She didn't have long to wait. The first hulking shape sidled past their hiding place a few moments later. She was impressed that someone so large could move so quietly.
Two more shapes moved past a moment later. She had counted three bodies at the end of the alley. With luck, there were no stragglers.
There were several more popping sounds from back up the alley, then the sound of a heavy metal door being flung open and rebounding off brick. The goons slowed to a stop and fanned out across the alley.
She couldn't wait any longer.
"Anjeline," she breathed. "Take off your shoes."
When there was no answering rustle of beaded fabric, she hissed, "Do it!"
She heard the other woman shift to slip off her heels.
"Now, when I say 'run'," she said, "You run for the street as fast as you can. Stay against the wall as much as possible. Turn right when you get there and keep running. Got it?"
She was already moving away from the dumpster. She heard Anjeline move behind her.
Pam stepped into the nearest semi circle of light cast by a bare bulb overhead. She gripped the pistol in both hands and raised it.
"Run," she hissed, "Now!"
Pam heard Anjeline's bare feet strike against the asphalt. The goon in the middle of the alley looked around at the sound of Anjeline's flight.
"Freeze your face, punk!" Pam shouted.
It wasn't as loud or as deep as she had hoped. But it had the benefit of surprise.
All three ambushers whirled toward her, guns drawn. All three froze at the sight of a woman in a "do me" red dress and spike heels standing spread legged in the middle of the alley.
She had to use both thumbs to pull back the hammer on the pistol. Only then did it occur to her to wonder if there was a safety.
The goon on her right let out a harsh laugh.
"Cadela," he said.
The other two goons chuckled at the apparent witticism. The goon on the right stepped toward her.
She pivoted to point the gun at him and saw the other two move. At least she could take out one, she thought. It was better than nothing.
She took in a breath and tightened her finger on the trigger.
A shot pinged off the bricks beside the right-hand goon's head. Brick fragments sprayed across the alley.
When she thought back on it later, Pam was very proud of herself for two things.
First, when the shot hit the wall, she didn't fire her own gun out of reflex.
Second, when Bill's voice rang out in the alley, she didn't drop the gun and sag to the ground in a dead faint.
She was less proud of the sob of relief she let out. But she was inclined to cut herself some slack for the first two points.
"I'd listen to the lady," Bill was saying as he stepped into sight behind the goons. "She's scary when she's mad."
"Drop the revólveres," he said. "Amável and fácil."
To Pam's surprise, it was the one on the left that didn't follow instructions. The other two were placing their pistols on the ground when he spun toward Bill and squeezed off two shots.
Both shots went wide, but the distraction gave the other goons the chance to retrieve their weapons.
Bill's first shot hit the goon on the left in his gun arm. He spun and fell with a choked cry. His gun skittered away across the asphalt.
Pam fired at the goon on the right, some instinct telling her not to aim toward Bill. To her combined relief and horror, the safety was apparently off.
Her shot pinged off the door behind him. He whirled toward her, forgetting Bill, who shot him in the leg. He crumpled to the ground.
The goon in the middle shot Bill.
In a way, it was like a dance. On the first beat, she heard the shot. Then she saw Bill fall backwards. She pivoted toward the shooter. She squeezed the trigger. The bullet slammed into his shoulder. A splash of blood sprayed across the ground
The shooter screamed, signaling the dance was over.
She gathered up the three fallen guns before she went to Bill. He was proud of her for that, which it made it all the sweeter.
-------------
Pam sat in Bill's car with Anjeline. Her red dress was much the worse for wear what with the blood and the dirt from the alley where she knelt by Bill. She didn't think she'd want to wear it again in any case. It wouldn't be the same.
Anjeline was stretched out on the back seat. She might have been asleep. Pam wasn't really interested. They had run out of things to say to one another a couple of hours before.
Pam stared out the windshield at the flashing blue lights whipping across the plate glass windows of the shops around Abrazo. In twos and fours, they were going out. Several police cars pulled away from the curb and cruised up the street toward her. She blinked in the glare of their headlights. As they passed, the cops inside stared through the window at her. She stared back.
At the mouth of the alley, one set of red and white lights, the ambulance, still flashed steadily.
