“You act all hard, chica, 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.
“Something’s wrong,” he said in a small, quiet voice.
The thought to turn and run struck me but I felt rooted in place, unable to turn away. I knew we would never make it anyway. We were surrounded by people on all sides, boxed in almost shoulder-to-shoulder with the wriggling masses. A tiny voice inside of me said a prayer, hoping that if we just stood still long enough the insanity would sweep past us and leave us untouched. A sinking feeling filled my guts, and I knew it wasn't going to happen. We were staring at our approaching deaths and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it.
Brian turned me toward him and planted a kiss on my lips. It didn't matter that I'd hurled just moments before. Nothing mattered really, not in the face of what was heading our way. I remembered that I had mints in my pocket and pushed him back.
“Wait,” I said, as he tried to kiss me once more. “Let me freshen my breath.”
We both took a handful and began chewing them as fast as we could. There was a deep sense of urgency to our actions. This was it and we both knew it, our last chance to feel some sense of intimacy before our lives were snuffed out like candles doused with seawater. There were so many regrets I had, so many things I still wanted to do with my life, but I didn't have time to worry about them at all. All I had time for was one last kiss.
Brian was ripped from me before I had time to savor the moment. I opened my eyes to see him being carried away by a mass of blood-soaked men and women. He looked like a skinny brown twig swooshed away in a sudden downpour. He screamed out at the top of his lungs, futilely waving his hands around like white surrender flags. In seconds he was gone, slipping beneath the pack of bloodthirsty killers and being piled over like a fresh kill. His harrowing screams rang out one last round, then fell silent until there was nothing left to hear but the sounds of low growls, the tearing of flesh, and the gurgling of his gooey liquid center leaking out like some kind of molten dessert cake for psychotic cannibals.
A roar sounded behind me and I wheeled around in fear, my nerves rattled, fresh adrenaline painfully coursing through me. That's when I saw the man I knew would take my life coming toward me like the Angel of death. He was young, not much older than your average high school kid, but his already ropy muscles protruded from somewhere underneath his dusky skin. Thick black hair stuck out from the bottom of his chin like shiny thread. A large gash in his forehead caused black blood to dribble down between his milky eyes, only to congeal in the hot sun. There were large chunks of flesh ripped out of his forearms that reached all the way down to the exposed white bones underneath. I opened my mouth and screamed.
“NO!”
But it was already too late. With an iron grip, he seized me by the sides of both of my arms. I felt a trickle of hot fear shooting down my leg and puddling into my left sneaker as I lost control of my bladder. I was physically shaking, my spiking adrenaline levels turning my limbs into useless quivering obstacles. In one swift movement he opened his terrible mouth, bringing his face forward and toward me with deadly intent. I screamed as loud as I ever had in my life, knowing it was hopeless, but not able to do much else. He lifted me off the ground until my feet kicked wildly at the air. One of my shoes came flying off in the process, but that was the least of my worries. His face was approaching my breasts. For a terrifying moment I imagined that he would chew right through me, but at the last second he tilted his head like a teenager learning how to French kiss and clamped down with his dirty mouth full of jagged teeth on the meat of my right arm.
Shock flooded my system as I felt the teeth gnawing into my skin. I felt cold now and totally numb. I was aware that this strong kid had just torn a chunk of my arm away with his teeth and was now chewing on the raw meat, but I still didn't feel anything. A loud explosion rang out behind me. I was still suspended in the air, shivering with fear, unable to make a sound. The man-child holding me turned toward the sound of the commotion. In an instant he hurled me to the ground, discarding me like fast food for something better. I hit the ground hard, my limp body splayed out as if I was already dead. My head collided with the asphalt and there was ringing in my ears, but still no pain. I took shallow breaths as I stared up at the brilliant sunset above me, doing my best to block out and ignore the mindless animals around me engaged in vicious cannibal acts of savagery.
My head tilted to the side and I saw that the pile of people who had taken Brian away had finally dissipated, moving on to fresh meat. Brian’s feet seemed to sporadically twitch. A thought drifted through my mind like the forgotten lyrics to an old song.
What if he is already dead and gone? What if what you are seeing is just the start of him reanimating, like the others? That would mean you are dying, too, right now. Soon you will be one of them, just like the man who killed you.
It was an ugly thought and I tried to push it out of my head. It had all happened too quickly. I wasn't ready to die. I wanted answers. I wanted to know what had happened and why it had been allowed. I wanted to hit the pause button on reality, get up and dust myself off, and go home. I would leave the trucks. I could always come back and get them. More than anything in the world I wanted to be home with my aging father and my sister Rosario and my beautiful new niece.
�
��No,” I managed, my voice sounding low and sick. Beads of sweat began to pour down from my forehead. I had hot and cold chills, but I was no longer in shock. I could feel the throbbing pain in my arm along with the flow of warm blood leaving my body. I'd had a bad fever when I was in the 3rd grade. My father and sister had gone off to run the truck, but my Abuelita had stayed with me. She used warm washcloths on my forehead and sang to me in Spanish until the fever broke. I was so scared that I was going to die. I'd never felt that awful before. More than anything I worried that I would never see my family again. That same feeling now crept into me, filling me with dread to the core.
“I don't want to die! Please, not yet!”
Using every bit of determination I still had at my disposal, I managed to roll onto my side. There was a hand digging into my side. I lifted it to my face, realizing in horror that it was some stranger’s hand. The fingernails were well manicured and the wrist still had an expensive mans watch ticking away on it. There was course hair on the tan skin of the remains of the arm, and the limb ended in a jagged mess of bloody torn skin sporting protruding veins. I threw it away into the passing crowd, which now moved like a slow river made of amber as more people like me arose from the ground and began moving in the direction of the courthouse.
I saw Brain starting to stand up, but before he could push himself up he fell back down and began shaking again.
He's alive, I thought with excitement. Maybe we aren't going to die after all. We've survived!
The thought alone was enough to propel me back to my feet. I scurried toward him, unstable on legs that no longer wanted to listen to me. I chalked up their stiffness to the impact of the fall I'd just taken. I opened my mouth to call his name, but what came out made no sense. A dribble of blood rolled off my tongue as I realized I'd accidentally bitten through my lower lip trying to get up. I hadn't even noticed.
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