By Lorenzo Porricelli (All Day – Speechless – Dinner)
The iced Dos Equis lager cooled Maria’s throat. She had panicked. But the chilled beer, accompanied by a Tres Generation triple, was a good road partner. Her fear was no longer a raging torrent, but a slow, trickling stream. And she could think straight.
Rats. She hadn't grabbed a lime and would have to do without dinner, but when someone is hunting you down to kill you - dinner is hardly a thought
Maria had no idea where the city bus was heading. Anywhere was fine. She had been riding it all day. It was the first thing moving after her slide down the pole and a quick stop at Circus Liquor. A pole slide was worth a crisp $100 at Jumbo. And Maria viewed everything as money made. Or lost.
It was ironic, she thought, Jumbo was named after the three-story neon clown in front of Circus Liquor. Benny Suarez, Jumbo's owner, stared for hours at the clown when he was a kid, stoned on mescal. Hell, Circus had even made the movies. Alicia Silverstone was stranded there. Clueless.
Maria swigged. Circus had more screen credits than her. But that was going to change. She primped her hair. Best that can be done. No one noticed how scantily clad she was dressed. Or maybe they did. And liked it. Maria scanned the bus for a mark or two.
Only one other lost soul, nipping at a bottle of Boones. Ugh. She looked into her iPhone and smiled. Snap. Send. The iPhone rang within seconds. The theme from “The Good, the Bad, The Ugly” bounced around the empty bus. Maria finished a mini shot bottle of tequila.
"Hi, Vitello, my sweetie pie." She put the phone on loudspeaker so her booze buddy would be entertained. No sense being selfish. Momma Rosa taught her to share.
"Maria, my sugarplum berry, where are-"
“Vitello, cut the bull."
"That picture made me hot."
"We’re all business, now, Vitello.
He coughed.
"Cough again, Vitello. I've got them both in my hand.”
"I need you to come over,"
"Really? Where?"
"My house, you know where."
"No, I don’t. The only place I have shared with you is the Sweet Life Motel."
He was speechless, but Maria heard noise. Probably his fat fingers muffling the phone.
"You remember it, honey. On Ventura Boulevard. Nothing fancy. But that classic massage bed - you adored it. "
She looked at her nails.
“I hope your ears can hear me," said a new voice. A male.
His tone was a poor attempt to sound firm. Maria laughed. If he was that weak in the mouth...
" Tell us where you are, we won't hurt you."
"How nice," said Maria, shaking her head. No, he wouldn't dare. But some pal with a shovel won't be so kind.
"You are very important to us."
She knew the voice. “Bernie DePace! The producer! My god!"
More muffling.
“Is this about the new reality show, Mr. DePace? I would love to be on it!”
“I guess you’re ready for your close-up.”
“Starring would give me lines. So many to remember. I’d probably forget anything else that clutters my mind.”
There was silence. She drained a bottle. DePace must be weighing the costs.
“And, Mr. DePace, my lovey-dovey confidant, let’s call him “Peeto” just to make it personal, even though you had no idea he existed, he would also be so happy. I am sure “Peeto” would also forget how much the two of you “borrowed” from the state - even though he has the memory of an elephant.”
“All right. Why don’t you work for me, Maria? You’d make agents wish their mothers had abstained. Or were suicidal.”
Bingo. “When that contract’s ready, let’s have dinner, darling. Bring my $50 thousand signing bonus. Cash, of course. I know you’ll be quick, my memory is already beginning to fade.”
Maria disconnected. She looked out the window. Alhambra. She shrugged. There’s a store. Not Circus Liquor, but it had to sell Dos Equis. And tequila. No more poles for this lady. Or clowns. A woman, said Mama Rosa, has to make the best of every situation.
The iced Dos Equis lager cooled Maria’s throat. She had panicked. But the chilled beer, accompanied by a Tres Generation triple, was a good road partner. Her fear was no longer a raging torrent, but a slow, trickling stream. And she could think straight.
Rats. She hadn't grabbed a lime and would have to do without dinner, but when someone is hunting you down to kill you - dinner is hardly a thought
Maria had no idea where the city bus was heading. Anywhere was fine. She had been riding it all day. It was the first thing moving after her slide down the pole and a quick stop at Circus Liquor. A pole slide was worth a crisp $100 at Jumbo. And Maria viewed everything as money made. Or lost.
It was ironic, she thought, Jumbo was named after the three-story neon clown in front of Circus Liquor. Benny Suarez, Jumbo's owner, stared for hours at the clown when he was a kid, stoned on mescal. Hell, Circus had even made the movies. Alicia Silverstone was stranded there. Clueless.
Maria swigged. Circus had more screen credits than her. But that was going to change. She primped her hair. Best that can be done. No one noticed how scantily clad she was dressed. Or maybe they did. And liked it. Maria scanned the bus for a mark or two.
Only one other lost soul, nipping at a bottle of Boones. Ugh. She looked into her iPhone and smiled. Snap. Send. The iPhone rang within seconds. The theme from “The Good, the Bad, The Ugly” bounced around the empty bus. Maria finished a mini shot bottle of tequila.
"Hi, Vitello, my sweetie pie." She put the phone on loudspeaker so her booze buddy would be entertained. No sense being selfish. Momma Rosa taught her to share.
"Maria, my sugarplum berry, where are-"
“Vitello, cut the bull."
"That picture made me hot."
"We’re all business, now, Vitello.
He coughed.
"Cough again, Vitello. I've got them both in my hand.”
"I need you to come over,"
"Really? Where?"
"My house, you know where."
"No, I don’t. The only place I have shared with you is the Sweet Life Motel."
He was speechless, but Maria heard noise. Probably his fat fingers muffling the phone.
"You remember it, honey. On Ventura Boulevard. Nothing fancy. But that classic massage bed - you adored it. "
She looked at her nails.
“I hope your ears can hear me," said a new voice. A male.
His tone was a poor attempt to sound firm. Maria laughed. If he was that weak in the mouth...
" Tell us where you are, we won't hurt you."
"How nice," said Maria, shaking her head. No, he wouldn't dare. But some pal with a shovel won't be so kind.
"You are very important to us."
She knew the voice. “Bernie DePace! The producer! My god!"
More muffling.
“Is this about the new reality show, Mr. DePace? I would love to be on it!”
“I guess you’re ready for your close-up.”
“Starring would give me lines. So many to remember. I’d probably forget anything else that clutters my mind.”
There was silence. She drained a bottle. DePace must be weighing the costs.
“And, Mr. DePace, my lovey-dovey confidant, let’s call him “Peeto” just to make it personal, even though you had no idea he existed, he would also be so happy. I am sure “Peeto” would also forget how much the two of you “borrowed” from the state - even though he has the memory of an elephant.”
“All right. Why don’t you work for me, Maria? You’d make agents wish their mothers had abstained. Or were suicidal.”
Bingo. “When that contract’s ready, let’s have dinner, darling. Bring my $50 thousand signing bonus. Cash, of course. I know you’ll be quick, my memory is already beginning to fade.”
Maria disconnected. She looked out the window. Alhambra. She shrugged. There’s a store. Not Circus Liquor, but it had to sell Dos Equis. And tequila. No more poles for this lady. Or clowns. A woman, said Mama Rosa, has to make the best of every situation.
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