"Okay," she half-yelled. "Thirty-fifteen." She tossed the hairy green ball into the air and arched high with her racked, sending it to his side of the court. He moved in, waited for the bounce to be waist high and swung. It wasn’t hard or fast but landed on her side of the court where her backhand bounced past him for the point.

"Nice shot." He enjoyed losing to Alisa. She was trying so hard, and was actually a better tennis player than him, thought with some concentration and luck, he could beat her. If he wanted to.

"Forty-fifteen," Alisa said from across the net. Her serve was long and he called it.

"All right, let’s see that second serve of yours," he said. He smiled and was swaying back and fort slightly, holding his racket with both hands in front of him. Alisa lofted it into hi send where he sent it back. There was a soccer match between a bunch of yelling Europeans beyond the tall chain-link fence and Shawn thought how cool it would be to sit and drink, watching those guys play a game they could play anywhere on earth. All they needed was a ball. Headed right for hi, he made an awkward off-balance move in attempts to keep the short rally going but missed it. Their match was over. Alisa’s smile and sweat covered her face. She had on one of those tennis skirts that were as dreamy as her legs.

"Good match," she said officially, smiling and giving him those fiery green eyes that had somehow gotten them to this point.

"It was my pleasure. You’re pretty good, for a girl," Shawn added, just to get a rise.

"Hey! I kicked your butt fair and square," she replied, as she bent over to pick up a stray tennis ball by the net. They walked to one side of thenet and met there, where they shared a drink and sat on the small forest green bench that accompanied their court. Her black hair was shiny and white in the California winter sun. It was afternoon and soon would be night. There was no evening in winter.

Shawn sat sprawled out on the bench, squinting towards the game that was still going on. He wondered what they were yelling at each other. Probably they same thing they yell in ever language, he thought.

"You hungry?" She wiped her face with a bright white towel and waited for his response.

"Sure."

"You want to barbecue at my place?" she asked.

"Definitely. Whaddya think? You like fish?"

"Shark," Alisa replied, now gathering some of her things into the bag she had brought. She took back her other racket from Shawn and said, "And corn on the cob."

"Ok, winner chooses, as we said. You ready?"

"Yeah, let’s get out of here."

And they did.

"Still a little sweaty, which chilled in the breeze, they got to her car and drove off. This was her part of town and he was uiet as they drove and stopped at signs and lights. The houses were older, more rigid-looking, and the colors more vivid. The city was more planned and plain on the westside. Hollywood is a dump," he thought. It’s something you never know until you’ve been there.

They passed markets and sewing and record stores, and gas stations, and bars and restaurants, and pedestrians, and homeless next to over-filled trash cans. Shawn grinned when they passed Seven-Eleven because no matter where you were, it would always be the same.

"What’cha thinking about over there?" Alisa asked, staring straight ahead to the darkening road. The green lights were brighter and reds more ominous.

"Seven-Eleven," he answered, watching her drive through the long yellow light and the first second of a red.

"Yeah? You need to get something there?" They were on their third date and were still considerate to each other. The first date they had eaten Mexican food and drank margaritas, listened to some live jazz and had had a great time. The second date was a quick lunch on her lunch break. Tortilla wraps, the beautiful autumn midday and casual conversation outside and under a red and white petalled umbrella; it was good but not necessarily progressive. On the way back to her office that day he asked her jokingly. "So what number date until I let you kiss me without looking easy?" Alisa had laughed and responded that it would probably be three or four dates, and then looked at Shawn to see his reaction. He was pleased. She was attractive and the eyes commanded attention, his attention and whatever attention he could afford. The Seven-Eleven was far behind them now; they were on Sunset before he had responded.

"Uh no, I was just thinking about it," he said slowly, his brain in near overload from the twisted and evolved culture of downtown Hollywood. The homeless were new but were the same as thirty years ago; they had neglected some part of their lives that became their Achilles Tendon. Shawn saw the down and out, and then a black Mercedes passed them and made a quick left into nicer and untouchable parts of town. Both were of the same species, he thought, but one had better genes, or financial backing, or just plain luck. Shawn grimaced out onto the purple night and thought that it could be something as simple as luck that separated those two class of people. And here they were, Shawn and Alisa, somewhere in them in the middle.

