“Oh. Okay,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. My pretty face—and my life—were safe for now. So then why were these two goons staring me down? If their expressions were any indication, this trip was not going to be all fun and games.
“Despite that, I have to go with my gut,” Alejandro added, downing another cashew, right before his jovial eyes went cold with a menacing glare. “And my gut’s telling me all’s not well with dear Miguel. So, I’m giving LC forty-eight hours to let me speak with my son. I no hear from mi hijo, then these two gentlemen will start cutting body parts, and we will send them to LC until I have my son back. Comprende?”
“Si,” I replied casually, hoping to mask my nervousness. In truth, I was scared shitless. LC had better work this situation out in a hurry.
“Good, good,” he said heartily. “Until then, enjoy yourself as my guest. Eat. Drink. Be merry.”
In other words, enjoy yourself as best you can, because tomorrow there’s a good damn chance you shall die.
As scared as I was, I still couldn’t resist playing with my two new best friends a little. “Okay,” I said, “but I hope your boys don’t mind gay bars, because I plan on visiting The Pink Lion, picking up a pretty young thing, and getting laid.”
Both men glanced at each other, then turned to their boss. It was quite obvious they wanted no part of a club like The Pink Lion.
“Take him where he wants to go, but don’t let him out of your sight.”
As Alejandro had promised, they treated me as well as could be expected; but the clock was ticking, and I could feel the pressure mounting as Alejandro demanded answers from LC back in New York. The dirty looks and less than hospitable attitudes of my escorts were evident, and it made me nervous as hell. I didn’t want to die. I tried to console myself with the thought that at least the weather was nicer out here. And the shopping was off the hook! Oh, and all the fine wannabe actors swarming around meant I had plenty to look at to keep my mind off my current predicament.
“Got anything to say?” my de facto chauffeur asked as he pulled the black Suburban with darkly tinted windows to a stop. His eyes were like daggers in the rearview mirror.
I felt as though he was asking me for any last words before I was sentenced to death. “I don’t know what else to say,” I said with a shrug. “I just want to enjoy my stay out here while our bosses have their Doctor Phil moment.”
“Just have your boss turn over Miguel, puta, or I’ll be the one to kill you myself,” the more angry one, seated next to me, snarled. It was obvious he’d hacked a body or two in his time.
“If I had that kind of power, I wouldn’t be here with you two handsome gentlemen. Oh, and I’m being sarcastic when I call you handsome. Just so you know. Now... can we go inside, please?”
Before exiting the vehicle, both men were sure to remind me that they were packing.
“Roger that,” I said as I sarcastically saluted. We had parked a block away and made the trek up Santa Monica Boulevard so as not to run the risk of a nosy valet discovering the rest of their arsenal.
“How do you know about this place?” one of them asked as they trailed behind me, hands on triggers, no doubt.
“I heard about it online and always wanted to see it. Somewhere I can have some fun,” I replied, leaving off the unspoken before I die. I continued to step lively down the sidewalk. I would play my role and go along with LC’s plan as long as possible, but I had to start thinking about a last-minute escape. The problem was that I was more MacGruber than MacGyver. I guess that was the real reason Pop chose me. If I didn’t make it out alive, the organization wouldn’t lose a beat. That old softy. In my case, it was business before family.
“Fuckin’ maricón,” one of them muttered when he realized just how out there and flamboyant The Pink Lion was.