for a few hair-metal bands in the eighties.”
Greg had a hard time picturing this ragged pot farmer in a corporate boardroom.
“So, why’d a marketing guy leave entertainment for agriculture?”
“Who says I left entertainment? It’s all about diversification these days.”
Greg motioned to the inside of the tent with his head.
“This isn’t exactly The Ritz, but I’m guessing you come and go when you feel like it.”
“Life’s about choices. I did my time in fancy hotels, ate at all the hip restaurants on both coasts, but I was suffocating—at and happy, like a caged animal waiting to be slaughtered. Don’t get me wrong, the money was great and there were plenty of perks. But the people? All sharks.”
“And you prefer bears.”
Magnus finally brought his gaze down to lock eyes with Greg.
“I’m always looking for the next opportunity. A man can learn a lot about himself by living out here. Speaking of which, I’ve got something to show you.”
Magnus walked over to a backpack on the ground and pulled out a piece of cloth. Greg watched as he slowly unfolded it, careful not to let it touch the ground. He was soon holding the corners of a California state flag in his outstretched hands.
“See that? It’s a grizzly bear. They used to live all over these mountains a hundred years ago. Fierce hunters. True individuals.”
“So what?”
“They were hunted to extinction. Completely wiped out. But there they are, right on the state flag. A constant lie that we perpetuate.”
“There are still plenty of black bears up here.”
“Imported from Yosemite a century ago. There’s less and less that’s native about Southern California.”
Greg smiled. Magnus was getting to the point, whatever that turned out to be.
“You and I are special, Greg. Born and raised here. Natives. Just like the grizzlies.”
“Meaning we’re almost extinct?”
“Might be unavoidable, if we don’t stop the hemorrhaging. All the transplants coming here only care about money and the weather, but they’re destroying our soul. Sure, they like their symbols. They want you to think that they’re all about individualism and freedom, but it’s not true. The minute you become a threat—BOOM—they take everything away from you.”
“So all of this is about illegal immigration?”
“To the contrary, I’ll take Mexicans, Guatemalans, Nicaraguans—anybody from south of the border—over these East Coast assholes that just keep coming like locust.”
“What’s that have to do with me and Marco? Let us go and we’ll forget this place even exists.”
“You hard of hearing from all that punk-rock crap? I’m giving you the opportunity to get in on the ground floor of something huge.”
It took Greg a moment to figure out what this whack job was driving at. A job offer was the last thing he expected. Greg tried to look like he was considering it, but his mind was only focused on getting out of there.
“Seems like you have plenty of people here who can help you out.”
“These kids? They’re strays and runaways, mostly here for the weed and sex. All they’re good for is working the fields and keeping the product moving. I need a business partner—somebody who can handle the day-to-day while I work on taking this thing to the next level.”
“Let my friend go and I’m all ears.”
Magnus stood up and lumbered over to the door. He wore a pinched expression when he turned to face Greg again, like something bored into the back of his skull.
“I’ll consider taking him out of there tonight. What happens tomorrow depends on you.”
“Can you at least untie me?”
“Not sure that’s in my best interest, but I can send one of the girls back in. That should keep your mind off of those ropes.”
Greg wasn’t up for any soulless cult sex but thought he might get some useful information out of Magnus’s harem, or at least one of them.
“Maybe just Ursula.”
“You’ll have to be more specific. They’re all called Ursula.”
The kid in the blue cap stood in the alley with a gun to Marco’s head. Giant grizzlies burst through the brick walls around them, choking the air with red dust. Greg stumbled forward, but the dirt ramp under his feet kept stretching out before him. His foot caught hold of a trip wire and he went flying through the air...
Ursula woke Greg from his bad dream with a kiss. He smelled her sweet skin, and felt her lips brushing his. He opened his eyes. She laid her head on his shoulder and caressed his cheek.
“That sounded scary. What were you dreaming about?”
“It was nothing. Just my imagination getting the best of me.”
“You were screaming about some kid in a blue hat. Who is he?”
“Nobody important.”
They spent the entire night talking, but Greg got very little information out of her. What she did share made it seem like Magnus was extremely violent and unpredictable. But maybe that’s just what Magnus told her to say.
She claimed her real name was Kristen Raines, but swore him to secrecy about it. She told him that Magnus would put her down in the pit if she responded to anything other than Ursula.
“I moved to Hollywood after high school, but things got a little out of control. Then Magnus showed up one day, about a year ago, and promised me money and weed.”
Kristen said that he’d been true to his word, but it came at a serious price. She didn’t give any specifics when he pressed her on it, except to say that a few recruits had been “sacrificed” since she arrived.
“He can be a little unpredictable, and violent.”
“Why don’t you just leave?”
“Believe me, I’ve tried. Somehow he always convinces me to stay.”
The main question she avoided all night was the one that mattered most to Greg: “Who is Magnus Ursus, really?” He knew that she might not know the answer; it was entirely possible that nobody at Grizzly Flats did.
Kristen gave his nipple a little pinch. It brought him hurtling back to the moment.
“Was the kid in the blue hat the one you shot when you were still a cop?”
There was no point