They pulled into a large, well-lit supermarket parking lot and found a spot. When they entered the even brighter interior, it was frenzied and overrun by Latinos buying large quantities of food fiestas that would rage into the cool red and green night. Shawn grabbed a basket; first was shark.

"No," she responded when he asked if she had ever had shark tacos. Alisa was hoping to barbecue some large fillets but growing up with three sisters had taught her compromise. "They’re good, huh?" she asked, giving him a chance to sell her on it.

"They’re awesome, Alisa! You’re gonna love them," he exclaimed, making wild hand gestures to close the deal. They bought some tortillas, salsa, chips, and corn on the cob. Alisa decided on Pacifico Cervezas. It was all they needed to bring the world to its knees. AS they stood in line waiting amidst loud Spanish chit-chatter, he asked her about guacamole. A minute later, Shawn found himself weaving in and out of large carts and groups of people standing in front of five-pound bags of pinto bags. He returned with three avocados and proceeded to juggle them, tongue out and all, as Alisa stood silent, not sure what to think. It was their third date.

Back at her quiet apartment, one street south of the hub bub of Melrose, she opened the blinds that expose the large bay window, allowing lamppost light to poke through the dark room. Small children were in the street and cars were parked, jammed as if train cars. Alisa turned on alight, pointed to the back door and told Shawn where the barbecue was and said something about going to the restroom.

Shawn taking it in. Alisa lived with her sister, a young cute girl who was learning quite a bit for a nineteen-year old. The place was decorated simply, with a black entertainment center, black coffee table where a few different shaped vanilla candles sprouted. They looked cool and old. The couch was a hand me down but went well with the room. To the left of the couch was the kitchen, average-sized for a Hollywood apartment. The refrigerator was yellowing, and there was no garbage disposal. The room however, was still charming because it had all those little female additions, including magnetic poetry, and a wire basket that cupped onions on one level, and apples on another. It was subtle and set up that way. He saw the barbecue.

Shawn opened the screen door and it led into a large landscaped square where all of the other apartments opened up. It was quiet and dark out there, but the bushes where sharp and shaved clean. The barbecue was a shin-high white barbecue, the kind you would use when tail-gating at a football game. He heard her walk on the small porch behind just as he realized they’d forgotten charcoal.

"Here, you’re probably gonna need these," she said coyly, handing the bag of black briquettes reserving any laughter until Shawn got the barbecue lit. he wished he’d paid better attention when he was younger on those endless summer days of his youth, his dad bent over at the barbecue, beer in one hand and lighter fluid in the other. Shawn went inside briefly and got some newspaper from last week’s pile. It was collected in a brown wicker basket near the phone. Back outside, he crumpled up what he hoped would serve as kindling and then doused the black charcoals with lighter fluid. Shawn stood back and was glad too as the initial flame reached a couple of feet into the air. He stood out there for amoment, where it was cool and purple and warm and orange, all on a five by five foot porch. Alisa came out with two Pacifico’s; the green lime sliver peeked from the top of his.

"Thought you might need this after today." She gazed down on the orange and black and white barbecue.

"Yeah, thanks. Nothing like a cool beer after losing at tennis to a beautiful woman." He swallowed a big gulp so he wouldn’t be able to say anything after that.

"Well I don’t know about beautiful," said the twenty-six year old Latina woman, "But I definitely kicked your butt today." Alisa drank and smiled at him.

"Calmate, chica," he replied, smirking.

"All right, all right," she said, containing her laughter. And then it gave way. "I kicked your butt today," she said again, point at Shawn with her wet, dripping beer. The green eyes jumped and shined in the dark orange night. Her smile was full and vacuumed all the nearby sound until the charring orange coals crackled.

"Okay, woman," he said with the moment subsided, "go put those corns in tin foil and bring the sharks out. And get me another beer," he called to her through the window that led to the kitchen. He walked inside to help her out. "Can I put on some music?"

"Sure," she said, staring down at the yellow corn and silver foil that lay underneath them like diapers.

Shawn stood in front of the CD rack next to entertainment center. Aretha Franklin’s sweet gospel rang through the apartment a minute later and even the candles shuddered. He stood in the room for a second and was whole. He had food, shelter, music and a woman. Alisa was singing in the kitchen and just then, her orange Tabby cat, Randy as he was to find out later, walked carefully into the room and sensed the mood. He fell leisurely onto the carpet and laid out as if it was the dead of summer. Shawn went over and knelt down, petting the cat’s orange belly until it was fully stretched out, almost unnaturally so. He looked and there she was, silohuetted black with the kitchen light behind her. But the eyes were still there.

