The Drazen World: The California Limited (Kindle Worlds Novella) Read online

  He nodded tentatively.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m plain humiliated at how childishly terrorized I was. When we get to LA I plan to issue her a strongly-worded telegram. ‘Arrived safely. Stop. No thanks to your ridiculous tales. Full stop.’ Now you see? A silly nothing.”

  He stared at her for another moment, then nodded.

  20 hrs. to Los Angeles

  Jack and Minnie lay naked and sex-tousled on the bed. They had had sex twice since returning to the sleeper. The first after Minnie’s explanation, Jack pulling her off the bed, bending her over it, and taking her from behind. The second a short time later when he had trapped her coming out of the bathroom, taking her pressed to the door. He would take her as many times as she could tolerate, so he could wake up the next morning and find her stale.

  Empty lunch dishes waited for pick-up on a table. A deck of cards used to play Hearts was splayed around them. Minnie lay on her belly, her head resting in arms tucked under her chin while Jack lay on his side stroking the graceful curves of her back and bottom.

  “I’m waiting to tire of this,” he said.

  She smiled and turned her head towards him, though she was closer to his knees. “Mm. I can’t imagine tiring of this.” She yawned. “Though I am getting tired. I’m just going to close my eyes for a bit. You may keep petting me if you want.”

  “Oh, may I?” Jack moved so that he lay in a similar position as Minnie, looking in her eyes. “You can’t sleep. I forbid it. Rule #3, let’s say.”

  She chuckled sleepily. “You can’t make rules on the fly.”

  “Who says I can’t?”

  “Am I allowed to sleep tonight?” she asked.

  “No. Not even tonight,” he said.

  She turned on her side and began running her hand down his arm. “I have to sleep, Jack, or I’ll be no good tomorrow.”

  “Where are you staying when we get there? Have you a place?”

  She smiled indulgently.

  “I’m only curious. I won’t turn up outside your window at three in the morning, if that’s what you’re worried about. Unless you want me to.”

  “I haven’t a place. Not yet. But there are rooms for rent for struggling starlets like myself. It’s Hollywood I’ve wanted and Hollywood I’m bound for. I thought I’d stay in a hotel for a few nights while I look.”

  He nodded and kept nodding, playing and replaying in his mind what he would say and how it would sound. “I’ve got a bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel. You—you might consider staying there—at the hotel, that is, while you’re looking.” Hell, he’d give her his bungalow, his charge accounts. Anything for another piece of her.

  Her hand moved to graze a pectoral, nails lightly scratching, teasing. He stilled it and brought it down to wrap around his dick. “See what you’re doing to me?”

  She smiled and pulled her hand away, tucking it under her head again. Her blinking grew longer, slower, her body lax, and he pressed his body to hers and whispered in her ear. “I see you fading, my canary, and soon you’ll be asleep. Against my very strict rules, remember. Here’s something for you to think about in your dreams: What if there was a Lucky Lounge in Hollywood? Just for you. And you’d star there whatever the energy of the crowd any night of the week. A regular gig. Regular pay. With your voice and performing chops, you’ll be a star.”

  When he pulled back to look at her, she had fallen asleep. He had no idea if she had heard him or how much. He circled a plump nipple and grazed a hand over a breast, wondering what he had proposed and why. Then he pulled a blanket up around her shoulders and sat back against the wall, legs splayed on the bed, hands clasped and tucked behind his head, to watch her sleep.

  What had happened to him in three days? Was he really considering opening a lounge for a woman he had only just met? A woman he barely knew? That was just it. The strangest thing of all. Almost from the very first he had felt that he knew her and she him. Not a meeting but a reacquaintance with an old and dear friend. It was peculiar that he would feel so comfortable, so right with her, with himself when he was around her, as if everyone else he had ever known had simply inhabited his world while she…made it.

