house.
“Tell me you know a shortcut, ’cause this isn’t the best of neighborhoods to have something go wrong with this van of yours.”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just need to do some taping.”
“Here? What could you possibly be taping here? A drug bust? A murder? What?”
“I’m working on my MFA in film.”
“You’re still in school?”
“Yeah. I graduate in June. I’m on spring break.”
“This June. Like in three months?”
“Yeah. Cool, huh?”
“Yeah.”
But Mya wasn’t so sure it was cool. When he first told her he was working on a documentary she assumed it was for some big studio and it would be for something serious, like world peace and he might be up for an Oscar, and she could go to the awards in a Prada gown and get interviewed by Joan Rivers. Then she’d get discovered and land the starring role in the next Tom Cruise movie and they’d fall in love and…
But he’s a film student!
He drove his van down side streets and straight into one of the more sketchy and bleak-looking areas of L.A. So maybe this was serious and she had misjudged him. Maybe he was doing something important about the downtrodden, the desperately poor and the hopeless in our society.
She looked at him with newfound respect. “What’s your documentary about?”
“Bars.”
Huh?
“Like in taverns?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not serious.”
Okay, don’t judge. Maybe it’s the decadence of the bars. Now that might be an angle.
“Why not? The saloons, taverns and bars of America made this country what we are today. They helped shape us. More historic events took place in saloons than any legal building in the whole of the U.S.”
She stared at him, not quite sure she had heard him correctly. “You’re not serious.”
“You said that already.”
“I’m assimilating the information.” She turned to face him. “Let me get this straight, your premise is that saloons helped shape our country?”
“Damn straight. I’m heading up to Gold Country next. And a couple days ago I was in Tombstone. ‘The town too tough to die.’ I went to the Birdcage Theater where the prostitutes had their own rooms around the poker tables. Did you know that Wyatt Earp married a prostitute? He met her in that very saloon. How’s that for tavern trivia?”
She was coming around. “Actually, that’s kind of interesting. I didn’t know that.”
This could be good.
She thought she might get to the Oscars after all.
He stopped the van in front of a run-down tavern. Two bad-ass older guys, with lots of tattoos and gold chains, sat on the front stoop, giving them the look. You know, that look that said, “What the hell are you two doing here?”
Mya locked her door.
“Aren’t you going to come in with me?”
“Where?”
“This is one of the oldest saloons in L.A. Just look at that architecture.” He bent over to check out the view from the front window.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“But Voodoo is going to need a walk, and I need to film this. Maybe you can walk him for me. Believe me, nobody will bother you with Voodoo.”
“Voodoo will bother me.” She wasn’t stepping one foot out of the van. She had grown accustomed to the smell and wanted to stay right where she was, thank you very much.
“He gets upset when he has to go.”
“Go where?”
“Piss. He needs to take a piss.”
“And you expect me to walk him?”
“Yeah. If you would. Please.”
He smiled over at her, but it was a fake smile. One of those pasted on things that used to drive her crazy when they were kids and he’d want to play soldier and she wanted to play anything but.
Voodoo started barking. Nothing too loud, only it had a guttural sound that made her nervous just being in the van with him. She didn’t know what she was scared of most, Voodoo or the two guys on the stoop.
Eric continued to lure her as he jumped out with his handheld professional-looking camcorder. “I don’t know if you should stay in there.”
“Why?”
“Well, sometimes Voodoo—”
Suddenly the odor that she had gotten somewhat used to intensified.
“Ohmigod!”
She opened the door and leaped out of the van so fast the two guys sitting in front of the store stood up to watch. Eric filmed the whole thing.
Fine!
“What did you feed him? That’s awful!” Mya hissed.
“Are you okay, lady?” one of the guys yelled from the stoop.
Mya turned and said, “Fine. I’m fine. Thanks.” She pasted one of her own fake smiles on her face.
“Like I said, when he’s gotta go, my boy’s gotta go.”
Mya followed Eric to the back of the van while he opened the doors. “Just get the dog out here, and don’t take too long taping in there, ’cause I’m not going to last too long out here. This whole thing is insane.”
“Great. I’ll only be a couple minutes.”
Eric freed Voodoo from his cage. The dog already wore a body harness with a thick black strap to hold him. He completely ignored Mya and jumped on the ground and headed for the nearest tree. The two scary guys slowly stood up and made their way into the tavern. A woman crossed the street as soon as she spotted the dog and a teenage boy hightailed it up the sidewalk.
Voodoo was like walking with a visible grenade. Everybody wanted to get out of your way.
So much for tattoos and mean looks.
“Here,” Eric said, handing her the leash. “You better hold on with both hands. He’s very strong.”
Mya grabbed hold, wrapping the strap around one of her hands for extra strength.
