By J Brown (copyrighted 1999)

It was chaotic. Amidst the narrow street were vendors selling yo-yo’s, patches, clothes, fish, spiders, food and other souvenirs. We sat under a low hanging ceiling and were kept cool by the white adobe wall behind us. Schefelera plants hung, their green branches hanging heavily above the tables. The action was still fervent even though we had left it for the recluse of the restaurant.

"You been to Mexico before?" I asked.

The German, who was eating chips shook his head with chips in his mouth. "Is good?"

"Yes, it’s a lot like this," I said and pointed out on the chaos of American capitalism.

"Very good," the other German said, just for practice. They were both a long way from home and they couldn’t have expected Los Angeles to look this. The waitress squeezed past tables that had grown together and greeted us.

"Tres margaritas, y podemos tener mas chips?" I asked her.

"Claro," she said and called for the busboy to bring us more chips.

"You speak Spanish?" Hans asked. He was tall, and looked like he was one of the Aryan youth. George, as he liked to be called, was doodling on a napkin. He was always drawing.

"Enough," I told the Aryan. "I learned in school like you learned English and I was able to practice when I worked in a restaurant."

"You work here?"

"No, no," I dismissed, "it was another restaurant."

"Is good job?" Hans asked. He was eating the chips like he hadn’t eaten in days.

There was a hostess looking at me. Her black hair shined in the filtered sun light and her skin was smooth and olive-coloured. I smiled back at her.

"Is good job?" he repeated.

"Hans, hold on, I’ll be right back." I stood up, and as I did George looked up for a moment from his doodles.

"Hi."

"Hello," she said. English was her second language I could tell.

"Como se llama?"

"Deidra, y tu?" she asked. She was happy I knew her language.

"James," I told her, and put my hand out.

We shook hands. Her brown eyes were friendly and young. She smiled again.

"How old are you?"

"Diez y nueve," she said, though I knew she could say ‘nineteen."

"I’m twenty-five." Our margaritas had arrived but I was letting mine sit there. "Tiene un hombre?"

"Si," she said, "I’m engaged."

"Wow, congratulations." I looked into her face again as she was pulling some menus out for a new group of people.

"Come back in a few minutes," she said, and led a family of five cool and dark dining area.

"Do you know her?" George asked me.

George and Hans looked at each other and exchanged a few words in German. All I caught was ‘frau’.

"What?" I asked them.

"You walked to her and talked to her for no reason," Hans said.

"I had a reason."

"You do?"

"Yes, she was looking at me."

The Germans laughed at that one. Hans said, "I did not know that was enough to talk to a woman."

"In America," I assured them, "you can go and talk to a woman for no reason. They expect it."

George asked, "They do?"

"Yes. Us Americans have been working very hard to make it easier for you guys."

They laughed again. "Thank you," Hans said. "I like this place very much. It is like a town in Spain." He spoke to George again in German and then said, "Malaga, I think. A beautiful, beachside town. You would like it very much."

"Yes, I would." I was looking at Deidra again. She appeared to be waiting for me. "Boys, I’ll be right back. I’m not finished talking to her for no reason."

"Where is your ring?" I asked her once we were engaged in conversation again. It was quick, fleeting talk because she might have to work at any minute.

"I am mad at him. He don’t treat me good lately."

"Why not?"

"I don’t know."

"Don’t’ put up with that. You are a beautiful gir, you can have what you want in the world."

Deidra looked down and was blushing. "Thank you James, you are very nice."

"I’m serious, it is not worth it."

Work came to her again and I sat back down. George was showing Hans his drawing a drunk and delirious Statue of Liberty. It was a good drawing.

Hans was laughing at George’s caricature but turned his attentions toward me. "Well?"
"Well what?" I drank quickly from the margarita to catch up with my new friends. I had met them in Chinatown as I was walking around looking for a place to eat. George had had a Miles Davis shirt on and I had gone over to talk with them.

"Is she your girlfriend now?" he asked. It made George titter and he covered his mouth to keep chips in.

