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  “Oh my god! So was I!” squealed Daisy.

  “I do kind of look like him,” Jesse said, moving closer to the TV.

  “I knew you were special, KT,” Dylan told me.

  I shushed them as the audience settled down. Everyone was glued to the screen as Dave continued.

  “And your selflessness continues. I hear that tomorrow you’re playing in the First Annual Celebrity Golf Classic at the L.A. Country Club to benefit . . .” He looked closer at the card he was reading. “CVD. Do you really have Cardio Vascular Disease? We have to talk. You know I had a quintuple bypass.”

  “Yes, I know, Dave,” Jimmy returned. “But in this case, CVD stands for Color Vision Deficiency, otherwise known as color blindness.”

  Dave did a double take that got a laugh. “Color blindness. Was ingrown toenail taken?”

  “It’s my disease, Dave,” Jimmy replied sincerely. “I know personally that CVD can lead to severe depression and lack of self-esteem.”

  “And outfits like yours.” Dave held up Jimmy’s record as the theme music began to play. “Jimmy Savage, adios, Ladies and Gentlemen! Good night!”

  We all started high-fiving and jumping for joy. I had gone from the deepest depths to the highest high of my life in just a few minutes. For a millisecond, I thought about Willard telling me to stay hopeful, and how, if we hadn’t gone to see him when we did and left at the exact time we did, we never would have been at the cantina to see the Letterman show. I wondered if maybe things did happen for a reason.

  Then I heard Gabe saying to Daisy, “Do you think you could get us some cans of caffeine? Pulse, Jolt, Red Bull, whatever you’ve got. We’re leaving for L.A. now!” and I saw our teen waitress scurrying off to the kitchen.

  I noticed that Dylan had walked to the side of the stage to pick up his guitar, and I went over to him.

  “I know what this means to you,” he said tenderly.

  “I know you do,” I told him. “So go home now, Dylan, and please, just let me do what I have to do.” And with that, I headed for the ladies’ room to get in a final pee and make room for the caffeine. As I walked down the hall, I heard Jesse talking to Dylan, so I stopped for a second to listen.

  “Hey, Dylan,” said Jesse, “you okay?”

  “I really love her.” Dylan’s voice cracked a little bit.

  “I feel you, man. I really do.”

  “So please, take good care of her,” Dylan instructed him.

  I couldn’t take any more. I suddenly began feeling guilty. It was so annoying. I had never asked him to fall in love with me. To tell the truth, I had never felt I was very lovable. But here he was, in pain on account of me, and I was feeling bad about it. I had never felt guilty about it before. Something inside me seemed to be shifting. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew it was annoying. I’d had enough. I ran into the ladies’ room, and when I came out, Dylan was gone.

  Jesse and Gabe were standing at the bar waiting for the drinks.

  “It’s mind-blowing,” Jesse said. “We’re actually members of the Lucky Sperm Club.”

  “What’s that?” Gabe wanted to know.

  “In the beginning it meant kids who were lucky enough to have rich parents, but now it includes the kids of celebrities,” I told them. “It means anyone who has good stuff happening just because they are who they are. And we’re the Savages.” When we realized what I had just said, we all burst out laughing.

  “And I can get a tattoo,” I added. “Maybe on the way home, we can stop off at Willard’s.”

  “This is so crazy,” Gabe said.

  Jesse looked down at his hemp shoes. “Willard told me the path would be revealed. And he said that we were on a journey to find something more than our dad. I better go out to the car and make room.” With that, he headed out the door.

  Gabe and I stood there puzzled. “What do you mean by ‘make room’? For what?” I called after Jesse.

  Just then, Daisy arrived with a huge bag of canned drinks. The way she smiled at Gabe told me that I should get lost, but I really wanted to know what was happening, so I moved off a little way, but still within earshot. They didn’t know or care where I was.

  “You think this is enough?” Daisy asked.

  “It’s perfect,” Gabe said, taking the bag from her. “Hey, can you tell me how come you’re so nice and easy to talk to?”

  “I don’t know,” Daisy answered. “When you figure it out, you tell me.”

  “I will,” Gabe said, looking into her eyes. “You know, you look a lot like Miley Cyrus, but prettier.”

