horvath's murder." Reese ran his fingers through his
curly blond hair. "But we never had anything we could bring to a judge without
being laughed out of the courtroom. Are you willing to testify in court about
what happened to you on the night of your kidnapping?"

"Yes, and about the night Palina was murdered too."

"If you'll stand by your statement, we can use it to get a warrant to search Mr.
Jansen's residence. Are you willing?" "Totally!" I said.

I had the satisfaction of learning not long afterward that the "dreamy guy,"
Arturo, had been arrested. The search netted fibers from his clothing that
perfectly matched microscopic evidence found on Palma's body.

As everyone knows, he's now awaiting trial. It'll probably be broadcast in its
entirety. I'm not supposed to watch because I'm a witness.

Two weeks later, Gwen the traitor called me up -- on the telephone. "Do you want
to take the call?" my mother asked.

"I don't want to speak to that bitch!"

"She says she wants to apologize. Why don't you talk to her?"

I took the phone. "Hello, Benedictine Arnold."

"I'm a jeremy. I admit it. I was totally wrong. I woke up in his bed that night,
and I truly did not have any memory of being in the trunk. I was zoned. We made
love, and it was fantastic. I asked where you were, and Arturo said you'd gone
home."

"You believed him?"

"He said you went home because he liked me better and you were jealous. I'm
sorry."

"So you lied for him?"

"He was everything I'd dreamed of. When the police called, and we went down to
make a statement, he told me what to say. The way I figured it, he needed me.
What better dump insurance could I have?"

"Weren't you afraid of him?"

"Look, I didn't think he killed Palina. I was wrong. Besides, even if he had
done it, I knew he couldn't get away with killing two girlfriends in a row. And
I really wanted to be with him. I am so sorry."

"What you say means nothing to me."

"I'm testifying against him too," Gwen said. "They gave me immunity."

I felt immense relief. I'd dreaded taking the stand and having Arturo's lawyer
cross-examine me, using Gwen's statement to make me into a liar.

"I'm really, totally sorry," Gwen said. "Can we be friends again?"

"No! What you did was rotten."

"I admit that. But what about the summer after seventh grade? Camp Coronado. You
spent every moment with that boy from Phoenix. You totally ignored me. Then,
when the fall came, you wanted to be friends again. I forgave you."

"What you did was worse."

"It was worse, but not all that different."

"It was three times as bad," I said.

"Two times."

"All right. Two times."

"So can I come over?"

It was a good thing Gwen couldn't hear the names I called her in my head. Still,
I find it hard to hold a grudge where Gwen is concerned. We go back all the way
to first grade.

"Yeah," I said. "But you better bring something, and it better be chocolate. You
are maximum going to make this up to me."