out at his mother’s urging, just before she was deported back to Mexico. In the months that followed, he’d found his way to the Twist Hotel and a different kind of life, but he still had contacts, and they were coming through for him now.
Dave’s Chicken and Flapjacks was a greasy spoon three blocks from the Twist Hotel. Twist had spent a significant part of his life in the place and led the way straight into the back, where a man named Al was nursing a Coke in a red plastic glass. When he saw Cruz, he stood up, and they hugged, and he passed a package to him. “Plates and papers for a Jeep Rubicon.”
Cruz nodded and cued Twist, who took an envelope from the interior pocket in his sport coat and handed it over. “As agreed,” he said.
Al nodded and put the money away without counting it. “There are two watchers, all the time. One watches the front, the other watches the back and the south side. Can’t see the north side so well. They dress like people in the neighborhood, but their haircuts are wrong, and they are too much like soldiers. Big vibes.”
“That’s them,” Twist said.
“You want us to move them along?” Al asked.
“No, no,” Cruz said. “When we go in, if you see them make a move, call us. But that’s all.”
“This we can do.”
Cruz said, “
Gracias,
Alejandro. Mándale saludos a tu mamá de mi parte.
”
—
Cruz and Twist left Odin and Fenfang in the restaurant, working on his laptop. Twist did a quick change of clothes in the car while Cruz changed the license plates, and then they walked down to the hotel. A block away, Twist asked Cruz, “Do you still have that .45?”
“In the car. Why?”
“If we were stopped by the cops or anyone else, I’d want you to shoot me,” Twist said.
Cruz laughed and said, “I think you’re cute.”
“Cruz…”
“I’m lying. You got ugly legs. Ugly.”
“Thank you.”
They went in the hotel’s north door, which opened with a key that only a few people had, and straight up the back stairs to the rooms that housed Dum and Dee, the hotel’s enforcers. They saw nobody on the way up. When Dum opened his door, he stared at Twist for a moment, then broke into a spasm of soundless laughter.
Twist said, “Yeah, yeah, let me in so I can get out of this dress….” He was wearing a yellow dress with a puffy skirt, of a kind popular in parts of the L.A. Hispanic culture, and an orange silk scarf tied around his head; he was carrying a wicker tote and a pink umbrella, instead of his cane.
“Ugly legs,” Cruz said.
Twist went into Dum’s bathroom with the tote and changed into his regular black T-shirt, black jeans, and high-tops.
Sitting on the toilet, lacing up the shoes, he realized how much he’d missed the place: since getting involved with Shay, he’d literally been driven from his home.
As crazy as the hotel was, he loved it. Though it ran right on the edge of chaos, somehow it had always held together, and the kids who lived there seemed to grow into an extended family—in some cases, the only family they’d ever had. Even the cops would come around to chat, knowing that the hotel was a good thing. Now he was like a hunted animal, always looking over his shoulder. Couldn’t turn back. He picked up the dress, went back out into Dum’s room.
Dum got his twin brother, Dee, and Lou, Twist’s second-in-command, and Emily, a girl who’d been Shay’s roommate during her short stay at the hotel and who’d been there at the start of the conflict with Singular.
Twist started with Lou: “Any problems?”
“People are wondering where you are,” she said in her soft Somalian accent. “With Dum and Dee, I can keep the lid on for a while, but if you’re not around, people are going to start getting…pushy.”
“Anybody in particular?”
“Barbara Hemme comes to mind. I’ve been getting a lot of lip from her. That guy Tucker, who calls himself Duke, he’s been throwing some bullshit around about the place going
Dave’s Chicken and Flapjacks was a greasy spoon three blocks from the Twist Hotel. Twist had spent a significant part of his life in the place and led the way straight into the back, where a man named Al was nursing a Coke in a red plastic glass. When he saw Cruz, he stood up, and they hugged, and he passed a package to him. “Plates and papers for a Jeep Rubicon.”
Cruz nodded and cued Twist, who took an envelope from the interior pocket in his sport coat and handed it over. “As agreed,” he said.
Al nodded and put the money away without counting it. “There are two watchers, all the time. One watches the front, the other watches the back and the south side. Can’t see the north side so well. They dress like people in the neighborhood, but their haircuts are wrong, and they are too much like soldiers. Big vibes.”
“That’s them,” Twist said.
“You want us to move them along?” Al asked.
“No, no,” Cruz said. “When we go in, if you see them make a move, call us. But that’s all.”
“This we can do.”
Cruz said, “
Gracias,
Alejandro. Mándale saludos a tu mamá de mi parte.
”
—
Cruz and Twist left Odin and Fenfang in the restaurant, working on his laptop. Twist did a quick change of clothes in the car while Cruz changed the license plates, and then they walked down to the hotel. A block away, Twist asked Cruz, “Do you still have that .45?”
“In the car. Why?”
“If we were stopped by the cops or anyone else, I’d want you to shoot me,” Twist said.
Cruz laughed and said, “I think you’re cute.”
“Cruz…”
“I’m lying. You got ugly legs. Ugly.”
“Thank you.”
They went in the hotel’s north door, which opened with a key that only a few people had, and straight up the back stairs to the rooms that housed Dum and Dee, the hotel’s enforcers. They saw nobody on the way up. When Dum opened his door, he stared at Twist for a moment, then broke into a spasm of soundless laughter.
Twist said, “Yeah, yeah, let me in so I can get out of this dress….” He was wearing a yellow dress with a puffy skirt, of a kind popular in parts of the L.A. Hispanic culture, and an orange silk scarf tied around his head; he was carrying a wicker tote and a pink umbrella, instead of his cane.
“Ugly legs,” Cruz said.
Twist went into Dum’s bathroom with the tote and changed into his regular black T-shirt, black jeans, and high-tops.
Sitting on the toilet, lacing up the shoes, he realized how much he’d missed the place: since getting involved with Shay, he’d literally been driven from his home.
As crazy as the hotel was, he loved it. Though it ran right on the edge of chaos, somehow it had always held together, and the kids who lived there seemed to grow into an extended family—in some cases, the only family they’d ever had. Even the cops would come around to chat, knowing that the hotel was a good thing. Now he was like a hunted animal, always looking over his shoulder. Couldn’t turn back. He picked up the dress, went back out into Dum’s room.
Dum got his twin brother, Dee, and Lou, Twist’s second-in-command, and Emily, a girl who’d been Shay’s roommate during her short stay at the hotel and who’d been there at the start of the conflict with Singular.
Twist started with Lou: “Any problems?”
“People are wondering where you are,” she said in her soft Somalian accent. “With Dum and Dee, I can keep the lid on for a while, but if you’re not around, people are going to start getting…pushy.”
“Anybody in particular?”
“Barbara Hemme comes to mind. I’ve been getting a lot of lip from her. That guy Tucker, who calls himself Duke, he’s been throwing some bullshit around about the place going
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