Tap the Circle to Listen and or Read THE FIRST EPISODE OF SEASON TWO IN MP3 OF "THEY CALL IT THE CITY OF ANGELS" WRITTEN AND NARRATED BY BUREAU OF ARTS AND CULTURE MAGAZINE'S JOSHUA TRILIEGI
Each Chapter is Written in a 24 Hour Period without Notes and Published SEASON TWO / EPISODE ONE / CHAPTER 23 LIGHT Louis was beginning to see the light in a whole new way. All day, things appeared different. Every object in the cafe seemed more colorful, he was seeing details and distance like never before. He stared at the chrome napkin holders, ketchup bottles, mustard containers, forks, knives, spoons and napkins as if they were sacred objects: studied their details, using his new found eye sight to take in the landscape. Why had he waited so long to get the operation ? If Junior hadn't returned, Louis may have never seen the light. He would have just slowly faded into the darkness with old age, maybe eventually seeing nothing but a clouded world of tunnel vision or worse: total blindness. It was Juniors idea to have the cataracts removed, he paid for the operation, Louis thought about all the years the boy had been ignored, all the years and months and days that nobody in the family, neither he, nor Celia or their extended family wrote a letter or visited. When Celia married Chuck, he had become the son, totally replaced Junior. Now that Junior returned, everything seemed to be changing. Louis was grateful to his son in a way that he could not describe. He seemed to care for the man in a way that was different than Celia or Chuck, he cared for the man in a direct way, not as some sort of responsibility, but because he loved him. Louis hadn't been loved since his wife died, really truly loved and cared for, he'd actually forgotten what that was like: to be loved.
The Cafe was busy, the strike in the harbor was over, trucks were moving in and out, waitresses were working double shifts, when they asked if Louis could stay on a few more hours, he agreed. He had always agreed when his employers had asked for this, asked for that: How had he become so damn compliant through the years ? As a young man, he had fire in his gut, even a sort of bravado, a keen sense of rebellion. But that was long ago and when they asked, he did as he had done for the past twenty- five - something years, he answered, "Yes". Besides all the usual conversations like, "Louis, they need water on table seven." and his reply, "I Got It" or "Clear off the corner booth honey, I got a family of five waiting' out front" and his reply, "You got it." There wasn't a whole lot of talk in his daily routine. So, whenever somebody actually took the time to stop and converse with Louis, it was often a memorable experience that he would think about after the fact, at the end of the day or some time later. As things settled down that late afternoon, Louis was clearing a table along the windowed booths. Ma Fritters was a mid century establishment with big red booths along the front window and a counter to the rear with tables strewn all across the center and sporadically along the walls. A television was mounted above the counter, though it usually was turned off, on this day, due to the recent controversial decision in a high profile legal case and the controversy surrounding the decision by an all white jury, the TV was on, the volume was turned down. The Cafe was located just between the Harbor City Hall and adjacent to the truck stop port authority, so all types of people frequented the place. Gum shoe private detectives, lawyers, bailiffs, cops, an occasional snitch, or the recently paroled, or those who were proven innocent and plenty who were proven guilty and done their time accordingly. A familiar face sitting in a booth next to the table Louis was clearing sat and watched the silent television, a now, iconic image of a man being beaten by a circle of cops played on the screen, followed by images of four men in suits walking down a long row of steps, followed by angry groups of people screaming at the camera, then shots of helicopters and angry protestors who seemed to be standing in the middle of the streets, running wild. It's a shame whats going on down there, ain't it Louis ? He was referring to the television. Louis looked up at the TV expecting to see a football, basketball or baseball game of some sort. As he glanced at the screen, the shot of a man fleeing a pawn shop with a musical instrument, a red electric bass guitar flashed across the screen, followed by a group of people, smashing the windows of a liquor store, prying open the accordion metal gates and ransacking the place. Louis never payed attention to current events and hadn't been following the case very closely, so he was surprised to see the footage of what looked to be the beginning of a full on riot. He figured it was happening in another country or