"You ready boy?"

He stood up, wiped off his hands and grabbed the plate with the sharks and the metallic torpedoes from her.

"Definitely, I’m having a really good time," he said walking out onto the small porch. She followed him out there.

"What made you say that?" Alisa asked him.

"What do you mean?" Shawn was busying himself with throwing food onto the sizzling grill.

"Shawn."

"I’m having a good time," he repeated. God, he thought, a guys’ always got to be questioned about his honesty.

Alisa wasn’t sure how to react. "Good," she said, "so am I."

They both smiled. And Randy, who was named for ornery behavior, stood at the door smelling burning fish and hidden mice.

"Don’t let Randy out, okay?" Alisa said as she pushed him aside to get back inside.

"Okay," Shawn replied and looked at the cat. Randy cursed, though it appeared as though he merely lost interest and sauntered away from the door.

Alisa manned the barbecue while Shawn made some guacamole. He tried it a few times until he got it just right and she laughed at him from through the window. He put his fingers to his mouth and kissed them in a gesture of magnifique. He watched Alisa roll the corn over and saw the black criss-cross on the white shark. He smelled it and stood watching from the small kitchen window. Randy jumped up on the table but Shawn pushed him down.

They ate sitting on the floor. It was warm inside and Randy’s orange and white coat branded shaky shadows onto the wall from the candles around them. They listened to Cal Tjader and everything was so mellow. Alisa suggest a tequila shot but Shawn wanted to wait until they were done eating. She poured two shots and they stood at attention on the same table the cat had been sitting on earlier. Shawn looked around but Randy was nowhere to be seen. He’s probably fantasizing about clumsy humans and fallen fish. The tacos were delicious and Alisa was impressed by Shawn’s ‘gringo guacamole’, as she called it.

"What can I say?" he said. He was content, but in a gluttonous way. Randy laid down next to them, acting lazy and indifferent to what he wanted most. Shawn took their plates into the kitchen and washed them. Alisa lit more candles and changed the music to the faint indescribable sounds of jazz. Incense was next, and then the tequila so by the time Shawn walked back into the living room, it was a whole new scene. "Hey baby," he said jokingly in a deep voice. She acted amused for his benefit.

"You ready for a shot?" asked Alisa. She normally was reserved when it came to tequila but she was happy and comfortable. And Shawn had been a complete gentleman so far, she reminded herself. She was curious how reacted with drunkenness and she was going to find out first hand.

"Yep, I’m ready," he said and took a deep breath. The shot was smooth for him but Alisa cursed. "What’s wrong?"

"Randy’s in the trash, hold on," she said. Shawn poured two more shots, cut some lime and asked if he could help. She returned to the dark room, wiping her hands with a towel and said, "No, I got it. Hey be careful with that stuff, it’ll getcha." He laughed and she smiled. "I’m serious," she said.

"Alisa," Shawn said, as if he was in on the joke.

"What?"

"I went to college, I know about tequila, but thanks for the warning."

She feigned anger. "Fine, just don’t be mad when I kick you out later when you have to drive."

"What?" He was completely surprised. "You’re gonna make me drive later?"

Alisa loved the position she was in. "Ah, we’ll see how everything goes. My sister’s gone for the night so maybe I can crash in her bed."

"All right," he said, saluting her with the shot as she sat down on the couch. "I’ll behave, Scout’s honor."

"Okay, okay," she said. "You can stay fro now. Here’s let’s sit up here for awhile." There they talked about colorful things, like fond memories, and dark delirious things like relationships that they’d never had an understanding of. Alisa had a relationship that dominated her history. A five-year term with a slightly older man that spawned moves, infidelity, and drug abuse. Alisa did not regret it; in fact, she was still friends with him and cared for him deeply. She told Shawn about a day when she was seven and her dad and her had gone to the Queen Mary to watch fireworks for the Fourth of July. "The colors, Shawn, they were so bright and explosive in the pitch black night, and the water gave off cool reflections. I don’t know, I guess you had to be there."

But he had. "No, I can totally picture it actually."

