Undead L.A. 1 (33 page)

In order to justify the hefty price of admission they'd racked up a list of local bands to perform just for the pleasure of seeing their name on the flier and having a built-in crowd. Once they'd filled those slots, they hired a few one-hit wonders to do three or four sets throughout the day. That night when the sun went down the Red Hot Chili Peppers were slated to play during a free laser light show.

The news that one of L.A.'s most famous and beloved bands was performing had caught the attention of the radio stations, who began to promote the event nonstop and sent their own people to cover the event. Throngs of fans came early to pack the streets, making traffic nearly unbearable on the way in.

To make matters worse there was a huge trial happening nearby in the downtown courthouse. Some sports hero had been accused of murdering a big-breasted blonde porn star and the media had gone crazy. It was believed the jury would return a verdict later that day. Every news and entertainment reporter in town had a camp set up ready to capture it, eager to spin the verdict the minute it hit. The case had drawn international attention, especially after several celebrities were embroiled. It came to light during the defense’s testimony that she used to do high-end escorting on the side with half of the stars in Hollywood.

I practically had to drive over a small mob while trying to get
Sugar Rush
past the courthouse as crowds of people swept up in the media sensationalism swarmed like locusts against the red light, eagerly awaiting word of their hero’s fate. And as if that wasn't enough the Grammy's were being held nearby later that night, which meant there were security sweeps already under way to prevent terrorism, resulting in blocked streets and further delays. There was also a marijuana-slash-tattoo convention being held down by the Staples Center, but I figured they would only help our cause.

By the time I pulled in I was over two hours late. My other trucks were already up and ready for business. My
Sugar Rush
girls looked annoyed at having to wait for me, but quickly changed their tune when I put them to work setting up shop. When they were finished I rewarded them by letting them hand out samples and stickers, which meant they got to wander around and flirt with cute guys and see all the trucks. Manny laughed as he saw them go.

“
You act all hard, c
hica,
but underneath it all you're a real softie.”

“
Don't kid yourself,” I quickly replied. “Those girls are going to bring in some paying customers in their tight shorts and baby T's. I may run the Sugar Shack but ain't nothing sweet on me but my gangsta lean.” I threw my arms up like a
vato
, nodding my head and squinting my eyes for effect. He let out a hearty laugh that seemed to come from the bottom of his belly, before locking eyes with me.

“
I'm proud of you, Pilar,” he said, an easy smile painted from ear to ear. “You did good, little sister. You did real good.”

“
We did good,” I corrected him. “I couldn't have done it without your help. This belongs to us, to all of us.”

“
Yeah,” he said, fighting back tears. He'd grown even more gentle after giving birth to a baby girl, my niece, Lupita. “We did good.”

“
La Familia.”

“
La Familia.”

“
Speaking of which, where are my sister and that adorable niece of mine hiding today?”

“
It's too hot for them out here; too crowded. Rosario is at your place taking care of Lupita and your father. I told her I'd try to be back early, that I'd leave before the bands started. It's funny. I miss being alone. I miss having time to myself. I crave it all the time. But the minute I get out on my own all I can think of is my wife and my kid. Crazy huh?”

“
You're a good man,” I said. “My sister is very lucky to be with you. We're all lucky.”

“
You trying to make me cry? It won't work you know,” he said playfully. “You better get back to the grind. Any minute now we're going to be overrun by hungry people with too much money in their pockets and not enough common sense.”

“
Those are my people.”

The event was a success beyond even what I had imagined. Hordes of people descended on the trucks and we were nearly out of supplies before three o'clock. I was working so much I didn't have time to step off the truck until noon, when I left the girls in charge and offered to help Tui cook up the last of the Thai sliders. Sensing an opportunity at hand, Manny went to the nearby CVS and bought bottled water and canned soda. It was hot and we still had a long night ahead of us. We marked up the prices on the beverages and watched them quickly sell out as well. We made more from them then we did from the food and merchandise.

By six o'clock I had given up and began to wander. In my own mind I told myself that I was doing my due diligence by checking out the competition, but really I was just exhausted. More than anything I just needed a break, needed to let go of worrying about food and money and growing my empire. I hadn't been on a date in longer than I could remember, hadn't even liked anyone, until recently.

I first laid eyes on Brian over on Windward Circle in Venice Beach. It was getting late but the traffic on Abbot Kinney had slowed down to a crawl, even by the Brigg. I decided to head on over to the Townhouse and park next to the Don Chow truck, maybe talk the operator into swapping food.

Brian had a spicy curry truck he was running with a friend called
The Hot Pot
. It was half the size of a normal truck and looked more like a trailer. He had a steady stream of West Coast gangsta rap pumping out of the shiny silver rolling kitchen, and was singing along to the words of The Game's latest hit, profanity and all. He looked up and caught me staring, giving me a confident wink for a reply before scooping out a hot batch of slop onto sticky rice for a drunk but grateful customer. Around three in the morning, when things had calmed down, we walked near the Breakwater and talked, holding hands. We stepped over homeless people sleeping in the sand like they were hippies sleeping off a long night of partying.

I let him kiss me, but nothing more. It was the best kiss I've ever had in my whole life. I felt like I was floating away, like I couldn't breathe anymore, like I didn't have to. He was everything I was looking for in a partner – polite, funny, smart, and cute – so naturally I ran away from him as fast as I could.

I made up every excuse to avoid him, blaming my career, my father's health, even my sister. What started out as hour-long phone calls in the middle of the night quickly dwindled to laconic text replies and skipped calls sent to voice mail. I was scared. I admit it. There was something about him – a certain magic in the way he spoke – that went right to the core of me. I felt powerless around him, like I would be willing to throw away everything I'd worked for just to be with him. I tried my best to stay away but he was always in the back of my mind, like an itch I couldn't quite reach.