city, "Wheres that ? " he asked the customer, "That's Downtown." Louis looked again. They watched a news reporter on the street, stores were going up in smoke. The sun was setting now and the color orange permeated the harbor. "Well, thats what happens when you got an abuse of power, at least thats what happens, some times." The man gestured for Louis to sit down, Louis looked around, the place was empty, so he put down his white rag and bucket and sat with the man. "I heard Junior finally got out, hows he doing ?" "Very well, he's doing good" he replied The man continued, " Its a god damn shame what happened to that boy, god damn shame." Louis noticed that the man was a little stoned, maybe drunk."That boy had everything going for him, he was handsome, smart, had a great little girlfriend, I remember that boy very well, very, very well." Louis looked at that man, really looked at him, stared at his face, his eyes, listened to the voice and something began to click, something in the man's voice was suddenly quite familiar. " It was too bad that nobody had found out about that other kids car. You remember that other boy that night ? He was a good kid too, but the law is the law, and Junior would have never done time if only someone had reported the facts." Louis couldn't entirely understand just what the man was trying to say. "Ya see, the regulation on those cars are very specific, that boy was hot rod crazy, he had all kinds of unregulated gear on that vehicle. Now, it is not illegal to have say, dual manifolds or even dual carburators, but if a car flips over due to the height of a vehicles unregulated distance from surface to passenger weight capacity and entry position than it is a fact of science and it can't be refuted. Did you know that in Juniors case the other boys car was three and a half inches higher than the regulated stock car height ? Furthermore …", The man stopped for a minute and chewed his sandwich, Louis now realized that this guy was a lawyer of some sort, but he couldn't exactly pinpoint why he seemed familiar. "Furthermore, it was noted on the legal evidence and recognized by all the officers and District Attorney's office that the boy who died drove a vehicle that was not street legal and may have had everything to do with the cause of those kids death. Why was that not brought up in the case ? Why ? You wanna know why?" Louis looked at the man and nodded, "Cause I am, well, I was once, one of the best damn prosecuting lawyers in this port and I made damn sure that that little fact was not brought to the juries attention. But that was my job, thats what I was payed to do. Juniors lawyer should have done better, Juniors lawyer took a dive, they rail roaded that kid and all they had to do was mention the deregulated vehicle inspection forms and case closed, over, done with, end of the story. Every single cop on the scene knew that kid's car was not street legal, all of 'em. If people had known, they'd be doing exactly what there doing now, out there on the streets, they'd have been rioting for your kid." Louis just looked at the man. The waitress brought over the check and refilled the man's coffee cup, Louis looked up at her but did not move from his seat, he turned back to the man. Now he realized who this man was, this was the rat bastard son of a bitch that prosecuted his only son. Threw him away, tossed him in the trashcan of life, the sewer for fifteen years. 'Cabron', he thought to himself. He stared at the man one last time, looked at his face, his cheap polyester suit, his wrinkled tie, his unshaven face, he smelled the cheap cologne, the years of unwashed bull shit that had surrounded the man's very aura and simply stood up, grabbed his rag and bucket from the table next to him, placed the plastic tray along side the edge of the man's table and cleared it entirely, except the coffee cup, in one complete gesture. The man blinked. Louis didn't say a word. He was not an important man in town, he wasn't worldly, he didn't speak the best english, he was one of millions of little men who worked hard every day of his life so that his kids and grandkids could have a better life: all of that was true. But this little man knew what trash looked like, this little man knew when the meal was over and this little man cleaned that table, wiped it down and walked away from that man's table like a professional and never once looked back. Junior had been told to get out of town and take a breather, no one expected him to leave the country. He hadn't been to The Ranch in decades & needed to see his home land. It had been his grand fathers farm back when Juniors father Louis was born there and his fathers before that and so on and so forth and on down the line. Louis had been renting it in a partnership deal that hadn't paid off in the past decade, he himself had not