  His father would laugh him out of the room if he ever admitted what he was thinking. His mother would be dismayed. They had raised him to be clear-headed and responsible. Moving to LA had been bad enough. If he discarded his dreams for the mere possibility of a woman, they would think him mad. He half did, too. Yet time, like the train, would not stop. And he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her. Not yet.

  18 hrs. to Los Angeles

  After sleeping, Jack woke painfully aroused, Minnie’s warm, lush body nestled into his. Gritting his teeth, he waited for her to wake.

  Finally he couldn’t take it any more and gently eased himself from her. Then he lay her on her back and pulled the blanket away. He studied her body for a moment before spreading her legs and moving her arms to her sides. Then he began to caress and kiss and stroke her brows, cheeks, and lips, to her jaw and down her neck, her collar bone and breasts, down to her navel and sex, her thighs down to her toes and back up, fingers grazing the backs of her knees and back up her inner thighs to her sex.

  She moaned and laced her fingers through his hair and he looked up and smiled. “I’m sorry—” he licked her bud, “—did I wake you?”

  “You know you did, darling” she said, her voice husky with sleep. “And you’re not sorry.”

  “No,” he said as he continued to work her with his mouth and fingers, playing her, drawing her close to the edge. “I’m not. And you, my canary, broke a rule.” He gripped the backs of her thighs and thrust them up and wide, her knees nearly to her chest, and thrust inside her with a moan.

  “Is this my punishment?” she asked with a sly smile as he pounded into her. “Because if it is, I’ve been very naughty. I think I’m going to need repeated correction.”

  He pressed his nose to hers as he raised a brow in mock disapproval and tsk’ed. She merely laughed and he pulled out, flipping her over and taking her from behind, a hand wrapped around her neck as he whispered. “Now who’s corrupting?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “And you like it.”

  “More than you know.”

  When he brought them to release, they collapsed on the bed, him on top of her as he wrapped his arms above her breasts and kissed down her neck and across a shoulder.

  She groaned. “If we keep this up, I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

  “I’ll carry you wherever you need to go, sweetheart.”

  “I believe you would,” she said as she reached behind her and tenderly cupped his face.

  “Believe it—” he kissed her cheek, “—because it’s true.”

  12 hrs. to Los Angeles

  They managed to dress for dinner in the dining car, Minnie’s earlier embarrassment forgotten. When they returned, they set about packing for their arrival into Los Angeles. He hung a fresh Brooks Brothers suit. She removed her dress and hung it. Shoes were sent out to be shined. Underthings were laid out. The bare minimum of toiletries was left out. All the rest were folded, tucked, and hung away. Nothing was said in those minutes, faint smiles the only thing exchanged as they passed each other.

  When Minnie emerged naked once again from the bathroom, Jack was leaning in the doorway, naked too. He cupped a cheek tenderly and peered into her eyes.

  “Are you excited for tomorrow, sweetheart?” he asked.

  In fact, she appeared stricken and worn.

  “Yes,” she managed with a small smile and Jack returned it.

  He stared at her for the longest length of time, a thumb brushing back and forth across her cheek. “Minnie?”

  “Hm?” Her eyes brightened and her smile widened.

  “If I ask you something, will you promise to hear me out before you say no?”

  “No.”

  He smiled, soft and indulgent. “Would you like to see me? In LA?”

  Her mouth parted as if she wo
uld speak, but no words came.

  “Because I would like to see you,” he continued. “Very much.” He paused to try and read her thoughts on her face. “Hm?

  “I know what we agreed to. But ‘two shorten the road,’ as they say.” She smiled in recognition of the Irish proverb. “I like you. And I want to spend more time with you. Do you like me?”

  Finally she blinked rapidly and nodded. “I like you,” she said. “I worry about liking you too much.”

  He brought his other hand to her face and cupped it as he peered into her eyes, a smile widening. “That is a good worry.”

  “Not for me.” She held one of his hands still cupping her face. “I worry about getting complacent. About being so satisfied in our friendship that I stop trying to make it.”

