Chapter 18

The next day Jess and her mother rode inland on Santa Monica Boulevard to browse auto dealerships both new and used, but nothing really jumped out at Jess that said, "Pick me!" She simply couldn't decide what type of vehicle was best – something sporty? Utilitarian? Girlie? She'd never owned a car before and didn't exactly spend her free time dreaming about her ultimate ride. Maybe she'd better start.

"Dad would say I should buy a pickup truck," Jess ruminated aloud as her mom pulled out of the fifth dealership of the day.

"Well, I'm sure a pickup would be a nice thing to have in Georgia, but I'm not so sure if you really need one out here," her mom countered.

Jess smiled craftily. "I guess he can just buy me one to drive when I visit."

"That's the spirit," her mom replied with a brief thumbs-up. "Let your dad drop some serious bucks on his only daughter for a change."

Jess shot a wary look at her mom but found her smiling. She was still concerned. "Mom, he does pay you what he's supposed to, doesn't he?"

"Oh yes," she hastily confirmed. "But very little beyond that. I mean, what about that trip to the Virgin Islands he'd promised you for your early graduation?"

Jess could only shrug glumly in reply. She'd almost forgotten about that, given her dad had only mentioned it once and never again. It wasn't like he'd booked the flights and left her hanging.

At the sight of her daughter's expression, her mother sighed and apologized. "I don't mean to belittle your father's contributions, Jess. He's a good man and he does what he's asked to. I really shouldn't complain, there's a lot of women in my position who don't get a dime's worth of help out of their exes."

"Yeah. It's ok Mom. I know it hasn't been easy for you but I've never felt deprived by either of you. I'll remind Dad about the trip next time he calls and I bet he'll follow through if I sound weepy and say all the right stuff," she joked in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit.

It worked. Her mom smiled again and reached out to squeeze Jess' left hand briefly as the car came to a stop at the light. "So, Miss No Car Is Good Enough, what shall we do next?"

Jess sighed again. "Just go back home, I guess. I'll have to think about what I really want and get back to you."

Her mom nodded. "Fair enough, I guess. I can ask around work and see if anyone has any recommendations or perhaps a used car for sale. Better to get one from someone you know than someone you don't."

Jess had to agree with that, so back home they went. Her mom suggested they order pizza from the nearest Italian restaurant and Jess offered to get it. On her way to pick up dinner she saw a boy with longish blonde hair skating alone down the darkening street, but as she got closer she saw it was no one she knew. It made her think of Wentzle and how he'd tried to visit her the night before. Would he come back, she wondered, or should she try to seek him out? On the way back home with the steaming hot pizza on the seat beside her, she was still thinking. It would be best if he came to me, but I really don't want to spend the rest of my break sitting around the house waiting for some guy. Think I'll watch the weather forecast for tomorrow and decide what to do then.

The evening news predicted another balmy, rain-free day with light winds and temperatures in the mid 60s. Perfect, thought Jess. I'll check out the surf report in the morning although I sincerely doubt they'll mention POP. But whatever's happening nearby, the conditions should be similar. I just hope I can get to the pier without being hassled. The thought of running the gauntlet of homeless people, unfriendly Dogtown girls and territorial surfers was slightly off-putting, but Jess hoped she was becoming a familiar enough face in the area to help her get by relatively unscathed.

But the following morning brought a twist of fate along with the dawn. Jess rose by seven, dressed in jeans, a light blue tee shirt and a cream-colored fringed poncho in case the ocean winds were strong. She dispensed with the surf report; too long of a wait before it started. Her mom was still asleep when Jess left home on her bike, intending to chain it up near the Venice Noodle Company and walk along the beach from there to the pier. As she turned right onto Pacific she noticed dark skies to the north. An incoming front? No, those don't really look like rain clouds, they're too low and really dark. I could almost swear that's – smoke! It is smoke. She pedaled harder, wanting to find out what was burning so badly. As she passed the Venice Noodle Company she was so focused on the enormous rising cloud that she didn't even think about Stacy like she normally did whenever she saw the restaurant where her handsome blonde classmate worked.

Two blocks farther north, Jess slowed down, her heart sinking as she realized the fire was coming from the old POP pier. And what a fire, she thought with consternation. My god, the whole thing's going up. I hope nobody's hurt. The smoke cloud appeared to stretch the entire length of the pier. Most of the rides were obscured except for occasional windblown glimpses of the enormous spinning rocketship structure. In a bizarre juxtaposition of images the ocean still crashed among the pilings that were still standing while the pier blazed away above.