Alisa smiled and then Shawn told her and Randy about the day he learned the family was getting it’s first pet. "They asked me how I would like another member of the family and I screamed, ‘You’re pregnant?’ and both my parents cracked up. They said, ‘No, we’re gonna get a cat,’ and," he said, concluding the thought, "that’s the closest I ever got to having a sibling.

"That’s too funny," said Alisa, holding her beer as if it was a piece of candy.

"One more shot?" he suggested.

"Okay!" She began giggling like mad, the tequila welling up beautiful tension within her. God, what a fun time she thought.

Once poured and limes sliced, they held the shot glasses in the air and Shawn said, "To you, Alisa, for being so fun to hang out with tonight."

"And to you Shawn," she said following suit, "for doing a good job acting lie you knew how to work a barbecue."

"What?" But she was already drinking. That one went down a little more harsh and they both replied how they were done with that stuff.

"You know what?" he asked.

"What?" She licked her lips of the lime and her eyes slowly focused on him.

"I think we should go and lazy on your bed and talk."

This surprised her. "You do, do you? How come?" she asked.

He immediately began bumbling. "Uh, I don’t know, I think it would be nice to be closer and also to check out another room, and—"

"I was just kidding, Shawn," I just wanted to see you squirm a bit first." Her green eyes were on him and then they fell off the hand-me-down couch and onto the floor.

"Okay." Shawn felt his ego shrinking in her presence.

"Cool," she said finally and sat up. "Let me just get ready for bed first, all right?" Alisa disappeared for a few minutes and he sat there on the couch looking interesting anything. He heard her singing a tune from earlier in the night and Shawn decided he would clean up the small mess they had made.

"Hey Shawn," she called from down the hallway. "Have you seen Randy?"

"Who?"

"My cat, have you seen him lately?" She came from the hallway dressed in comfortable clothes, her black hair was pulled into a ponytail and the green eyes hid behind glasses. She looked like a sexy study partner.

"No, I haven’t."

Alisa proceeded to spend the next five minutes looking around the apartment and then decided they had to look outside for him.

"Randy," she sung sweetly into the night, now wearing slippers and a sweatshirt. "Randy," and then she made the quick kissing sound when talking to babies and pets. Suddenly the night was different. What had been gaining momentum and intensifying had changed tracks and it felt cold and foreign to Shawn. Still though, he was earnest in his efforts to find Randy although he had his own motivations. He thought that if they found him soon enough, the mood would not be broken and Alisa would remember they were about to go into her bedroom for a whole new installment of the night.

They separated, both calling his name and searching in the well maintained bushes and shrubs that grew all over the property. Alisa walked into the cemented garage and look while Shawn continued checking bushes. This sucks, he thought. That damn cat. Oh, I hope Randy is all right. The search continuted and eventually they did find him. There he had been, a little dirtier and his attention was peaked, looking this wat and that as he sat carelessly at the steps of her front door. Alisa got him back inside, scolded him as women scold their babies and then she saw Shawn again. He was sitting on the old couch trying to look interested in whatever was going on.

"Oh Shawn, I’m sorry about that. He gets out sometimes," she said. She hoped he wouldn’t get into one of those weird bad moods that seem to get into sometimes.

"Nah, it’s cool Alisa, I’m just glad we found him," he said and stood up, moving closer to her.

"Well did you still want to go in my room and talk more?" Alisa leaned demurely with her hands on her hips. Shawn was elated but contained. He said sure and then followed her into the small cramped room. There were no posters on the wall, just a night stand with lamp, a queen size bed, a mountain bike, and boxes and clothes. She said something about excusing the mess but Shawn was glad they bed was big enough for both of them.

Alisa flopped on her bed and Shawn plopped down. "Oh wait!" she exclaimed and got up quickly. She returned a moment later with two more shots of tequila.

"Oh I don’t know," he began.

"Come on, our little moment died looking for Randy and I thought this might help," she suggested. Against the bare white walls and her black hair her eyes were money, they were emeralds, they were.

"All right." He leaned up to take the glass from her. He grabbed the lime and watched her put some salt on her neck. He was wide-eyed.

