Power Slide Read Online Free PDF Page A

place to talk to him, a good, calm, bucolic spot for him to be in when he called Jed. It had been designed by Bernard Maybeck for the 1915 Pan Pacific Exposition and appeared to be a Greco-Roman temple. Maybeck had made it to crumble. But he hadn’t counted on San Franciscans loving it too much to let it go. So, it had been restored early on and again in 2009. I’d catch up with Guthrie at the lagoon in front. It’d be quiet.
    But it wasn’t quiet, not hardly. Despite the fog, the street in front had been closed off and there seemed to be some kind of party or rally going on, spreading from the park lawn in front of the lagoon into the street. “No way we’re going to get through here.”
    “Where’s your guy? I can’t believe this. I lost him!”
    “No! You can’t—”
    My phone rang. I shrugged—this little venture was shot anyway—and answered it.
    “Darcy?”
    “It’s him!” I mouthed to Gracie.

    “Darcy . . .” His voice was muffled under the crackling of the phone, but still I could hear his hesitation.
    I waited.
    “I need to ask you something.”
    He was a jump-in guy; he never foreshadowed comments like this.
    “Okay?”
    “I don’t want to do this on the phone. I need to be with you. It’s a big step.”
    What, dammit? Spit it out! “Okay. I live above the Barbary Coast Zen Center on Pacific by Columbus. Why don’t you meet me in the courtyard?”
    “How fast can you get there?”

5
    “SLIDE OVER, GRACIE.”
    “You can’t drive. Your hands—”
    “I’ll use my elbows.” I pulled the driver’s door open. “Move!” I didn’t even feel pain when I grabbed the gear knob and smacked it into reverse, did a three-point over the curb, and cut back through the warren of the Marina.
    Gracie braced her hands against the dashboard. “This isn’t a set; it’s a city street. Slow down. What the hell did he say?”
    “He wants to ask me something—needs to do it in person!”
    “Interesting.”
    I glanced at her but didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Instead, I concentrated working out the fastest route across the city. Suddenly it struck me that Gracie wasn’t saying anything either. I sneaked a peek at her. She looked like Guthrie’d sounded on the phone, like she had something stuck in her throat she couldn’t cough up. “What?”
    “This guy’s important to you, right? Even if you’ve never mentioned him to me. It’s obvious.”
    “Yeah.”
    “You haven’t been excited like this, not over a guy, not since you moved back here anyway. You’d be happy if he stuck around?”

    I nodded. “I guess that’s true. I would.”
    “So, Darce, how many months till he’ll be gone, like all the others?”
    I gasped. I heard the sound before I realized it came from me. “Who the hell are you to talk—divorced and back living with Mom.” It was a low blow.
    But not low enough. “I’m one who knows, and so are you. Don’t let this be the same old routine. You’ve got to give this thing—this guy—a chance.”
    “I intend—”
    “You intended every time you met a guy, right?”
    “Yeah, but—”
    “No, listen, there’s only one way to make the change. You have to get past Mike. We all do. For the lot of us, time stopped when Mike left. We went on and found things we could escape into, careers that don’t give you time for extra thought. With your job, your mind wanders and, bang, you’re dead, right? All of us, we look like we’ve moved on, but emotionally, we’re all still sitting in Mom’s living room waiting for the phone to ring or Mike to walk back in. And Mom, it’s worse for her. Darce, it’s got to stop.”
    “What do you mean?” She sounded like she’d rehearsed in front of a mirror. It scared me.
    “We have to give it one last shot—all of us, throw everything into finding Mike. The difference is . . . that this needs to be the final search.”
    “Final, like what? Like the next time we get a lead, we blow it off? Are you crazy? What’re we