"No," I said, watching her weave amongst the tightly placed tables.

"Why not?"

"It takes time," I told them.

"And alcohol."

"And money," Hans said.

"You boys learn fast."

"Melrose Place," George said.

"Shit," I said and shook my head. American television made it all too clear what American women could get for their bodies.

"And Beverly Hills 90210," George added. The Germans were laughing again.

"Tres mas por favor," I told the waitress when she came by.

"Look, your girl is back."

I looked over and there she was, standing in the yellow afternoon light. She looked like an angel, showered golden. It made her young and innocent face illuminated heavenly. No wonder she was engaged so young. If she was my girl, I was thinking, I would want her to be mine too. She had so much to expierence still. Nineteen years old, Jesus, I thought as I walked over to her.

"Hi, I’m James."

She smiled. "Yes, I know."

"What do you dream of?"

Deidra looked off into the wild afternoon of shoppers, kids and vendors. There were sounds and colors flashing through the small street. "Happiness," she said.

"It should not be that hard if that is your dream."

She smiled again. "Why are you so nice?"

"I don’t know, it’s natural I guess."

Another group of people came and work whisked her away.

The Germans were beginning their second margaritas when I sat down at the table.

"Please, tell us what is going on over there."

"Nothing, we’re just talking."

"Yeah, right," Hans said. It surprised me; I didn’t think his English was that good.

"What are German women like?"

"They are beautiful," Hans said, "but there is only one kind. Here in America, you have many types of pretty girls, there are many kinds."

"Yes," Hans agreed. "Nice women are nice and bitches are bitches."

"Yes, good point," I said. "In America, girls learn more from television thatn they do from real women. They don’t look up to mothers and older sisters anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because it’s not glorious enough." I drank. "No, glorious is not the right word, but there are many rich and famous people in America and those are the women they try and be. They wear too much makeup too young and disrespect their elders."

"Is that only the women?" George asked. "I think the young people do not respect until they are not young anymore."

Deidra was back and this time she came over to see us.

The Germans looked away into the golden and crowded street when she spoke.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Can I get a ride home from you when you leave?" Her face was impatient to the answer of her request.

"Of course," I replied. I didn’t’ even know where she lived.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" She bounced up and down as she hugged my arm. "My fiance is a jerk," she mumbled but heard it loud and clear.

Deidra left to change so she could have a drink with us.

"She is your girlfriend now James, eh?" Hans asked.

George looked up from his masterpiece. "Can you ask if she has good-looking friends?"

"Guys, come on, we’re just going to give her a ride."

"I believe you," George said. He said something in German to Hans they chuckled into their margaritas.

"Hans,what did he say to you?"

"Nothing," Hans replied.

"Hans."

Hans looked up, trying to keep a straight face and then said, "No, no George, you tell him."

"George."

"I said we could get you drunk and give her a ride ourselves."

This made Hans laugh again.

"You boys don’t even have a license," I reminded them.

"Or a car," Hans said.

"I told you, no car, no girls. That is Los Angeles."

"Yes." And the two Germans gave each other an awkward looking high five across the table. "Here she comes," George said, and looked back down at the chips and margaritas.

Deidra sat down at the head of the table and looked relaxed and beautiful in the cool light.

"Salud," she said to us, her glass raised in celebration.

"Cheers."

"Prost."

"Prost."

The Germans were shy at first but they warmed up to her. She was interested in Germany, and why they were here. Deidra laughed and listened amused as Hans recounted the story of getting shoved into a Chinese restaurant. His face was enlivened as he told her how I sat down with them.

"He said, ‘you are going to get ripped off in here’. Did I say the phrase correctly?"

I nodded.

"Yes, and so he helped us order and we got a fair price. Good food also, eh George?"

"Yes, very good food."

Deidra listened, her head leaning down to drink from her glass. The eyes shot back and forth to me and Hans and George. I could see it was a whole new world for her, at her own restaurant nonetheless.

After the drink, she suggested we go to one more place down the street before heading home.