been to the ranch in over ten years, simply stopped visiting ever since his wife had passed away. It hurt too much to see that land. Originally, he had rented the plot to a man and his family who were simple farmers, the lease came with a dozen cows, an orchard of about 100 mango trees, a handful of goats, chickens, sheep, pigs and a couple old dogs. When Junior was a boy, every Summer from the time he was five to the time he was fifteen, he would learn things from locals. He had learned to bullfight, he had learned to dismantle a cow, he had learned to irrigate, plant and even skin a pig. Junior loved the traditions of his heritage: simply had farming in his blood and related to it deeply. At the end of each Summer, the boy would sit high atop a mountain just to the North of the property, they called it The Mesa, because it was shaped like a table top and he would cry. He did not ever want to return to America. McDonalds and Bugs Bunny and Coca Cola held no sway with his spirit. He was an Indiano Puro! He would tell his parents, "I want to stay here with grandpa, he needs my help, let me stay please, please, the boy pleaded with his parents. But returned he did, every year. It was always a painful transition. He would dress his room in blankets, ropes, artifacts he had found on the ranch or nearby. Once he had been given a sacred bowl by a local Indian that had bears carved all along the sides. He would bring mangoes, a chicken, some corn to the Indian every day and eventually, the Indian repaid him with the sacred bowl. Recently, while digging through the garage, he found a box of things that belonged to him from the Summer of 1976, the year he had been sent away. Nestled in the center of the box was the Bear medicine bowl. Also in the box was an eight track cassette player with a bunch of the family music they had once listened to: Greatest Hits of 1976, Freddie Fender, Pedro Infante, Santana, Ritmo Latino, Novenas De Amore, Recuerdos Romantico, someone in the family had even taped the skits and early films of Cantinflas. They would load up the car and drive to The Ranch every Summer until the Summer of 1976, when everything had drastically splintered their lives into nothing at all. Junior installed the eight track player into his car. Loaded up the car with pillows to sleep along the way. He hadn't said a word to anyone about the trip and suddenly realized that he didn't want to go alone. Junior packed up a few of his fathers regular items from back then, his old wooden guitar, a foldable wooden lawn chair, a hammock, his fishing poles and a big straw hat as well as the Indian Bear Bowl. Junior drove into The harbor towards his dads place of work and noticed Chucks Patrol car pulling out of the parking lot as he was pulling in. Junior simply waved his hand and parked the car right up front. Louis was staring out the window thinking about what the lawyer had said as Chuck drove off. And suddenly, Junior pulled into the driveway "Dad, I've come to take you home". "OK", Louis replied, "Are you hungry ?" "Lets get sandwiches to go." While Louis gathered his things in the back room, Junior walked up to the work schedule that was posted in the hallway and looked for Louis' name, he took out a pencil, and erased Louis' scheduled work days and scheduled in the other two busboys names Franky & Paulo sporadically during the week. When Louis finished gathering the sandwiches Junior was already in the car and the motor was running. When Louis got in, Junior said he had to go use the restroom, he reentered the Cafe, and shouted to the waitress, "Hey sweetheart, make sure someone calls Franky to remind him of the schedule changes." She looked at him kinda funny. He took out a ten dollar bill and thanked her, "Your Dad don't have to pay for those". "I know, it's for you babe.", he smiled and headed for the door, "Call Franky and Paulo, good nite." As he turned to the door she put the bill in her apron and headed towards the hallway where the schedule was posted. By the time they pulled out of the lot and up to the stop sign, he could see her pick up the phone. The eight track cassette began to play an old familiar ranchero they had often listened to while driving down South back in the old days. The song started with one of those fast mariachi style riffs with a big oomp-pa-pa base and drum line, a fast fiddle with a quick stop and suddenly the singer would howl like a Rooster at sunrise, "Aaahhhhh - Haaaaaaa - Haaaaaa - Haaaaaaaaaa" and suddenly the song would do double time into a frenzied pace. "Where the hell did you find that ?" Louis asked his son. Junior just smiled and turned the music up, he put the petal to the metal and they roared down the coastline. When they hopped on the freeway instead of the normal route home, Louis, turned down the music and asked, "Where are we going ? ", "We are going HOME dad, home, our real home, were going to The Ranch. Junior looked at the kid and laughed. "Are you f*%+ing crazy?" He shook his head in disbelief, looked back at this kid of his, this beautiful boy who had endured fifteen years of captivity and simply laughed until the laughter stopped. Then he wiped a tear from his eye, turned the music back up and said, "All right then, Vamalos." Louis was thinking hard about what that lawyer had said, he kept stealing glances at Junior and could feel nothing but regrets. He suddenly thought about work, "But what about my job, I am on the schedule all week.", Junior assured him, "I spoke to the waitress back there, she's calling those other busboys right now with a new schedule. I knew if I told you ahead of time, you would never have come with me." Louis looked at Junior and just shook his head, "Your just like your mother, you know that ?", "Yeah, I know." Junior reached into the back seat, pulled off the Indian blanket, revealing Louis' things: His hat, fishing poles, chair, clothes, sandals and together they laughed all the way to the border. One of their traditions was to stop and fill up the gas tank as well as several other tanks with the gas on this side of the border and buy water and any other items needed while traveling. Junior decided that he should make a call and let his circuit know where he was going, he used a phone booth and said he was leaving town as directed. When he told them where, he was put on alert, given directions & an assignment while he was visiting. That was exactly what he didn't want to do, just wanted to visit the ranch, see the old property. What Junior didn't know was that every thing had changed and some surprises were up ahead, if he played his cards right on this one, there would be some serious rewards, if he did not, the results could be devastating or worse. They told him that when he got to the ranch, not to be surprised by any of the changes and wear a long sleeve shirt, buttoned from top to bottom. They had been trying to put the squeeze on the people who had been partners with the family that rented the ranch, they would toss Junior and his dad a serious bone if everything went well He was also directed to be at the border exiting and reentering at a particular time and place, it was very important that he be there on that exact date and at that exact time, no matter what. They asked him if he understood and he did. Then they said he was to stop in at a particular spot with a very specific address and have his upholstery redone. When he told them that he already had leather seats in perfect condition, they told him that it was strictly business and he would be rewarded later. Junior agreed and understood what he needed to do, he listened intently as they explained in detail what was happening and what he needed to do to make sure that nobody was hurt and that they ended up with the profitable side of the exchange. By the time they hung up the phone Junior was completely sobered by the conversation. He also called his sister Celia explaining that he and dad were going fishing for a few days. When he got back into the car, Louis noticed his composure, "Is every thing all right ?", "Yeah, everything is cool. I just forgot to call Celia and let them know that we would be out of town for a few days and I wanted to make sure everything was o.k.", "Well, is it?" Louis asked again. "Yes, every thing is going to work out fine." As they drove up over the border, they both noticed how different everything was. What was once a gateway with tiny wood kiosks strewn across an invisible line in the sand was now a chrome plated machine that looked like a giant row of appliances, the border had changed and so had they. They looked at one another and drove on in. Entering in the old days meant simply driving across, now they were asking questions and asking for identification sporadically, Junior grabbed a long sleeve shirt covering his ink from top to bottom. When they got to the borderline, Louis did all the talking, he was always good with people, especially his people. Louis answered several questions and then they struck up a conversation about a particular district they both knew of with an old fishing spot. Louis waved to the man in the kiosk and suddenly they were on their way. Junior understood spanish to a certain degree, but he couldn't follow everything. "What did he say?" Louis slapped his son on the back hard, "Welcome!" The journey to the ranch is a twelve hour drive, Louis slid the seat back and slept through the last six hours. When they got into town, they went directly to the property, but passed it twice because it was so unrecognizable. There was now a giant security gate, with an intercom and an eight foot barbed wire fence around the entire front section all along the