I'd seen his name on the event flier and felt my heart skip a beat. It did it again, betraying me once more, when I laid eyes on him by his truck at the end of my very long day. He had on black, faded designer skinny jeans, and a ripped t-shirt with a
Guitar Center
logo. He wore a silver guitar pick around his neck on a flat, thin chain. His hair was typical for an Asian guy; black, shiny, simple, and straighter than uncooked noodles. There was a confidence in his gait that he checked to avoid coming off arrogant. It was just one of the little things I noticed that made me love him even more.

He smiled at me like I hadn't been avoiding his calls for over a month, like we had just finished our first romantic moonlight stroll on the beach the first night we'd met. I felt my mouth go dry and my palms begin to sweat.

“Hey you,” he casually began. “Selling anything?”

“
You know it,” I said, feeling like an idiot and second-guessing myself the minute the words came out of my mouth. “We're pretty much down to moving overpriced sugar water at this point. We got nothing else left.”

He smiled again with his face, but his eyes seemed to be searching mine for some kind of sign.

“You been catching these sunsets lately? Or have you been too busy in the truck, slaving away?”

“
I never miss a sunset,” I sternly reminded him. It had been one of the safe topics we'd covered many times in the course of getting to know each other better. “You know that.”

“
Just checking. Wanna catch this one with me?”

“
What about your truck? You look like you are still selling. I'd hate to take you away from your work.”

“
It's no problem,” he causally replied. “I'm running low as well and my brother came to help out. He says he wants to learn the ropes, but I think he just came to see the Chili Peppers.”

I laughed a little too easily and caught myself. Everything I did felt so awkward around Brian and I didn't know why. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling, but it had little effect. Brian didn't seem to notice. He reached out and took me by the hand, leading me to a better vantage point to see the magnificent display happening between the tall buildings.

Even though it was late in September, it still felt like summer in Los Angeles. For the last two weeks the dry Santa Ana winds contributed to keeping the temperatures higher than normal, while the smog and chemicals hanging in the air from the refineries and factories transformed the late afternoon sunsets into a mind blowing acid flashback. Somewhere north of four o'clock the air took on a golden quality as the sun blazed a path directly into the choppy water of the Pacific Ocean, like Orpheus courageously plunging into the depths of the underworld to save his beloved Eurydice. It left behind a brilliant wall of fiery clouds that resembled an angry blast furnace set high enough to melt every golden idol the City of Angels had ever erected to itself, or at least all the trophies from the countless award shows Hollywood hosted each year.

So breathtaking was this display that Angelinos would walk outside and stare at it in wonder, some even acknowledging their unfamiliar neighbors with idle chatter, their eyes all glued to the spectacle. Drivers pulled to the side of the road in rush hour traffic to drink in the phenomenon, not wanting to be distracted. Some even ignored their cell phones for the duration of the event, leaving their Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and Pinterest updates to wait until later in the evening.

We all watched the sky together, knowing in our heart of hearts this was one of the reasons for putting up with all the drama that living in this fucked up city brings with it – the unfairness, the cold distances, and the inconceivable economic inequality so brashly shoved in our faces on a daily basis by the city's well off. It didn't matter if you'd lived here your whole life in a run down apartment in Van Nuys or owned half the real estate on the water in Malibu. These sunsets belonged to all of us and we knew it. Any seat in the house was as good as the next. All you had to do was look up. I made it a point never to miss one.

An hour would pass and then the sky would morph once again, the righteous fury of the sky begrudgingly relinquishing its stranglehold as the light spilled over the rim of the world, leaving in its place fluffy pink tufts of sticky cotton candy like something out of a children’s book. These whirling balls of vibrant spun sugar lazily drifted overhead, idly threatening to flood the city in a deluge of rainbow colored gumballs as they passed, before fading into the darkness of dusk like a merry old drunk swooning through traffic on his way back home from the bar. As the last rays of light vanished like memories from a dream and night finally fell, there came an infusion of deep purple the color of a fresh bruise that uniformly blanketed the endless space over our heads. Wooly silver strings and twinkling diamonds haphazardly gleamed down on us while the deliciously cool air licked refreshingly at our skin and lingered in our nostrils like the long forgotten smell of a favorite perfume from puberty. The night concealed horrors in its velvet folds, yes, but also magic and wonder as well. Anything could happen on a wild summers night. Fortunes could be made or lives lost. Since this was the City of Angels, odds were good that more than a handful of people would experience both such scenarios before the sun rose once more.

I was somewhere between the fantasy of getting married and visions of starting our family when I noticed something was off. In the distance it looked like the crowd had started rioting. My first thought was to protect my truck from looters, but as I stiffened Brian gave my hand a gentle squeeze to calm me down.

The first wave came at us so fast it was like something out of a Hollywood horror movie come to life. It looked like a tidal wave of people swarming over each other like bugs, with bright red flowers blooming around their bodies like a field of crimson poppies. A gentle breeze floated down our way, bringing with it the sounds of terror as well as the smell of rotting flesh. I gagged as it hit my nose, odors mingling with the million other smells of exotic foods still fighting to dominate the air. I did my best to hold it back in front of him, but eventually it just came up. I buckled over and threw up cupcakes and tacos, the only things I'd managed to scarf down during my long shift. I looked up to Brian, shame blazing in my red cheeks, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. He didn't seem to notice my sickness. He held my hand tight; his eyes fixed to the wall of madness headed our way.