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August 2017

Chili Fries

By | Serial | No Comments

Fifteen minutes later, Rhea drove up to Tommy’s. It was after three. Only a few of the late night boys were still out, hanging around on the corner. They were the not-so-beautiful. Thank God for that. She was determined to resist the urge and these were easier to ignore than the finer ones who got swooped up before eleven.

She pulled into the drive-through lane, behind a car full of Stoners.

The speaker squawked. “Welcometotommy’swhatchoowant?”

Stoner driver yelled back, “Two big motherfucking tacos and a, a–”

The speaker squawked, “We don’t have no tacos–”

“And a couple Chimmichangas–” Stoner carried on.

Squawker drowned him out, “This is Tommy’s, man–”

Stoner blasted on, “And some nachos and a–”

Squawker blasted back, “We don’t have that shit, man, lookit the menu-”

The three stoners stared at the backlit plastic menu for forever. No comprende. Rhea was hungry. And annoyed. She looked around and saw a white boy with long legs, sitting on the cement wall next to the drive-through, nursing a coke. He was definitely not ragged. And it looked like his jeans had a button fly – easy access. “Lordy, no–” she thought. I cannot go there. She looked back at the stoners, who were still staring at the menu, and honked. Loud. The stoners jumped and looked back at Rhea. The head Stoner yelled at her.

“Whatchoo want, baybee, Huh? How ’bout I getchoo a taco? Huh? You like a taco?”

Another stoner pulled him back in the car. Their windows were open. In the quiet late night air, Rhea heard every word, “No, man, she’s too old–”

Rhea had enough. She got out of her car, walked up to them and leaned into the driver’s window.

“Put the smoke down and look at the menu.” she ordered them. Still no comprende. She pointed to it and read, “Hamburger. Double Burger. Cheese Burger. Chili Dog. Fries. Double fries. Chili fries– and oooh! Look! there’s a burrito–” she leaned in farther and addressed the stoner who’d dissed her.

“Maybe just some plain fries for you, fat boy, you’re looking a little chunky.”

“Woo hoo hoo hoo hoo–” they started laughing. Cracking up. But did not look at the menu. Chunky boy started to unzip his fly, “I’ll show you something chunky, lady–”

Rhea pulled out her badge and slammed it against the windshield for all to see.

That really cracked them up. They laughed. Giggled. Guffawed. Higher than a kite. Rhea glanced up and saw the white boy looking at her, cooler than cool. He hesitated then came over. Shit. Rhea slipped her badge back into her pocket – she didn’t want the white boy to know she was a cop – just in case… As she straightened up, the stoners stepped on it and drove away.

“You OK?” White boy asked her, surprising her with his concern. A nice boy, huh, she thought. This was new. It turned her off a little but they were alone in the parking lot now and he was two, maybe three feet from her. Up close, he was beautiful. She could smell his skin. Irresistible. She was about to make her offer when the speaker squawked.

“Welcometotommy’swhatchoowant?” startling them.

“Jesus!” She laughed. She was nervous all of a sudden. Excited. She spoke back, “Double order of chili fries.” she turned to white boy, “You want anything? It’s on me.”

“Umm.” he said. “Just some regular fries. Thanks.”

She added an order of fries then told him, “You should get into my car. I’ll pull up to the window.” He did. Then she did. As they waited for their order, she kept looking at his forearms. They were lightly golden, kissed by the sun, well defined. And young. She wanted them holding her legs open as she swallowed a hunk of chili fries as he buried his head in her.

“You’re kind of wet.” he mentioned, looking at her hair.

“I just went swimming.”

“Nice.”

“You want to go?”

“Swimming?”

“Yeah.”

“Now?”

“After we eat. Yeah.”

“Naw.” he said. “Thanks anyway.”

He must’ve seen her badge, she thought. “I’m not gonna bust you.” she let him know.

“What?”

“I’m not vice.”

“Ah…OK.”

“So–you want to go?”

“Naw. I’m working.”

“I know. I’ll pay you.”

“For what?”

Well he was a coy one, she thought. Or maybe he was shy – new at this. Even better. It gave her a feeling of power, control. She was gonna like this. Maybe even love it.

Their order was ready. She paid then rather than pull into a parking spot and let him out, she pulled out and onto the boulevard.

“Where you going?” He asked.

At a red light she stopped and leaned over and whispered. “After we go swimming, I’m gonna eat these off of you.”

He backed away. She smiled, “It’ll be good.”

“You think I’m a whore?” he asked.

She was thrown a bit, she didn’t know what to say.

“Lady, I was killing time at Tommy’s waiting for the all-night lab on Vine to process some film I need to pick up.” He checked his watch, “It should be ready in, like, twenty minutes.”

Rhea looked straight at the road as she drove. She couldn’t look at him. She was embarrassed. And mad. He felt bad for her. He looked her over, deciding she was kind of cute.

Her left hand was on the steering wheel; her right hand was on her thigh. He reached over and took her hand.

She freaked. “What’re you doing?”

“Holding your hand.”

She pulled it away. Affection sooo wasn’t her thing.

They were stopped at a red light. She reached across him and opened his door, pointing up the street, “Vine’s half a block up–”

“Ok then. I’ll see you around.” He got out and hurried across the street, never looking back.

As she waited for the light to turn green, Rhea tore open her bag of chili cheese fries and started eating.

Night Flight

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After twenty-year-old Travis Del Rio got out of Rhea’s car he hurried across Vine to an alley a half-block up from Fountain. Three doors down, he pushed a button next to a steel door with a camera above it. Someone buzzed him in.

Inside the cavernous photo studio and lab, Travis went to the counter. A woman looked up. “Ah.” She said, “It’s ready.” She handed him a round tin film container about three inches in diameter. “Uncut.”

“Thanks Jess.” He told her, then left.

Back outside, on Vine, he looked around at the light traffic. He popped the tin into his pocket. When there were no cars on the block in either direction, he leapt straight up and disappeared into the night sky.

Travis loved flying at night. The skies, even over LA, weren’t very crowded between four and five. It just wasn’t an all-night town. New York was; Vegas was, Paris was but LA was a company town and that company was the film business and people had to be on set usually by five or six am. There were only a few flying about now, getting from one place to another or just digging the swoon through night air. There were a few birds and bugs out too, some of them he knew. Two night owls, Chloe and Drew, were perched on the HBO cable stretched above the little houses on Vista del Mar, looking for rats. But for the most part, he felt harmoniously alone. It was basically a forty second flight from Vine and Fountain to his boss’s house but Travis zipped on over to the Gelson’s on Franklin and Bronson. The upscale supermarket was open twenty-four hours. It also housed Victor Bene’s pastry shop. Travis bought a slice of Princess Cake, a blond brownie and an individual kiwi tart. To go.

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