I never really knew where my passion had come from. It was just always there.
Frustrated, I threw off the covers and got out of bed. “There has to be a way.” Suddenly, I heard the musical horn of the food truck that showed up about this time every Saturday night. “Andy’s Asada” came by and the smells of freshly-made carne asada came wafting through my window. I’d never gotten any, but I appeared to be the only one in the neighborhood who hadn’t. Within minutes each week, there was a line going around the building.
“Maybe I ought to start a food truck,” I thought, wryly.
Then it hit me. Maybe I really should!
Twenty-Three
Ryder
The traffic heading up Pacific Coast Highway to the convention center was a disaster. Bumper-to-bumper. The concert had sold out within minutes of the tickets going on sale, and from the line of cars, it looked like every one of the twelve thousand people had taken separate cars.
I’d be there already if it was just me on my bike. But I had a couple of very excited girls in the backseat.
“Okay, after the concert, let’s meet at that Starbucks on the corner.” I pointed to a Starbucks that was about four blocks away from the convention center. This way we could meet and minimize the traffic leaving the parking lot.
Since I was going to be at the concert, I’d know when it got out and would wrap things up and head over there.
“Sounds good,” Lily said. “Can you let us out here? I want to check out the prices of the merch before we get inside.” She was pointing to some kid with green hair selling t-shirts off the side of the road out the back of his car.
“Sure.” I pulled over and they got out. “Be careful, okay?”
Lily grinned and said, “Thanks,Dad. We will.”
As I watched them walk over to green hair, I marveled at how grown up she looked. And yet, she was still a girl in a lot of respects.
Shaking my head, I pulled back out into traffic. Two pretty sixteen-year-old girls-alone at a concert? What could go wrong?
* * *
“‘Bout time you got here.”Padre was standing next to a barricade, channeling hundreds of young people into the convention center. “The rest of the guys have been here for almost two hours.”
“Sorry, Padre. I had something personal come up. Did you get my text?”
“Moves said somethin’ about it. You know I don’t check damn texts.”
It was true. Padre was really old school in a lot of ways. “What’s going on here?”
“So far there’s been no sign of trouble. Swole is at the north entrance with Dog, and Vlad and Moves are right across from the east entrance. Chalupa and Trainer are in the west parking lot with a clear view of that entrance. Yoda and the prospects are getting everyone coffee, and Pin is inside, watching the security cameras. You and me, we’ll stake out here at the south entrance.”
“Cool. Any word on whether Las Balas are planning on showing up?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. They don’t exactly forward us their itinerary.”
I wasn’t expecting them either, since this was a straightforward security gig. But with those guys you never knew. They just liked to start trouble for the hell of it sometimes.
Just then, about half a dozen LPPD bikes rolled up and parked far away from ours. Walking toward the entrance we were guarding, they completely ignored us, which was not surprising. Even though the top brass was okay with us working these events, the rank and file officers didn’t appreciate our presence at all.
They went inside and we re-secured the rope that was blocking the gate.
I looked at my phone and the concert would be starting in about fifteen minutes. I found myself wondering if Lily and Bailey had found their seats okay, but before I could text to make sure, I was distracted by a loud boom out over the water.
“What the hell was that?” I asked Padre. It didn’t sound like fireworks. Before he could answer, our walkie-talkies started blowing up.
“What the fuck was that?” Chalupa asked.
“Was that a goddamn bomb?”
