“They were a major motivating factor,” he admits with a grin. “But the company wasn’t bad either.”
The light turns green, and he speeds up through the intersection.
I count the streetlights so one very basic compliment won’t knock the logic right out of my head.
“Well, in that case,” I say, “I have another unmissable LA experience for you.”
“I’m all ears.”
I direct him toward the coast, to the most-underrated food truck in LA.
“Take this next right,” I instruct as we approach a bend. “Then follow the road until you see a blue van with a giant octopus painted on the side.”
Josh drives along, and soon we’re pulling into a small parking area overlooking the ocean from up a cliff. A short line of people waits in front of the truck, blocking most of the tentacled artwork curling around a stylized taco. It’s mostly locals. Tourists stick to the more famous spots.
“Alright, you’re in on my best secret now,” I tell Josh as we join the queue. “These tacos will ruin you for all others.”
“Is there a secret handshake to pay, or do I just nod knowingly at the cashier?” He smirks down at me.
Gosh, he’s so tall. “Regular cash will do.”
“How did you find it?”
“My sister. Her agent tipped her off about it, and Josie let me in on the secret.”
“Is she an actress? Is that how she met Rian Phoenix?”
“Oh, no. They met when they got stuck in an elevator together. And Josie writes and illustrates children’s books. I meant literary agent.”
“Ah. Bet Penny is her number one fan.”
“Yep, she was the inspiration behind the career shift. My sister was in PR. Dorian is a client of her old firm.”
When we reach the front of the line, I order in Spanish. I studied it in high school and use it daily in the ER. The guy behind the counter recognizes me and throws in an extra taco “for the pretty lady and her boyfriend.”
I start to correct him, but Josh grins and says, “Gracias,” before I can get the words out.
“You speak Spanish?” I ask as we walk away with our food.
“Enough to order beer and find a bathroom,” he replies. “Not enough to explain I’m not yournovio.”
I laugh despite myself. “You should pick up lessons. Spanish is SoCal’s unofficial second language.”
Instead of sitting at one of the wooden picnic tables near the truck, Josh suggests we eat in the bed of his pickup. He lowers the tailgate and spreads out a blanket he pulls from behind the seat.
“Always prepared, huh?” I comment as he helps me climb up.
“Eagle Scout,” he replies with a mock salute. “Also, I sleep back here sometimes when I go camping.”
We settle side by side, legs dangling off the tailgate, food spread between us. The sun has started its descent, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that reflect off the water. The ocean stretches out before us, waves crashing against the shore below.
When I take in the scene in its entirety—the sunset, the blue waters, the two of us sitting together in the back of his truck, and the gentle background music playing from the food truck—I realize how date-like the setting is. My pulse quickens, and I focus on unwrapping my taco to avoid looking at him.
“These are amazing,” Josh says after his first bite, closing his eyes in appreciation. “I might have to break my lease and move next door to this truck.”
“Told you,” I shoot back, way too pleased that he’s loving my favorite spot.
In a treacherous, unguarded moment, I’m also glad this is a place I discovered after Daniel passed. That no memories link us to this cliff. That I’m a little lighter up here.