  He stepped back for a moment, his brow furrowing. He wanted her to be happy. To have all of her dreams come true. But he wouldn’t be a source for resentment if she didn’t.

  “How about this?” he said after a moment. “How about we take it one day at a time? You’ll stay with me in my bungalow while—” he cut off her look of denial with a wagging finger, “—you look for your own place. I will make sure you don’t like me too much.” He smiled slyly. “And you will make sure I don’t like you too much.” He paused and studied her. The hesitation. The interest. “Can we agree? Are we going to do this?”

  She paused, then finally nodded. “Yes. Yes.”

  “Good girl.” He kissed her hard as he picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and carried her to the bed.

  That night he finally made love to her absent any urgency.

  Chapter 5

  La Grande Station, Los Angeles, CA

  June 18, 1935

  The California Limited slowed as it passed a tropical garden and pulled up to burgundy brick buildings. In front of the open concourse sat a neat row of yellow taxis beside an equally neat row of smartly-dressed baggage handlers. Beyond them, a burro-drawn covered wagon advertised for passengers bound for Death Valley.

  Jack’s eyebrows rose as he pointed. “My God! Is that—”

  “A donkey?” asked Minnie. “I think so.”

  As the train came to a loud stop, brakes screeching and steam shushing, in front of a grand, leaf-covered archway, they left the sleeper to join the rest of the passengers, anxious and gaping, waiting to disembark.

  “We have reached our final destination,” a conductor called out as the train car doors swung open and porters placed stools at the bottom of the stairs. “Please check your compartments for any items you might have missed…” The conductor efficiently droned as passengers filed off the train.

  While a porter attended to their luggage, Jack took Minnie’s hand as they disembarked into a pressed sea of bodies, passengers and porters and drivers and people waiting for passengers and other trains.

  “Were all these people waiting for our train?” Minnie asked, clutching her hat and getting jostled.

  “It seems so,” Jack replied, pulling them into the station. When he turned to collect their luggage from the porter, her hand slipped from his grasp. He threw a dollar at the porter with barely a word of thanks and craned his neck to look for her. “Minnie?”

  “Jack!”

  He turned at the sound of her voice to see her strolling towards him from a newsstand. “Look.” She held up a newspaper, beaming. “The Hollywood Reporter.”

  “I suppose we’ve really arrived, then,” he said, directing her into a Harvey House.

  They ate a light breakfast while waiting for the crush of people to die down, then Jack stood to arrange their taxi.

  “Just let me freshen up first,” Minnie said, squeezing his hand and nodding at the ladies’ restroom.

  “I’ll do the same,” he replied. “Meet you right back here?”

  She nodded.

  Another cup of coffee and twenty minutes later, Jack checked his watch for the second time. Ladies tended to be longer with these details, but this was getting a little ridiculous. He flicked another glance to the ladies’ restroom door and stood. But perhaps she wasn’t feeling well and would be embarrassed that he had come looking for her. So he sat back down.

  Ten minutes later he went to the restroom door. After a minute, a middle aged woman came out and he put a hand before her. “Do you mind? I’m waiting for…” He paused, thinking how best to refer to her. “…my wife. She went in there about a half hour ago. She’s very beautiful and tall, nearly my height in her heels. She has dark brown hair and blue eyes. She’s wearing a purple dress and yellow gloves, with a black hat and shoes. She’s really very stunning. Did you, per chance, see her?”

  The woman looked him up and down, a sour expression on her face, then said, “They all look like that, Mack. I didn’t notice her.”

  He watched the woman walk away, stunned by her rudeness, then stopped another one with the same description. “Her name is Minnie. Would you mind terribly calling for her? I’m very worried about her. She’s been in there awhile now.”

  The woman gave him a kindly smile and nodded, retreating back into the restroom for a moment, then returned, shaking her head sadly. “Nobody in there fits that description or answers to that name. I’m sorry, sir.”

  He stood outside the restroom for another moment, wondering what to do. Then he entered, heedless to the shrieks and cries.