"Where do you live?" I asked halfway through my Corona. The new place was nice but was not as comfortable as before. Hans and George were having their first tequila sunrises. It appeared they like them quite a bit. They were speaking in German to each other. It was a way of giving Deidra and I some semblance of privacy. It was quick and intense, but we talked.

"What do you dream of?"

"The beach at sunset, and bottles of wine eating fish and vegetables, with live music illuminated by tiki torches. And a beautiful Latina woman of course," I added.

"That is a nice dream," she said. "It is possible too and it will happen for you."

"You think?" I asked. I could picture it, that was for sure. It was too dark to see if the Latina in the dream was Deidra or not.

"I love the beach," she was saying, pulling on her hair, playing with it. "It reminds me of being a little girl in San Diego running on the beach and chasing the waves." She looked through me and then drank to cool the moment.

I was about to ask her if she wanted to go to the beach when the Germans switched back to English.

"James, I am hungry, are you hungry?"

I was but thought it might be rude of us. I asked Deidra how long before she needed to be home.

"Soon," she said. "There is some food at my house," I’ll be happy to make a plate or two for you guys."

I asked Hans and he was satisfied with that.

"Wow," he said to George as we walking outside, "think of all the things that have happened today. I am happy we left Santa Monica for awhile."

With Deidra sitting shotgun the four of us roared up to Sunset and headed east. The street was alive, with lights and people and bars and restaurants. We made a right on Fountain and then into a residential area near a school.

Opening the car door, I heard a party. It was coming from around the corner. It became louder and brighter as w got closer and soon we walked right into it. There were Mexicans having a fiesta. Two barbecues were firing and they were covered with meats and vegetables. Against the back wall was a spread with chips and salsas and guacamole. Music blared from the patio window and people were everywhere, eating dancing, sitting, and drinking as metal tubs sat filled with ice and beer.

"Welcome," Deidra said and spent the next half hour introducing us to her parents, and brothers and cousins. They were all friendly and there was an amusement in their eyes. It was surprise at seeing a white guy and a couple of Europeans walking on their turf. Still though, they were friendly and offered drinks and food.

"It’s carne asada," Deidra told him and giggled. She had never taught anybody anything before.

"And zees?" George asked.

"That’s guacamole," I answered for her and proceded to dip a chip in and eat it. "It’s made with avocados."

Deidra was impressed. "Not bad, not bad," she said, drinking from her Corona. The energy was festive. People against the back wall were covered by an awning andthey danced and drank. Their clothes were all the same. Lots of black pants, and bandanas and Raiders’ hats. The older women wore flowery prints and too much perfume. Deidra left us from time to time to mingle and remind everyone she was there. She looked comfortable there, in the backyard party. It looked like home to her.

"Do you have parties like this?" Hans asked me. He was licking his fingers from hot wings. His face was shadowed by the Asian style lanterns that hung above the party. It was nice lighting.

"No hardly ever," I said. "This is a Mexican fiesta," I explained and they nodded. They are traveling now, I thought. Each minutes is a learning experience for them.

Deidra returned with a new beer for me.

"Where’s your fiance?"

"Him? He doesn’t like my family," she said. Her hair was golden black in the light and the alcohol had loosened her tongue.

"Why not?"

"He just likes to sit home and smoke pot. I don’t even know why I’m with him," she said and looked towards the music. A drunk Mexican fell while dancing with his woman and the people around him laughed and pointed and laughed again. Older women in sat in their small groups talking in Spanglish about their grandkids and why think is in gangs and who’s doing well. Men manned the barbecue, arguing how much longer to cook the carne asada while a string of children scurried in and out of the small groups. They were chasing each other and a cat sat on one of the steps licking its paws.

People floated in and out of our small circle. Hans and George were drunk and eating the loose hanging meat with their hands. Hans was holding the flank of meat and it dangled off his plate. A dog stood underneath him slurping up the juices and looking up at the German expectantly. The dog, who Deidra told me was named Gabacho, enjoyed these parties. He was a fat dog, with a brown coat and white and black splotches on his nose and on his underneath.