The ambulance had been the first to arrive by at least a minute. The police cars had come screaming up in its wake.
Two more ambulances had come and gone. The news vans had come and gone. The FBI crime scene techs had come and gone.
The first ambulance still sat. She could see people moving in the brightly lit medical bay. The angle was wrong to make out more than shapes.
Anjeline shifted in the back seat and let out a small sigh. She was asleep then, Pam thought. She wondered why she wasn't more tired herself.
As she sat, staring at the ambulance, questions kept tumbling through her mind. There was only one that Anjeline could answer and Pam had asked it as soon as they climbed in the car.
"Why did everyone at Abrazo seem to know my name?"
Anjeline looked at with her big, gold-brown eyes.
"Guiomar," she said simply.
"Yes, I guessed that much," Pam said, trying not to let her irritation show. "I meant, why-"
She paused. "What did he say? About me?"
Anjeline nodded.
"He said you were belo- beautiful, smart, engraçada- funny…"
She bit her lip and stared into space for a moment before she lowered her eyes and stared into Pam's.
"He said you were his partner's wife," she said. "But you are not."
Pam shook her head.
"We just got engaged a few weeks ago," she said.
Anjeline shrugged.
"He knew it was to be," she said. "Thinking of you as a wife, would make it easier."
Pam frowned.
"Make what easier?" she said.
"Wanting you," Anjeline answered.
Pam flipped the catch on the glove compartment. A gun magazine slid out onto her lap. She set it aside. There was a stack of maps. A soft cloth with grease on it – for cleaning guns, she decided. A few pens. And a plastic zipper baggie full of dog biscuits. She pulled the baggie out and set in on her lap. She was snapping the glove compartment closed when the back door of the ambulance opened.
Bill jumped to the ground. She could hear his voice carrying down the street in the early morning hush, but she could only make out a few words.
"…observation my …over there in my car …four and half hours …to hell! …same to you."
Pam straightened as he stomped toward the car. She had a passing thought about checking her hair in the mirror, but decided the sight would only frighten her.
Bill yanked open the driver's side door with his left hand and dropped heavily into the seat. She saw him cover his wince of pain with a tight frown.
She looked over at the green sling on his arm.
"They were out of blue?" she said.
"They were out of their minds," he snarled.
"They wanted me to go to the hospital for an x-ray," he said, giving the medical words a vindictive spin. "Like I don't know what a busted rib feels like by now."
"'Tell you what,' I said. 'Tape it up, and if I start coughing up blood, I'll be sure to tell the next guys you tried to get me to the hospital.' I thought that was fair."
"They didn't like that idea?" she said.
"Medical morons," he said under his breath.
He slotted the key into the ignition and sat staring at the steering wheel for a long moment.
"Want me to drive?" she said.
He inhaled sharply and let it out slowly.
"Yes," he said at last.
She put the biscuits on the dashboard and climbed out.
They met at the back of the car. She saw him give her an appraising look, checking for more than cosmetic damage. He seemed satisfied that she was in one piece and continued around to the passenger side.
She was less satisfied. His usually perfectly coifed hair was a little tousled and his face looked as rumpled as his suit, but mostly he looked in pain. She hoped he wasn't too uncomfortable. There wasn't much left to the night and she had plans for the time that remained.
She climbed into the driver's side of the car and lifted the lever to slide the seat forward.
He settled in beside her and picked up the baggie of biscuits.
"Merry Christmas," she said, reaching up to adjust the rear view mirror.
"You shouldn't have," he said. His voice was muffled as he gripped the bag in his teeth and pried it open with his free hand.
"Probably not," she said, turning the key and shifting the car into drive. "But I've got some mints in my purse."
They drove in silence while she wound her way out of West Hollywood. The only noise was the rhythmic crunching of dog biscuits from the seat beside her.
"Are you hungry?" he said after several minutes. "Dinner was a while ago."
She gave him a sidelong look.
"I meant for real food," he said quickly. "There's an all night diner-"
"I may fix something when we get back to my place," she said.
If he heard anything unexpected in the phrasing, he didn't comment.
"Where am I taking Sleeping Beauty?" she said when she saw the lights of Sunset Boulevard.
"Her place is off Alameda," he said.