  Just what do you think you are doing, young man?

  How dare you!

  This is the ladies’ room!

  What do you mean by this? Get out!

  You pervert!

  He pushed open every stall he could, peered at the feet of those he couldn’t, then stood. “Minnie.”

  He gaped at every horrified woman, lipstick half applied, hands dripping, who was pressing herself against sinks, walls, and stalls. In sheer disbelief he looked at every wall, sink, mirror, and fixture.

  Then he ran back out to the Harvey House and looked to the counter where they were supposed to meet. “Minnie!” His eyes skated over every bland surface, every disinterested face.

  Then he went back into the terminal and out to the concourse, by the rail and taxis, turning and looking and calling for her, his mind turning, his heart racing, pulsing into his throat, drying his mouth, his calls breathy and desperate as his throat became hoarse.

  “MINNIE!”

  “Now, now, son,” said an approaching policeman, wiry and dark, “What is all this? You’re disturbing the peace of this station.”

  “Oh,” Jack grabbed his arms like a lifeline. “My friend is missing.”

  “Missing, you say,” said the policeman dubiously as he pulled out of Jack’s grip. “Was your friend a baby? Goes by the name Lindbergh?”

  Jack glared at the man. “This is not some publicity prank, I swear to you. We arrived here on the California Limited. Stopped in the Harvey House for a quick bite. Then she went to the restroom and just vanished.”

  “Women can take awhile in there.” His tone was condescending and dismissive. “With all their do-dads and what-nots.” He flicked a hand strangely as if to indicate a woman’s entire hygiene routine with a gesture.

  Jack pursed his lips. “I waited more than a half hour for her, then checked the restroom myself.” He didn’t care if the officer arrested him for indecency. “She is a beautiful young woman come to California without knowing a soul. She could be hurt or in great danger right now.”

  “How do you know her, then?” the officer asked, though his tone was decidedly more interested. “You called her a friend, said you arrived on the train together, then just now said she doesn’t know a soul here. So which is it?”

  Jack sighed and stepped back. “We met on the train and became friends. I don’t believe she knew a soul here.”

  Now the officer appeared sympathetic. “I don’t mean to insult you, Mack, but maybe she used you. A drink here. A meal there. You look fine. All Brooks Brothers and shine. A handsome devil and young. Maybe she thought, Now there’s a man with some dol
lars to spare. I’ll cozy up. Give him a kiss. You know.”

  Exasperated, Jack put his hands on his hips. “That’s not at all what happened.” Yet even as he said it, his mind was allowing it. Could he have been taken in by a confidence artist? “No. We—we liked each other. A lot. I know her and she knows me. She’s missing and needs me to find her.”

  “All right. Follow me.” The officer led Jack to a central counter with the word POLICE above it. “We’ll just fill out a missing person’s report, then.”

  Jack nodded.

  The officer bent over some papers, holding a pen. “Her name?”

  “Minnie.”

  The officer flicked a glance at him. “Last name?”

  Jack bent his head, thinking. Was it possible that he did not know her last name? Had he been so happy to hear her say Minnie that he had not pressed for more? His breath left him in an embarrassed huff. “I don’t know. I don’t know her last name.”

  The officer rolled his eyes and scribbled something when Jack saw the porter who had made up Minnie’s coach compartment that first night.

  “He knows her.” Jack pointed and signaled to the porter to come over. “What was the name of the beautiful young woman, brown hair, blue eyes, purple dress and yellow gloves, who was riding in one of your coach compartments? Minnie something…”

  “Don’t believe I recognize that description,” the porter said after some thought.

  “What do you mean you don’t recognize that description? You don’t remember serving her?”

  “No, sir. I don’t. Sorry.” He tipped his hat to Jack and the officer and walked away, Jack gaping at him.

  The officer’s eyes narrowed in increased skepticism. “What was that description, now?”

  Jack repeated Minnie’s description while the officer made notes. It was only the fourth time and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.