"I learned it on a spring break in college," she said. He didn’t want to hear about that. "Here, you do it too," she said, handing him the salt shaker. "Here’s to not letting looking for things slow us down in life." Gulp times two and then two soft, gripping sucks of the neck worth writing about and she grabbed the glass from him. Her eyes watched wildly as she left the room. He wasn’t sure what to expect but, as take two, she flopped on the bed and looked at him, "So, what do you want to talk about?"

Usually Shawn was the one putting people on the spot. "I don’t know," he said, blushing.

"All right," she said, leaning on her side to face him. "What’s the craziest sexual thing you’ve ever done?" Her eyes watched his reaction but Shawn quickly regained his composure. He frantically queried his mind and smiled at a memory. In a calm, honest tone he told her an experience hadn’t really told many people, partly because they usually would knew the parties involved but he was in a new town now so it was all right. The tequila believe him, even helping him as he neared the climax of his story, putting in unnecessary details since she had opened the can of worms. Alisa listened, and her eyes widened and they were red and greasy from the tequila.

"Wow," she said when he had finished. "That’s a pretty good story, you must feel pretty good you got her to do that."

"Got her? Got her? It was of free will, baby," he said, smiling wickedly.

"Ok, get off your high horse young man," Alisa said.

"Fine," he said, smirking, "tell me your story chica."

"All right," she said and her tongue slipped out through the grin. "God," she ejected, "I can’t believe I’m gonna tell you this."

"I can" he said eagerly.

"Okay," and then she took a deep breath. Shawn leaned on his side and watched her intently. He wasn’t surprised when the setting was a certain spring break in a certain country lying directly south of them. He listened and tried to separate this girl, the one he was lying with, from the story she was telling. It was good, and he would have liked to have the memory himself but he tried to imagine Alisa, his Latina flame doing that with that guy and that Corona bottle. He would think about it the next he had a Corona.

"Wow, Alisa, let’s just say we tied for first on that one."

"Yeah," she said, "you’re probably right." They looked at each other, both realizing they had underestimated their opponents.

"Ya know," he said, "I feel exalted enough for a kiss."

She laughed and her small breasts jiggled though the white shirt. "Oh you do, do you?" she asked between laughs. Alisa couldn’t believe this guy. He always kept her guessing. "All right," Alisa said.

"All right? Right now?" he asked.

"No, no," she replied quickly, "I was just saying, ‘All right, I’m glad you feel that’."

"Oh."

"All right," she said again.

Quickly inflated again, he asked, "All right?"

"Yeah," she said.

Shawn leaned over and, as she did, they had their first kiss. It wasn’t a kiss though, because it soon extended itself into meshing bodies and salty necks sucked without the tequila. They separated after awhile, looking at each other differently and wondering the other was thought. Shawn was excited, physically and stimulated mentally. This is how life should be, he thought. Life is good.

He’s a good kisser, she thought and it made her wonder about other things he might be good at. She would save that for another night, that she already knew.

"Hmm, that was nice," he said, looking into her Christmas tree eyes.

"Yes, definitely. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m gonna sleep in my sister’s bed now."

"You are?" Shawn thought maybe that he had grazed an erogenous zone wrong.

"I’ve had an awesome time tonight, and I think we should save some things for another night." She looked into his soft, concerned eyes.

"Okay," he said. "That’s cool, you’re probably right."

"Probably?" she joked but Shawn wasn’t having it."

"Yeah, but that’s cool, I respect your decision." He didn’t know it but if he had pursued it more diligently, more doggedly like men often do, her doors may have opened. Unfortunately for him and the story, he was a gentleman and acquiesced.

She said goodnight and kissed him one final time before getting up and walking left down the dark hallway to the adjoining bedroom.

The night was devilish, drying his mouth and wrecking his mind. It was still dark when his hangover screamed for the new day. Shawn stumbled into the kitchen and saw it was a little before six in the morning. Alisa was probably sleeping her peaceful girl sleep and here Shawn was, stooped over the kitchen sink praying for any god that was awake. He gathered his things, drank one more glass of water and left. She had him guessing so he would do the same. As soon as he closed the door, eh remembered that he had wanted to leave a note for her when she awoke. He tried the door but it was self-locking. He couldn’t get back in. He had gone form being a smooth guy leaving a funny note in the morning to hide his hangover to a schmuck who left god knows when and for what reason. He felt stupid, pounded the door once half-heartedly and turned away into the darkness.