  “Everybody tells me that,” Daisy giggled.

  “But much prettier,” he added shyly.

  They stood there just smiling at each other. It was sweet and revolting at the same time.

  “Hey, Gabe,” Daisy asked finally, “do you think you could make room for me in your car?”

  chapter nineteen

  There was nothing I could do. She attached herself to Gabe and there was no saying no. Strangely, by the time we got to the car, Jesse had already taken off the top and rearranged all our stuff so there was a little more room in the back seat. How did he know we would need it? I don’t know. Something had happened to him in that labyrinth, and he was tuned into everything on another level. Except for the line-dancing remark, Swimmy seemed like a different person. I kind of missed the old, self-involved dude I was used to. He was waiting at the wheel, and I got in the shotgun seat while Gabe and Daisy squeezed into the back.

  Jesse turned on a soft-rock station that made me nauseous, but I knew enough not to say anything. We took off into the warm, starry desert night and I pretended to be asleep while I listened to the conversation behind me. This is how it went:

  DAISY: So after a gazillion people told me I looked like Miley, I knew what I was meant to do.

  GABE: Be a singer?

  DAISY: Wrong. I told you I can’t sing.

  GABE: Be a movie star?

  DAISY: No, silly, I can’t act to save my life.

  GABE: Then what?

  DAISY: What I was meant to do is to be Miley Cyrus’s stand-in. That’s the person they focus the lights on. And sometimes that person gets to hang out with the star. I’ve made a study of it.

  GABE: You’re very determined, aren’t you?

  DAISY: I am, and when you said you were driving to L.A., I knew it was a sign for me to go for my dream. Do you have a dream, Gabe?

  I’d never heard anything quite like this before. My arroz rose in my throat. This kind of talk was truly puke-worthy. I looked at Jesse, who was speeding and swigging a can of Jolt. He was smiling. I could see we were not at all on the same page, so I decided to go to sleep to escape the horror of what was going on around me.

  As I dropped off, I could hear Gabe saying, “I think I want to be a scientist or a magician, but I haven’t decided yet.”

  And Daisy cooing, “Whatever you do, you’re going to stand out. You’re so different.”

  And Gabe answering, “You’re different, too. You’re the first girl I’ve ever felt comfortable with.”

  “You’re just sayin’ that.”

  “No, I’m not. I always say exactly what I mean except when I’m doing magic.”

  “Me, too,” Daisy answered.

  Thankfully, at that point I went unconscious. When I woke up, Daisy was giving herself a manicure, and we were just passing through Victorville. I checked the gas gauge, which was dangerously close to empty.

  “We’re gonna need gas soon,” I announced. We had enough gas money to get us to L.A., but I wanted to see where she was coming from. “You kicking in, Daisy?

  “Of course I am,” she declared. “My granddaddy used to live in Victorville, so I know this area. There’s a little casino with a pump about forty miles up the road. Do you think we can make it forty miles on what we got?”

  “If we’re lucky,” I snapped. Why did I find everything she said annoying?

  “What do you think, Gabe?” she aske
d. “Do you feel lucky?” “Very,” he told her.

  I turned around so if I did puke, it would be on them. Then I had to watch as she took Gabe’s hand in hers.

  “I bet you never had a manicure,” she said softly. “I’d like to give you your first.” And that’s what she proceeded to do. Really. She actually pulled out a manicure kit and filed and shaped his nails, massaged his hands with lotion, and applied clear polish with the greatest of care, after which she fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. And he just sat there, with his eyes wide open and a dopey smile on his face, checking out his hands and drinking up her closeness.

  I opened my mouth to make a bitchy remark. But before I could, Jesse whispered, “Don’t spoil it for him, KT. Keep it to yourself.” So that’s what I did, against my better judgment.

  chapter twenty

  It was four thirty in the morning, and we were on empty when we saw a huge sign lighting up the night that read GOLDEN NUGGET CASINO. Shiny gold nuggets and sparkling glasses of champagne shooting off neon bubbles surrounded the name, and it stood next to a small motel that featured a lighted swimming pool and a big, slick-looking casino.