highway. Originally the property itself was about ten acres split into thirds,: one part for cattle, one part for mangoes and the other for corn, livestock and living quarters. The original house sat to the North with an adobe to the West & another to the East, just after the hilly entryway. When they rang the buzzer, a voice answered that was unfamiliar to Louis. " Is Rafael there ?", he asked in spanish. "No, are you making a delivery?" "No, I am the property owner from America, my son and I are here to visit the ranch." The gate buzzed and it slowly opened inward, they drove the car up to a check point and immediately Louis was flabbergasted by the modernity of the place. Six visible silos, water tanks on every hillside, lush rolls of mangoes, machinery that he had never seen before, a large tractor the size of his guest house back home. Louis turned to Junior, wider eyed, "Take it easy, this is your place, your the American, your part owner, don't give away your power so easily dad. Were going to take a tour, then were going to talk business, I have some friends back home who told me all about these guys, don't worry about anything at all." Louis said nothing, he just couldn't believe his eyes. "When it comes to business, you let me do the talking: yes ?" and Louis replied, "Yes, son, absolutely, yes." They drove up through the cattle section past a pack of beautiful cows, where there was once a dozen cows , there were now easily a thousand. On the hillside, grazing, were dozens of goats, in corrals, a half a dozen horses, in pens, dozens of pigs and an entire barn that had been modernized for chickens, easily a thousand. The original house was still intact and had been kept up, it looked as if the roof had been recently replaced. Louis was amazed at the entire set up, he was a very wealthy man and yet minutes ago had absolutely no idea how wealthy he actually was. By the time they got up to the main house and out of the car, several employees had come out to greet them. Rafael was no where in sight. "Welcome, a man with a cowboy hat and boots exclaimed. We've been waiting to hear from you for quite some time. How long will you be staying ?", Junior stepped in, extending his hand, he had been told to keep his shirt sleeves rolled down until the proper time. " I am Louis Junior, my father and I just came down to do some fishing and we have been so busy with our businesses in America that we have not had much time in the past few years." "What kind of business are you in there ?" the man in the cowboy hat asked, Louis replied, "Comida". "Yes, my father has his own restaurant in the harbor and my partners and I are diversifying stocks." he continued, "The economy in America is going through some interesting changes and we think that Mexico is going to be in for a big surprise with some new trade deals on the table. But, lets not talk business so early in the morning. We just got here.", "Thats exactly right, lets have breakfast and we will take you and your Padre on a tour. Later, we will call up Rafael and we can discuss many things that will be of a concern to you and your fathers property." They sat and ate one of the best breakfasts they had both had in several years. Everything they ate was made fresh on the ranch: juice, eggs, meat, tortillas, everything. Louis was simply amazed. Junior kept calm and played it cool, just the way he was directed. After all, It was this same kitchen that Junior sat with his grandfather every year. Louis and Junior took a grand tour of the property by jeep and when they returned Rafael was waiting at the main house. "Don Louis, Oh my god, it has been so long, what a wonderful surprise." The men entered the house and sat in the library, drinks were served. Rafael, the man with the hat, Louis and several other men sat in large leather chairs, several smoked cigars. Everybody imbibed except Junior. "I like your son's style, he's all business and has a great head on his shoulders.", he said in spanish. "Yes, he has learned of the worldly ways in America." Rafael started in, "So, you must be wondering about the transformation of the ranch ?" "Yes, of course.", Louis replied. "Do you remember the old indian who lived on the other side of the Mesa ?" Rafael asked. "Yes, my son was very close with him. As child, Louis Junior felt a very strong natural affinity with the locals here." He continued, "Well, one day, about ten years ago, he showed up at our door with a machete and said that he and his people needed food and that the owners of this property had always been helpful to the man and his family. He promised that if we supplied his family with food for the season, he would share many ancient secrets with us that would double and triple our fruit trees, our cattle stock and our vegetation. I had never been a real believer of such tall tales, but