Chapter

 5

On a Hollywood street corner, sudden rain starts to fall, causing the people on the busy corner to scurry for cover.

Banjo, a young black Rag in his 30’s, stands next to his shopping cart, selling old cast-away umbrellas he’s collected.  “Twenty-five cents for reconditioned umbrella will save you dollars at the cleaners.  Don’t forget smog and rain make black spots, and nobody wants black spots.

The rain comes down harder and a couple of people pop for the 2 bits and run away with their battered, but still functionable, umbrellas.

Pepe walk up and slaps a dollar bill in Banjo’s hand.

“Hey, Pepe,” says Banjo.  “Where’d you get that kind of money?”

Pepe pulls him and his cart from the rain and under a metal patio umbrella in front of a fast food stand…

***

Sarah, another Rag warrior, inspects an old transistor radio she’s pulled from a trash can as pedestrians scurry from cover up and down the sidewalk in front of her.

            A few yards behind her, Pepe gives Banjo a copy of the picture and an old used Walkman-type cassette recorder explaining the situation.

            Sarah, perplexed by the inactivity of the transistor radio shakes her head.  “No wonder.”  She sees the antennae has been ripped out and takes a  clothes hanger from her cart, sticks it into the radio and continues to manipulate it until…

            “…and our forecast is for mild temperatures today with the mercury dropping into the 40’s tonight, skies gicing us an occasional sprinkle, but no appreciable moisture.”

            Sophia watches the pouring rain almost wash the radio out of her hand.  She looks at the transistor and mumbles to herself, “Must be picking up some foreign country.”  She turns back to Pepe through the pouring rain.  “Hey, Pepe… got any tape?”

            Pepe gestures to wait a minute.  “Hey, Banjo, you know the bars around here well.  She might be on the juice, but…”

            “You’ll be hearin’ from me, Pepe,” as he races off.

            “Damn it, Pepe.  I need some tape.”

            Pepe get up and goes to Sarah, pulling a dry cigarette out from underneath his rags. “…and a dry cigarette, Sarah?”

***

            Sometime later, along Mulholland Drive Ridge, a jeep modified for off-road racing, flies over a big bump on the dirt road.

            Half-mile away, a city bus stops at a corner and Anna and Darian step off.  In the distance, several more off-road machines fly over the same hump as Anna and Darian walk towards the area.

            “And… we get along good together,” says Darian.  “He’s kind of a loner, too.  We built his car out of junk parts from the yard and it turned out okay.”

            They come up to the dirt road.  Several young couples are rooting for Clint.  “C’mon, Clint”. “You’re gonna do it”. You’re gonna do it.”

            “What’s happening,” asks Darian.

            An excited boy answers him, “Clint’s tryin’ to break his own record.”

            “Thought he was just doing some testing today.”

            “Nope.  He goin’ for it.”

            Darian is upset.  “Damn it!  He knows those shocks aren’t safe for a record try.”

            The two-mile dipsy-doodle road is engulfed with dust as four off-road vehicles vie for position.  Clint’s car bounces and careens through the course like there’s no tomorrow, crossing the finish line amidst the cheers of the group and the timer who yells out the record time. “Seven minutes, twenty-three seconds.  A new record!”

            Clint crawls out of the cage, revealing a very handsome suntanned twenty-two-year-old.  He charges to the front end of the car and accepts the acknowledgment from everyone but obviously more concerned with his car.  He shakes his head as Darian walks up to him.

            Clint kicks the dirt.  “You were right, Darian.  That suspension’s shot now.”

            Darian smiles.  “You gotta listen to the did more often.  Anyway, I’ll help you fix it.” He turns to Anna.  “Clint, meet Anna.”

            Anna feeling shy, sticks her hand out.  “Hi.”

            Clint shakes her hand and hesitates in letting it go.  The crowd has now engulfed him with each paying up the $20.00 bet.

            Clint nods and grins his thank you.  “Thanks.  Thanks.  Better luck next time, as they say.