  Daisy was right. They did have a two-pump gas station. The only trouble was a sign taped to the pump that read WILL OPEN AT 6:00 A.M. We stared at it as if that would change what it said, and when it didn’t, we all got out of the car.

  “Casino’s open,” Jesse said. “Think they’d let me play a machine, Daisy?”

  “How ’bout me?” I added. “I just chugged a can of Red Bull.”

  “You can play here at any age and in any condition,” quipped Daisy. “You’re gonna see a bunch of seniors and probably some toddlers in their mamas’ laps. Here, take my tips and win something.”

  She pulled a handful of change and few crumpled dollar bills out of her purse and handed half to Jesse and half to me.

  As we pocketed the money and took off, we saw the lovebirds holding hands and settling into two lounge chairs by the pool.

  “Wait a sec, Jess,” I said, pretending to tie my shoe. I was feeling really protective about Gabe, and I wanted to hear what was going on. I didn’t trust Daisy, and I was scared that she was going to hurt him.

  “So many stars,” he was saying. “That’s the best part about the desert.”

  Daisy pointed up at the sky. “That one is Miley, and that one’s Demi Lovato, and . . .” I looked at Jesse and rolled my eyes. He put his finger to his lips to signal me to hush.

  Gabe took her hand and pointed to the brightest star.

  “That’s the one the light is focused on. That’s you, Daisy,” he said.

  She smiled at him sweetly. I started to go back, but Jesse grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the casino. I could still hear her saying, “You know, it won’t be easy saying goodbye to you.”

  I turned back to hear him say, “We’ve still got tomorrow.” They both lay there with their eyes closed, swinging their clasped hands.

  “I have to save him,” I told Jesse.

  “You have to butt out,” he stated gently but emphatically and dragged me toward the casino.

  When we walked through the doors, I was amazed to see:

  a)how big the place was (probably three hundred slots and fifty gaming tables);

  b)how old the patrons were (I guess old people have insomnia, because they were out in force, leaning over the slots with their oxygen tanks next to them like service animals); and

  c)how no one checked our IDs or even looked at us sideways.

  We decided to play twenty-five cent video poker. I played and Jesse managed to score some free little cheese tarts and Cokes for us from one of the cute waitresses wandering around. We traded off, feeding the machine with no results until suddenly, when we were down to our last few quarters, I put one in and we heard a loud click. A red light began flashing, and the machine started to make crazy noises. We were staring at a straight flush and a sign above the machine was blinking “$300.” Then the machine began playing music, and we began hugging each other and jumping up and down. A few of the oldsters turned to stare at us, but most never even looked our way.

  We heard a clanking sound and waited for the slot to spit out chips, but nothing happened. “That sounds like money’s coming!” Jesse crowed. Still, nothing happened. “Give it up for Mama,” I shouted, banging the machine. There was just silence, and then the click of a ticket spitting out above a little sign: YOU MUST BE 21 TO REDEEM WINNING TICKETS.

  “We’re screwed,” I said.

  “Whatever it is, KT, it is,” Jesse remarked calmly, and with that he headed back to the pool.

  I followed him. What the hell had happened to him? When we reached the pool, I pulled a lounge chair closer to Daisy, making as much noise as possible and waking her, which was the point.

  Jesse flopped down on a chair near Gabe, who was snoring like an asthmatic warthog.

  “Sometimes not getting what you want is getting what you need, and I need sleep.” And with that, Jesse closed his eyes and was out.

  “Daisy,” I asked, “you wouldn’t happen to be twenty-one, would you?”

  “Uh-uh,” she answered, yawning.

  I pulled out the ticket and studied it. “Worthless,” I said. Daisy took it from my hand and looked it over.

  “I can look very mature,” she told me, unbuttoning a button on her blouse and pursing her lips in what she thought was a sexy expression.

  “You look like a fish with a rack,” I said.

  “I also have a fake ID,” she smiled.

  “Go for it, my friend. Three hundred smackeroos, and we’ll cut you in.”

  She kissed Gabe on the forehead, grabbed her backpack, and headed for the casino. I lay back and waited. The Red Bull must have worn off because, in less than five minutes, I was out.

  We woke up with sun blazing down on the three of us and a man’s voice calling, “If that’s your car, either move it or fill it up.”