She turned onto Castle Heights.
"Uh, should I pretend I read it in her wallet?" Bill said.
"No," she answered.
Pam saw him turn in his seat and look back at Anjeline. She glanced in the rear view mirror. The woman really did look like Sleeping Beauty. Her head was pillowed on her deep auburn hair. Even her dirty bare feet looked endearing. Damn her.
"How long she been out?" Bill said, turning back to the windshield.
"Couple of hours," Pam said.
"You two didn't have much to talk about," he said.
"No," she agreed. "We just have the one thing in common."
He coughed and she heard his sharp intake of breath at the pain in his side. She waited to hear him resettling in his seat before she asked her next question.
"Why do all the women call you 'Guiomar'?" she said. "I thought Guillamo was the Spanish for William."
When he didn't answer for a moment, she decided to let it go, but she was relieved when he started speaking.
"It's a nickname," he said. "Roxana's sister started using it and it kinda caught on."
"Roxana," she said. "The hostess?"
"Yeah," he said. "Abrazo is kind of a family business."
"What does Abrazo mean?" she said. "I meant to ask."
"It's an expression from the Tango," he said. "Means 'embrace'."
She nodded.
"So what does 'Guiomar' mean?"
He shifted in his seat.
"Tatiana said it meant, 'famous in battle'," he said. "Or something. I don't really remember."
It wasn't a full explanation, she thought, but it was more than she expected. She decided to let it go.
"Pretty amazing," she said. "All that shooting and nobody got killed."
He reached down to release the seat catch and lowered the backrest a couple of notches.
"Some people came closer than others," he said as he resettled in the seat.
"Rufino, you mean?"
"Bingo," he said. "But after I shot him in the leg he started cryin'. I kinda lost my enthusiasm for it after that."
She smiled to herself.
"That's probably a good thing," she said.
"Yeah, it's just as well," he agreed. "A lot less paperwork."
She was pretty certain he knew that's not what she meant, but it was hard to tell with Bill sometimes.
--------------
Pam waited in the car while he took Anjeline upstairs. She jumped when he reappeared at the passenger side door.
"That was fast," she said after releasing the door locks to let him in. "No one tried to break into the car and rob me by the way."
He sat back down more carefully than the last time.
"Better safe than stupid," he said, grunting a little as he tugged the door closed.
She pulled away from the curb and started toward Venice Boulevard.
"Painkiller wearing off?" she said.
"That's my guess, too," he said grimly. "Hey, what did you and Anjeline talk about before she flaked out?"
"Not much," she said, braking for a red light and keeping her eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Why? Worried I'll find out about your secret life as a gigolo?"
He snorted.
"If that was true," he said. "I'd have a better apartment."
She risked a glance and saw his eyes were closed.
"So when should I come get you to pick up Ralph tomorr- I mean today?" he said.
"That won't be necessary," she said.
She heard him shift and glanced over. He was staring at her. He turned away when he saw her looking back.
"You don't want a lift?" he said.
"You're staying at my place."
He was silent for a moment.
"I'm really okay, ya know," he said at last. "I've had worse'n this on a Saturday night."
"I know," she said. "If I didn't think that, you wouldn't be staying."
When she risked another glance, his lips were pursed.
"Uh, I don't wanna bleed on your couch or something," he said at last.
"That's not a problem," she said.
As she hoped, the answer was either too nebulous or too fraught with implication to safely allow an answering question.
They talked about how much Santa Monica had changed for the rest of the ride to her apartment.
--------------
Riding back up in the elevator was strange. She watched the floors tick by on the number display and didn't try to make conversation. She didn't trust herself to sound normal.
Upstairs, he stood quietly beside her as she slotted her key into the lock. Neither spoke and somehow, that silence, as she went through the motions: opening her apartment door, Bill walking in behind her, the sound of his breath, the rustle of their clothing in the dim light from the sliding glass door to the balcony, reaching for the light switch and brushing his sleeve… It was all perfectly innocent, yet all deeply, powerfully erotic.
Pam took a deep breath, flipped the switch, and so launched her plan for seducing Bill Maxwell.
--------------
- continued -
el Tango de Los Angeles
(Tango of the Angels)