            Suddenly, a police chopper rises up from the valley and passes overhead.  Clint looks up as it passes.  “Whew!  Finished that just in time.  Out luck keeps holding out.”

            From the chopper, a loud speaker bellows out, “Move it out everybody.  These are fire roads, not a race course.” 

            The crowd give the chopper the thumbs up sign and it veers off and flies through the canyons toward Los Angeles.

***

Inside a public toilet, a swollen and blistered foot is being washed in the sink of the large tiled room.  Other Rag women are changing clothes, doing their wash and drying their hair with the blow driers along the wall.  The routine is broken when a prostitute, decked out in a red sequined shift, walks in with a very drunk customer.

            Prostitute fires out an order, “C’mon, ladies.  Take a break.”

            They all give her a glance, then go back to their work.

            “I said take a hike, God damn it! Shouts the prostitute.  “I’ve got work to do.”

            The women stop and gather themselves together as the prostitute takes her man over to one of the sinks.  “Let’s get clean, sugar.”  She glares back at the women who make their way out.  All but Sophia.  She continues to do her wash.  “You too, Grandma.”

            Sophia still doesn’t budge.  “It’s a public restroom.  Much mine as yours, Bitch.”

            The drunk fumbles with the faucets knobs as the prostitute goes over to Sophia.  “Look lady, don’t push it.”  She motions to the outside.  “Steely’s just itchin’ for a workout.”

            Sophia glances toward the doorway, then stuffs the wet wash in her cart and begins to leave.

            The prostitute goes back to her trick who drunkenly washes his hands.  She rolls her eyes. “Not your fuckin’ hand, idiot.”

Outside, Sophia emerges into the early morning light.  Steely stands outside the entrance in parade dress, casually slapping his night stick into his palm and chewing a wad of bubble gum.  As Sophia passes him, he tips his hat.  “Nice day, eh Sophia?”

            She stops her cart, turns back to him and glances toward the toilets.  “Profitable for you, I’m sure.”

            Their eyes lock.  He’s temped to whack her, but changes his mind, smiles, and offers her some gum.  “Gum?”

            “You got a spare rack of teeth to chew it with?”

            Made a bit uncomfortable, steely turns away, avoiding her eyes.  “Move it hag!”

            “Sure, officer.  Absolutely.”  She pushes her cart over to a park bench and wrings out her wash, hanging the tattered pieces over the sides of her cart.

            Steely watches, smiling arrogantly and twirling his night stick.  “Hear you and whole tribe are looking for someone.”

            She glances up, then continues wringing out the wash.

            Steely continues.  “Why she so important you got the whole tribe lookin?”

            She doesn’t answer.  Steely casually ambles over and stands in front of the cart.  “Asked you a question.”

            She glances defiantly up at him.  “It don’t’ have nothin’ to do with you, Steely.”

            He smiles again and nonchalantly pushes his stick under some dripping laundry, lifts, and drops it in the dirt beside the cart. “Anything you Rags do is a concern of min.  My job’s to take care you don’t get in trouble.  You know what I mean?  All the citizens deserve to be watched over by the law… even you people.”  He grins at her, blows a bubble and turns to leave, stepping on the clothes.  “I’ll be watchin’ yah.  All of yah.”  He moves back to the rest room entrance as the prostitute comes out.  She sticks a $10.00 bill in his hand.  “He’s all yours, officer.”  Steely tips his hat, takes one last glance around and disappears into the restroom.

            Sophia watches the prostitute take out her compact, touch up, throw a kiss her way, and leave.

            From the restroom, “You tryin’ to bribe me, Mr.”  Whack!  “Don’t take no bribes.”  Whack!  “Now, get your ass out of here ‘fore I haul yous downtown.” Whack!

            Sophia gathers up her dirty laundry and pushes the cart away.  Hate and disgust filling her usually kind and cheerful face.  She mumbles to herself, “Your day’s comin’ Steely.  Mark my words.”