  I pried my eyes open to see the gas station attendant hanging an OPEN sign. Jesse got up, digging for the keys in his jeans.

  “Where’s Daisy?” asked Gabe.

  “She had a fake ID, so she went in to cash our $300 winning ticket,” I told him.

  Jesse checked his watch. “That was two hours ago.”

  We all looked around, but we already knew. The only movement we could see was a plastic cup with a straw threaded through a paper sail with Gabe’s name on it, floating in the pool. He kneeled, plucked it from the water, read it, put it back in, and watched it float away. “Let’s go,” he said.

  Jesse put his hand on Gabe’s shoulder, and they walked toward the Jeep. I hung back. The cup was spinning around in the water, so I got down on my knees to read the message. It read, “It’s too hard to say goodbye. Look for me in the stars. Love, Daisy.”

  chapter twenty-one

  I wanted to tell Gabe I had a feeling that Daisy was trouble from the minute she slammed my plate down at the cantina, but something told me not to say a word. I guess, I thought, this is how other people’s brains connect to their mouths. They actually think before they speak. Gabe took the wheel. The backseat probably held too many memories. Jesse and I didn’t say anything because there was nothing we could say that could make Gabe feel better.

  Jesse waited an hour before reminding us that we needed to come up with a plan to get to Jimmy Savage at the golf tournament. There was sure to be celebrity security, and nobody would ever believe our story. We put our heads together and came up with a simple, but brilliant operation. Gabe actually came out of himself and got involved in cooking up the scheme, and Jesse’s shoes had apparently raised his IQ substantially because he invented some of the best elements. I was kind of the overall mastermind, and all together “The Savages” made a pretty good team.

  We drove into the parking lot of the L.A. Country Club about a half hour before the tournament was scheduled to begin. There was a huge banner with the words COLOR VISION DEFICIENCY CELEBRITY GOLF TOURNAMENT writt
en on it. A guard at the lot waved us in. It was already more than half full with cars packed in really tight. We got out, took our parking ticket, and gave him our keys. Gabe quickly put on Jesse’s purple shorts and my stretched-out lime T-shirt. We reviewed our M.O. and walked to the entrance of the club, where tables were set up for check-in. Color-challenged kids, wearing all sorts of hideous combinations, were wandering around. Gabe fit right in.

  We checked out the manicured grounds and the huge, tile-roofed clubhouse, looking for the caddy shack. When we found it, we noticed the “shack” could have housed an army of caddies. I stuffed some lawn clippings from a grounds container into my pocket just as a caddy, about our age, came out of the shack. He was wearing a baseball cap with MARIO LOPEZ written on it. Then a second caddy with a DAVID SPADE cap passed us, and finally came a smirky looking dude wearing a JIMMY SAVAGE cap.

  Gabe gave me a nudge. “There’s your pigeon.”

  “Operation Father’s Day is underway,” I whispered.

  I wandered up to Jimmy’s caddy, who was locking the door to the shack.

  “Cool hat,” I told him, smiling. “You really his caddy?”

  “Yeah, I’m his guy,” he told me. “Only the top caddies get the rock stars.”

  Once again, my brain actually connected to my mouth. “You must be the best,” I cooed.

  “I make ’em look good,” he said like a true a-hole.

  “I bet,” I said. Then, in a sexy whisper, I added the capper, “How’d you like to smoke a J?”

  “Sweet,” he answered. “I just had my drug test.”

  He set his clubs down and unlocked the door to the shack, and I slithered past him. He followed and closed the door. Then he put his keys down, reached under a pile of towels, and pulled out a booklet of Zig Zags. I took one, rolled the lawn clippings into a J, and handed it to him. He held a match to it, closed his eyes, and took a deep drag.

  “This is one fine J,” he said, leaning in toward me and trying to look sexy. Actually, he looked dumb and disgusting.

  I moved toward him as if to lock lips, grabbed his hat and his keys, and was out the door before he could exhale. I locked it from the outside and handed the baseball cap with Jimmy’s name on it over to Jesse, who already had the golf bag on his shoulder. He gave me a thumbs-up and stomped off to where the caddies and players were meeting while I went searching for Gabe.