"Gabacho! Vaya a la barbecue!" she scolded the dog. He slowly turned and walked away.

"Are you having fun?" she asked me.

"Definitely. Hans, will you grab me another beer? This is a great party, do you have these all the time?"

"Every Saturday. They are here only once a month but there is always a party."

"Thank you Hans," I said and pulled out my bottled opener. It was a good beer, and it cooled my tongue which was scalded from one of the salsas.

Deidra’s mother came over. She was large woman with lots of black hair and thin gray wisps sprouting from her headband. She had an apron with a woman in a dirty kitchen and a phrase from her mouth: Mi cocina es siempre sucia. Mrs. Gallegos was a nice happy woman. She didn’t understand American life but loved throwing parties. Deidra and her mother were very close it appeared; they were half hugging the whole time she talked to us.

"How do you know Deidra?" her mother asked us.

Deidra answered quickly, "I met James at school, mama. The other two are from Germany and are friend’s of James."

"From Germany?" Mrs. Gallegos squealed. "Oh, how wonderful. It’s nice to meet you. I must introduce you to some of my friends. Come, come," she said and dragged Hans and George deep into a circle of old colorful women. George looked back once.

"Why did you lie?"

"What?" Deidra grabbed my beer and took a drink watching me.

"To your mom, you told her you knew from school."

"It’s because of Ricardo."

"Who’s –"

"My fiance," she reminded me.

I looked over and the two Germans were engage in a small factory line of shaking hands and nodding heads. I smiled. I knew they would remember this forever.

"James."

"Yes."

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Is that a good idea?"

She grabbed my hand an led me from the party, down a long dark driveway that was along the house. We walked along the street and sat at the curb next to a large tree.

"I don’t know what to do," she began, drinking from her new beer. We sat close and I could feel her leg grazing mine as it swayed left and right.

"Do about what?"

"My life. Ricardo wants me to have a baby but I’m not ready."

"Why don’t you tell him you’re not ready?"

She laughed ruefully. "You don’t know Ricardo."

"And I don’t want to, either."

We clinked beers. Lights from the party could be seen almost a block away. It was a soft white glow as if a small spaceship had landed in the backyard.

"James, what should I do?"

"I don’t know, Deidra, I don’t really know you that well. But you are young, have your life first, then you can have a life with somebody."

Deidra finished her beer, her eyes were glazed over and there was revolution in her eyes.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" she asked.

"What?"

"Not for sex, just someone else to be with for a night."

I tried to act relieved that she didn’t want me for sex. "I guess," I said noncomittally.

"It’s all right if you don’t want to."

"Is it a good idea?"

"You tell me," she replied and she put her hand on my leg. My body volted.

"I think it’s a great idea," I said and we laughed. She leaned close while she was laughing. We kissed on the curbe under the blanket of an old tree that had seen everything.

"Come on, we better go back," she said, helping me up.

The walk back to the white glow was quiet. Nothing moved on the street except us. We held hands strong and proud. And drunk.

Hans and George were dancing with two younger women when we returned. They had beers in hand and had the biggest grins I’d ever seen. Young Mexican men sat around the dance area in fold us chairs and bandanas drinking and smiling. The Germans were a big hit.

It was a good hour before Ricardo showed up. I could tell it was him when he walked up. He had the eye of a man who was looking for someone, not something. Luckily, Deidra and I had been in separate circles, but I watched as he walked towards her. Her smile dropped and Deirdra’s body became rigid as he appeared. Mrs. Gallegos cut him off to offer him a beer and welcome him to her home. She had no idea the tension that man brought to the party.

Ricardo was tall for a Mexican and built well. He was wearing a tank top and he had black tattoos up and down his arms. The dark pants hung low on his waist and he had a vato waddle. The moustache was thick and I wondered how old he was.

