Excerpt from Chapter 16, 'The Rainbow Room' from my WIP Novella, 'God Loathes You'

The Rainbow Room  

The morning after our little misadventure, we awoke and shared a cig. She had to leave shortly thereafter, on account of having to get home and shower and change into her work clothes. I pulled her into bed once more, and though she resisted a little, I won and kissed her. She returned my kiss and waved at me flirtatiously. No sooner had she departed I got a call from my agent, saying that he wanted to meet up and discuss yesterday. I agreed to meet him amidst protest. He said for me to come into Hollywood and meet him at the Los Burritos.

So, I called a taxi and took it into Hollywood, and directed the driver to my destination right there on the infamous boulevard. I paid the driver and climbed out only to be greeted by Chris. He was wearing his usual gray jacket with white button down shirt and matching gray slacks. He walked over to me and shook my hands. This man was most peculiar but I let the matter slide because without him I’d not be where I was. Even so I knew that he’d probably still be a little more than ticked off at me for bailing on him when he was already pissed off beforehand what with being cut out of the loop.

“Damn those taxis sure take their time getting anywhere,” Chris declared feeling a tad bit anxious to get down to the matter he had summoned me to discuss.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to about this very situation. I appreciate the posh lodging but not having my own personal mode of transportation is most unbecoming,” I retorted with a hint of frustration that lashed like whips laced with venom.

He didn’t say a word and only gestured for me to go on inside. So, I did and he followed after me. We walked over to his booth. The place was fairly small but clean and the air was warm in one corner where the cooks prepared the meals and cooler over on the right side where the patrons sat. On all four walls of the venue were pictures of the founders and how Hollywood looked back when. Just a bunch of historical pictures of what was before and what existed now.

After taking a seat, I pulled out my pack of smokes and removed one, placing it to my lips; I returned the pack to my pants pocket. “I heard this place makes some of the best Mexican food you could want,” I commented recalling what I had heard in the Writer’s Room about this place. I lit up.

“Yeah, this place makes some killer burritos, and their enchiladas aren’t too shabby either,” Chris concurred.
An older lady wearing a red apron and black shirt and black jeans topped off by a hair net approached the table. She took out a worn notepad from the large pouch that lined the front of the apron.

“What can I get you guys?” she asked waiting patiently.

“Okay, I’ll have some of the house enchiladas and a bottle of Stella,” Chris spoke first and ordered.

I took another drag from my cig and put it out in the ashtray resting against the wall. “I’d like to try some of your nachos and maybe a couple of tacos, and to drink, I’d like some Corona,” I said winking at her, and she actually broke into a smile, sadly, it was short-lived. As she turned around she resumed her expressionless facial.

“Alright, my reason for us getting together here was to clear the air,” Chris started. “But you know what, I am not even going to go there,” he amended noticing my facial expression.

“Nah, it’s totally cool if you’re still pissed at me, I’d be pissed at you if you did something similar, but we got bigger fish to fry,” I retorted half disappointed in his willingness to discard what had happened and half glad to clear the air as he had said.

He nodded in agreement and took a couple sips from his Stella and me from my Corona.

Within minutes after our exchange of words the food was brought to our table and it smelled simply delicious and caused me to feel hunger although I hadn’t felt hungry upon arrival. The smell of the food and the look of it changed my mind. I dug in and stopped only to drink some of my brew and back to eating. “This food is the bomb, Chris. Respect,” I said still chewing a bit of my last taco.

I stole a glance about the limited seating in this venue and noticed most of the patrons were dressed similar to the style of dress that my agent, Chris sported, although more expensive and chic looking but still. This made me feel out of place but then again that was my thing. Not fitting in, and never giving a damn such was my mindset.

“I told you,” he retorted. “But yeah, have you been out on the Sunset Strip yet?” he ended his dialogue with a question.

“I know something of this which you call the Sunset Strip but have I actually traverse down said locale?” I didn’t have a clue about this but had to appear as if I was aware of its existence.

“No, I’ve not had the luxury of enjoying the Sunset Strip and its many bars, and clubs,” I came clean and admitted to not having been there.

Sure I have driven down Sunset Boulevard as far as La Brea but I never went beyond just until the border of Hollywood and West Hollywood, and along that short stretch were tons of night clubs and bars and eateries. Or so Chris filled me in. I listened intently.     So we passed the reminder of the afternoon getting high and talking about random shit until the sun started to set. Then we climbed in his beamer and rode in style until Hollywood. He had put the top down and right in that moment I was thinking this was the American dream. Hell, it was the California life that everyone here had taken advantage of. Now, it was my turn to indulge and partake of.