All along the beach and the road clusters of onlookers had gathered to watch a piece of local history die in flames. Jess pushed her bike over to a small group of people close to her age because they looked familiar. As she got closer she recognized three of them – two girls and a guy – as fellow onlookers at the Keyhole pool session the weekend before. One of them, a girl with straight, one-length dark brown hair, seemed to remember her as well. "Isn't this crazy?" she said to Jess by way of a greeting.

"Mind-blowing," Jess agreed.

"It's sad," the guy said, pushing his sunglasses up his small, narrow nose. "I went there for a lot of birthdays when I was a kid and got my first kiss in the Ocean Skyway."

"Me too!" the other girl chimed in. "On both counts. And a lot of the guys at my school surf there. Man, are they gonna be bummed!"

"What school do you go to?" Jess asked curiously.

"Santa Monica High. I'm surprised more of them aren't out here. It was a good day for surfing otherwise."

"Maybe they're closer to the pier," the guy suggested.

"Hell, they're probably trying to put out the fire," the dark-haired girl jibed.

The guy snorted derisively. "Shit, somebody needs to do it. Do you see a single fuckin' fire engine over there? Ridiculous. They want it to burn all the way down."

"Hell yeah! Assholes!" one of the other guys who wasn't at the Keyhole agreed. "Let's see if we can get any closer, c'mon." And with that he was off, his collar-length brown hair fluttering in the acrid breeze. The rest of the group moved off too, Jess with them but somewhat reluctantly. She was concerned that the wind could change direction and blow all that smoke at them but currently the breeze was strong and coming in from the ocean, sending the smoke away from them and to the northeast.

As they walked along the little sidewalk and seawall that ran along Pacific, Jess saw more people venturing down the side streets to gawk at the spectacle. A few minutes later two Venice F.D. trucks came roaring by, their wailing sirens drowning out the sarcastic hoots and catcalls from many of the nearby onlookers:

"About time, assholes!"

"Gonna have a helluva weenie roast, arent'cha?"

"Too little, too late! Thanks for nothing!"

Jess could sympathize somewhat with the kids. As she walked, pushing her bike alongside her, she tried to imagine Herseypark burning down and how much that would affect her, even though she hadn't been to the venerable Pennsylvania amusement park since she was 11. Still, it couldn't be easy to see a meaningful part of your childhood go like this, especially when the powers that be couldn't care less about saving it.

The closer they got to the pier, the stronger the burning smell got. Jess and the other girls wrinkled their noses in disgust but the guys were busy looking and commenting amongst themselves and seemed not to be affected. On the beach about halfway between the sidewalk and the waves stood a assemblage of Zephyr surfers, some clad in wetsuits with their boards stuck in the sand by their feet. They too were engrossed by the sight of the smoke, which was now billowing skyward in earnest, and the flames, which were now easily visible as they licked up the sides of the buildings and other structures which were fleetingly visible through the smoke clouds. Jess recognized TA, Kathy, Skip, Jeff, Biniak, PC and – with a little frisson of joy – Wentzle. A number of people of varying ages whom Jess didn't know sat or stood in the sand alongside them.

The kids Jess had been walking with immediately walked out on the beach to join the Zephyr crowd. The dark-haired girl called out a greeting as she approached, causing most of them to turn around. Kathy and Wentzle spotted Jess and waved her over at the same time. She cast around for some secure place to leave her bike but none was in evidence. With a shrug she descended to the beach through a gap in the low wall, rolling her bike along with her and hoping sand wouldn't foul the chain. When she reached the group, Kathy asked her if she'd seen Deb.

"No, not today. Maybe she's sleeping in and doesn't know about the fire?" Jess suggested.

The other girl just shrugged. "Dude, she's gonna freak when she finds out," TA muttered.

Skip turned around to check out the new arrivals, lifting his chin at the sight of Jess. "Hey, I remember you. The Philly girl, right?" he queried with a slight slur. Jess nodded an affirmation. There's no way he can be drinking at this hour of the morning, she mused. It must be a sort of speech impediment or something. There was a dark-haired, mustachioed man standing next to Skip, taking photos of the fire with a nice 35mm camera. He immediately began humming a tune that Jess shortly recognized as "The Sound of Philadelphia" by M.F.S.B. She had to smile at the little impromptu homage to her native city. The photographer turned, gave her a little wink, then assumed a serious expression as he resumed his pictorial documentation of the unfolding event.