Their hug was like a stepfather-daughter hug and I tried to imagine how these two got hooked up. Then I remembered how I met Hans and George. It was that simple sometimes. She began leading him around the party introducing him to people. He stood while she made him a plate, and then got him another beer. They were slowly making their way towards us. I drank heavily to prepare. The two Germans had no idea what was going on. Hans was still eating chips and salsa and George was drunk. He was talking to Hans in German about something but he kept laughing before he could finish. He was bent over laughing when I met Ricardo. He had sloe dark eyes and he seemed not to care of my existence at all. I assured him in my eyes that the feeling was mutual. Deidra lied again and this time included the Germans in the school lie. He didn’t appear interested at all and then told her he was going to eat over by the music. He waddled away towards his homies who got up to shake his hand and give him signals.

"Well, that’s him," she said. He looked over at us once and went back tohis food. "What did you think?"

"Do you still want to go hang tonight?"

"Yes," Deidra, said, "why wouldn’t I?"

I glanced to my left.

"Oh screw him," she said. "He’s two hours late and is already drunk. He’s got a surprise coming to him soon.""

I let that comment go and finished my beer. I decided I should stop drinking. Deidra led me inside the house to get some water.

"Is this a good idea?"

"Yes, of course."

"But isn’t he going to know you’re gone?" I wasn’t normally in the business of taking other men’s women but it didn’t matter to me at that moment.

"He already knows."

My heart stopped. "Know what?"

"That I’m crashing at a friend’s place tonight."

"He does?"

"Yes, but he doesn’t know it’s you." She gave me a kiss quickly and separated. I looked around as if I was getting ready to steal a famous jewel.

"When should we go?"

"Soon," she said and walked back into the party. He was watching us. I felt sick to my stomach and wanted to go out to my car.

"I need to go to my car," I said.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because," but I left there.

Hans and George stood near the food table along the side. We walked through the heaving crowd of peoples to them.

"Ah, James, the food is great!" Hans said.

"Yes, very good food."

"I’m glad you like it," she said.

In the light I looked at her. She was a young woman who had grown up today. I had met her while she was teetering on a fence of life and I pushed her in one direction. There was no turning back now and I only hoped that Ricardo couldn’t climb that fence.

"We are leaving soon," I told them.

"Where are you going?" Hans asked.

I looked at Deidra. "We’re going to have some pie at a restaurant my friend works at."

I decided that was a good lie and nodded my head.

George, drunk and still hungry said that he would like to go and Hans wanted to be part of the group.

Deidra told me she needed to say bye to a few people and so we were to meet her at the car in five minutes.

"What is going on?" Hans asked. He walked backwards ahead of us, bouncing like a little kid.

"I don’t know?"

"Are we going to have pie?"

"Yes." I was looking up and down the dark street for other signs of life.

"Pie is like cake, yes," George asked.

"Yes. Now look," I told them once we were at the car. "This is new to me also. I only met this girl today too. I don’t know what is going on but she’s coming with us. I would like to get some pie with you guys but we will probably take you the hostel after that."

"Okay," a German said. "This is a good day."

I laughed into the locked door window. "What makes a good day, Hans?"

"When you don’t remember how it started but like where you are now."

I unlocked their doors from the inside and started the car. "I still remember how today started," I said.

"There is a lot of day left for you I think," Hans said and then squealed, "Ooh, I love this song!"

It was Britney Spears. "Really, you like this crap?"

Hans would not be deterred. "Yes, Brit-aney is very pretty woman."

"Yes," George added.

"But she is only like sixteen years old."

"So?"

"So?" I repeated. "You’ll go to jail for that."

"Not in Germany. The age is sixteen in Germany."

"You’re kidding!" I pulled the car around and waited two houses past Deidra’s.

"No, the age is sixteen. So now can I like Brit-aney Spears?"

"Sure," I replied, half-paying attention. I was on the lookout for her. She came over to the car a couple of minutes later with a bag in her hands. "Go, go," she said and looked back until we had turned the corner.

"Is everything all right?" I asked, merging into traffic on Sunset Boulevard.