I felt sorry for the man and so, I gave him what he needed, when he needed it. He, in return did many things that somehow did seem to deliver his original promise and within five years we began to transform the property into what you see today. My own son went to University in Mexico City studying science, biochemistry and modern horticulture, with his help and the help of a few of his classmates family investments, we have what you see here today.", "Amazing", Louis replied." Junior chimed in, "Tell me more about the old Indian, what exactly did he do ?" "Well, this is going to sound crazy, but he and his family dug three natural water pits at the top of each hillside where the water towers now stand and then he simply danced for one week straight, I promise you, in the middle of a drought, it rained on this property for seven days straight, he then dug an irrigation canal and splintered the mango tree branches from single flowering stems to triple flowering stems, he trimmed the trees so they produced more fruit, he kept the cows away from the bulls until certain moon phases, he planted and picked on days that were specific and then just like that, he was gone, they all left, just like that." When my son Rafi came home from university, we added many of the machines with the profits from what the old indian had provided the place. We now have some very wealthy investors and contracts with three major exporters." Now, it was Juniors turn. He pulled the Bear Bowl from the inside of his bag and sat it in the middle of the table. "This was given to me by the old Indian. My friends and partners in America come from both the stock market and the streets and there is soon going to be a total transformation of the American export business in the next five years. Right now a plan is in force to bring American goods to Mexico that is going to make things very difficult for the local farmers. Junior slowly reached down, unbuttoned his left sleeve cuff and rolled up his sleeve, revealing a world of imagery that when read by the men in the room, seemed to give him the floor. He went on, "My father and I highly respect science, machinery and everything you have done with this ranch. But we have seen no profits in ten years, we know you have investment costs … ", he rolled up the right sleeve, which was equally as daunting as the left. These were not roadside tattoos, nor army or souvenir images, this was straight out, hard core prison symbology. "So, we want to make it easy for you to continue everything your doing. But we are going to need to see some serious money as well as a renewed partnership as of now. We also want you to know that, although we have no intention to do so, at any time, we can take this property with the improvements you have made and end this contract within a ninety day period as per my fathers original agreement. Junior looked out the window towards Mesa Mountain. "Funny how that old Indian just disappeared, aint it? His people had been living on that property for generations." One of the men took his cigar and ashed it into the bear bowl. Junior looked at the man from top to bottom. First he eyed the boots, they were un-scuffed, had never seen a horse or a dirt road in their lives. Then he looked at the man's hands, soft, no scars on the knuckles, he noticed that the man's shirts were pressed professionally. He knew what he wanted to do the man and instead, he lifted the bear bowl, walked into the kitchen, washed it out, walked back into the room, grabbed the handkerchief from the man's suit coat pocket, wiped the entire bowl clean, handed him back the soiled fabric and sat the bowl down in the center of the table. "Someone could make it very difficult to get trucks in and out of here if someone had decided to ever do such a thing." Junior then rolled his sleeves back down and began to describe a plan that was acceptable to both himself, his father and his partners in America. The man did not ash the cigar a second time and by eight o'clock that evening, a crisp contract was hand delivered by a hot shot lawyer arriving for Don Louis to sign then and there. In a single day the busboy had died and Don Louis had been reborn. For Junior this was only step one, he still had work to do. He hopped on a horse and rode to the top of The Mesa Mountain, there were no teardrops this time. He looked over the horizon wondering again about the Indian. Published at BUREAU of Arts and Culture Sites in: New York City, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, San Diego, Santa Barbara and The Bureau International Literary Site Friday August 1, 2014 Written by The Bureau Editor Joshua Triliegi Fine Art Paintings by new York Painter David FeBLAND with a featured Art Interview The Summer Edition BUREAUofARTSandCULTURE.com
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