While this quasi-exchange was taking place, Wentzle sidled up next to Jess. "Hey, did you get my note from the other night?" he asked in a low tone.

"Yeah. Sorry I wasn't home. How did you know that was my house, anyway?"

In reply Wentzle only smiled mysteriously and laid a finger beside his nose in the classic gesture depicting sage wisdom. He then pretended to stick his finger in his nose. "That was my TA impression, whadda ya think?"

"I think you're cruisin' for a bruisin'," TA said without even looking at Wentz. Wentz just smirked and turned back to Jess. "So ahh, I tried to call but guess I remembered your number wrong or somethin'," he confessed, still speaking quietly.

"I can write it down again for you," Jess suggested, her pulse quickening. An attempted visit and phone call. Neither had been successful, but it was an excellent indicator of the handsome skater's interest. Well, surf-skater, anyway. Today Wentzle was clearly dressed for riding the waves in a ¾ Body Glove wetsuit that displayed his nicely shaped and relatively smooth calves. The top of his suit was unzipped just enough to give Jess a glimpse of his hairless chest and the top third of his well-defined abs. She resisted the urge to pull the zipper all the way down, although she somehow doubted he'd be too fazed by the move.

The dark-haired photographer guy detached himself from the group and began stalking across the sands toward the pier. "Yeah, get some good pics of the City of Santa Monica fuckin' ignoring this shit!" Skip called after him. Three more men around Skip's age showed up and began commiserating with the big blonde about the loss of their favorite surf spot.

"Nothin' like it in all of California. Hell, the whole fuckin' world."

"Yep. How many kooks and Vals did we chase outta there since '67 anyway?"

Derisive laughter all around. "Too many," Skip growled. "We busted our asses in and out of the water making that our spot. And now…pfff." He emphasized his words by throwing his arm in the air in a gesture that was part derogatory, part farewell. "This is the beginning of the end, guys. Beginning of the end. I just know it."

The older POP veterans sat hunched side by side in the sand, resolutely facing the burning hulk they had sessioned for years. For a short time nobody spoke, just stared. Then Wentzle spoke quietly into Jess' ear: "Guess there isn't gonna be any surfing going on today. Looks like it's starting to blow out early anyway." Jess glanced over at the ocean; it was indeed looking somewhat flatter. The wind was definitely shifting but luckily not blowing any smoke toward them. TA and Red Dog came over and stood next to Wentzle.

"This is too fuckin' depressing to watch. Think I'm gonna go take off, maybe get my board and skate Marine Street or somethin'," Tony declared.

"I'm with ya," Red Dog chimed in.

"Yeah, good idea," Wentzle agreed. "Hey, where the hell's Jayboy today?"

TA knit his heavy brows in thought for a second. "Oh, he and Kent said something about surfing Leucadia today."

"I'm both sorry and glad he's not here to see this," Wentzle said wistfully.

"Fucker'd be torn up, buey," TA said with a shake of his curly moptop. "Awrite, let's split."

As the three guys detached themselves from the larger group, Wentzle turned to Jess and raised his fine eyebrows expectantly. "Ya coming, or are ya gonna stick around and watch Rome burn?" Jess thought that was a fairly apt analogy but no, she'd seen enough of the spectacle. She was starting to get bummed out herself by the negative vibes being radiated by the spectators around her as they continued to mutter amongst themselves, occasionally hoisting a middle finger high to the occasional passing firetruck or policecar. Yes, maybe some quality time with her new Hot Guy #2 would salvage the day. She picked up her bike and began to quickly trek across the sands to catch up. Wentzle looked over his shoulder at her and returned to her side, offering to carry the bike for her. She gratefully accepted – a believer in women's lib she might be, but not hardcore enough to turn down a genuine offer of assistance from a gentleman – taking one last look at the pier as she handed the bike over. Streams of water from fire hoses and hook and ladder trucks were jetting through the clouds of smoke but below the flames raged on. Despite the firefighters' efforts Jess doubted there would be much left of the old pier come nightfall. Before she turned back to follow the guys, she let her gaze drift over the watching crowd of Dogtowners, most of whom were still watching the fire intently. Only Kathy seemed to notice her departure, staring back at the little departing group with an unfathomable look in her eye. "Come on, get the lead out!" Jess heard Wentzle shout from the sidewalk. Quickly she turned away from the onlookers and hastened to catch up, her footprints showing ankle-deep in the golden sands.