"It is now." She touched my leg with her hand and said hi to Hans and George. She was acting as if it were the first time we were seeing her for the day.

"Thank you for the party," George said. "It is my first time being drunk in America."

"Really?"

"Yes, me too," Hans said.

"You guys look like professionals," she said, smiling at them both.

Deidra took us to a small diner off the strip. The service was good but the food was bad. Her friend it turned out used to work at the restaurant Deidra worked at but took this job because she would be a waitress instead of a hostess. She was older than Deidra, closer to my age and in conversation she mentioned she had a three year old son. When the pieces of pie came, she brought coffee also. The diner was old and poorly lit. We were seated in the corner over looking a side street and we had privacy. Juanita sat with us for awhile and admired that we had two real Germans with us. She never asked Deidra about me, at least not in a language I could understand. Juanita smiled periodically at me but I tried to stick close to Hans and George. They were poking at the pie and told them what each one was. There was chocolate, cheesecake, carrot cake and lemon meringue.

"I like the yellow," Hans said. "Is like jelly."

"But the chocolate in the coffee is good too," I reminded them.

"Juanita is pretty too," one of them said. The girls didn’t hear that one. They were firing off in Spanish and laughing. Deidra looked happy, and there was always a smile on her face and I really liked myself when she smiled at me.

After we were done and had all plenty of coffee Deidra suggested we had better go. The diner was closing and it was getting late.

Juanita huggd me and whispered something in my ear. "It sounded like ‘have fun but be careful with her’. She wouldn’t repeat it again and we left the restaurant.

Back on Sunset, George pointed out their hostel. It loomed high into the purple night overlookign some of the dirtiest parts of the city. But it was Hollywood. We got out to say good-byes.

"We should meet again," I told them. Deidra was hugging each one.

"Yes, please," Hans said. "How about Wednesday?"

"Sure, here’s my number."

"Where are you going now?" George asked.

"I don’t know exactly, probably nowhere fun," I said and she looked at me.

I gave the Germans my number and as I got back into the car, Hans came up again to the car.

"James."

"Yeah?" I was putting on my seatbelt.

"Thank you for today, it has been great time."

"On Wednesday," I reminded him, waving as we drove off.

"Nowhere fun?" Deidra teased me as we headed west on Sunset Boulevard.

"Well, I figured I get one lie too. Now we’re even."

Deidra wanted to respond but there was nothing to say. She sat, facing forward watching the lights come and go. It was a bright city.

"Is this all right for you? Are you going to get into trouble?"

"It’s okay. I’m glad, he was already drunk. It was easy to get away," she said, looking for a good radio station.

"Me too."

We drove and it was new. She was new, I wasn’t even sure who she was but she was beautiful and she was mine for now.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"About what?"

"Nevermind."

"No, James, about what?"

"Have you ever done this before?"

Then she slapped me. "No, what do you think I’m a whore?"

"No, shit, no, not at all." I felt my face. "I was only curious if you’d done this before, that’s all." I took a deep breath and muttered, "shit."

"No," she said quietly. She looked out her window and apologized. "It feels weird right now but I know it’s the right thing to do. Ricardo’s been in my life too long and for the wrong reasons. He probably has girlfriends, anyways, it wouldn’t surprise me." Deidra rolled her window and stuck her upper body out into the Hollywood night. Her black hair streamed behind her as she yelled an obscenity to Ricardo. She sat back in her seat breathing hard.

"Was that good for you?"
"Yes," she said, "it was. Did you have fun tonight?"

"I did, it was a great party, good food, plenty of beer. That is a good party."

"Why did you want to go to your car earlier?" she asked.

"Get me something from my glove compartment, will you? There’s something I want you to see." I leaned over and opened it for her.

She took the gun out, holding it like a newborn baby. "What’s this for?" she asked.

Without taking my eyes from the road I said, "Let’s just say that I’ve known a few drunk vatos in my day."

She held it for a moment and then Deidra laid the gun back in the dark glove compartment. We were silent after that and the stars and lights of Los Angeles flashed above us crossing town.