The Cantina bustled on Friday. Cinco de Mayo would rock Saturday and parties rolled all over the city and especially in the Hispanic neighborhoods. Los Angeles grew to almost 50 percent Hispanic, and Wilmington, just south of San Pedro grew to 90 percent Latino. It would glisten on Saturday night for the party.
Sidebar:
Saturday was Cinco de Mayo, a day often mistaken in the United States for Mexico’s Independence Day. In fact, the holiday had its origin more than 50 years after the date associated with the country’s independence.
Cinco de Mayo, which isn’t widely celebrated in Mexico, commemorates an underdog victory over France in the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862. The victory was galvanizing for the Mexican forces — and for those supporting them from afar — but it was short-lived, as France later occupied Mexico for a few years.
So when is Mexico’s Independence Day celebrated?
The country’s Independence Day is Sept. 16, now a national holiday. On that day in 1810, a priest named Miguel Hidalgo implored Mexico to revolt against Spain, leading to the War for Independence, which ended in 1821.
David Hayes-Bautista, a professor at U.C.L.A., published a book in 2012 titled “El Cinco de Mayo: An American Tradition.” In the book, he called “Cinco de Mayo” a “fake holiday recently invented by beverage companies.”
–New York Times
Saturday shined bright, but it was still cool on the harbor. An offshore breeze kept the girls covered with sweaters until they could scramble into the Cantina and undress into their bubbly, revealing uniforms.
Margaret stocked the bar, while Sheila and Tina bustled around the dining room setting up the tables with fresh linens and clean utensils. Frankie detailed the floors and polished the brass.
Marko and a couple of guys studied Cantina infrastructure and made repairs. Only one customer sought solace at the bar behind his second Corona and it was very early.
Clay, still devastated by the druggie girl who took him for a ride, but more-so took his trust, drank more than usual. More and more it was tough for an old sailor to find a girl he could rely on.
Other than Clay’s ongoing blues, the Cantina was happening, and suddenly a new light shined in the dining room when Bandit’s office/apartment door opened at the top of the stairway and out stepped Sin Wu. Marko spotted her long lanky form first in a 100 percent silk Chinese dress called the cheongsam, which fit her luscious form like a silk glove.
Marko jumped as if he could run to her side and help her descend the stairs in supreme comfort. Even as the other Cantina girls spotted her shapely form coming into view, they stopped to recognize pure beauty floating on air. As Bandit often said, “Women are the flowering blossoms of humanity.”
The Chinaman burst through the swinging galley doors sporting a tray of jalapeno cheese quesadillas and chorrizo egg bites, but when he spotted the glowing rose crossing the dining room he almost lost it and dropped the tray. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared.
Marko rushed to the door and opened it for Sin Wu, but couldn’t say a word. She bowed slightly in acknowledgement. They knew each other from a decade before. A jet-black Lincoln Town Car waited with a tall tuxedo-clad chauffer holding the door.
As the sleek sedan began to pull away, Marko caught the sound of a Harley approaching. As the car slithered out of the parking lot, a rider turned in and jerked into the lot. The bike was an old Panhead classic with an extended glide, a peanut tank and a King and Queen seat.
It popped and wheezed with upswept fishtail pipes. The tall sissybar held all the rider’s belongings. As he pulled up and stopped, Marko watched every move. He could swear the rider looked and smelled of the east coast, maybe Detroit or Daytona, Florida.
The short stubby rider pulled right up to Marko and kicked out his sidestand. “I need to talk to Bandit,” Jake said. “I’m in a jam.”
Marko turned toward the massive oak Cantina door and before he could speak, Tina and Sheila held the door wide open. “This way,” Tina said and led Jake inside and up to Bandit’s office.
Marko stood dazed as if some strange mystical aura surrounded the shop. No sooner did Marko step back into the dining room when he received a call from Bandit. “We need to help this old outlaw. He just got out of prison and wants to settle down in Long Beach,” Bandit said. “Margaret and the girls can help you out.”
“Yep,” Marko said and knew the drill, but it was Cinco de Mayo and shit started happening early and it seemed like it had already kicked off. “But…”
“I know,” Bandit said. “We’re burnin’ daylight.” He hung up.
Jake was a short stubby outlaw from the past. His ragged dark hair sprinkled with gray was un-enhanced like his solid gray goatee and old school Ray Bans. Sorta round, he didn’t look imposing, but he carried himself like a leader or a guy who gets shit done.
He had a positive mode about himself and didn’t try to carry off some old badass vibe, which wouldn’t hold water in the Cantina. Marko assembled the crew around a large round table in the dining room and the Chinaman offered his special sizzling quesadillas, while Margaret supplied drinks, mostly water and iced tea.
“I’m sorta under pressur,” Jake started. “I knew Bandit from the old days and knew he could help. I’m just out of prison. I’ve got a pocket full of cash, but only a federal penitentiary I.D. I found an apartment in Long Beach but the owner won’t budge without credit, a credit card, bank statement, proper I.D., a driver’s license, proof of employment and a former mailing address.”
Sitting at the table was most of the crew, including Frankie, Buster, Tina, Sheila and Mandy. Suddenly they all looked at Marko. Marko, the organizer was the big guy of the bunch with the look of a guy who could climb a mountain, swim across a raging river and still kick your ass.
“We’re in good shape,” Marko said munching down a slice of cheese and shrimp-filled quesadilla, “but we need to move fast. I need my crew back here in two hours to prep for Cinco de Mayo.” Marko wiped his hands with a fresh Cantina napkin and looked around the table. “Frankie, ride your bicycle down to the UPS store. They are waiting to set up a post office box.”
“Mandy,” Marko said quickly. “Take Jake’s prison I.D. and make a half dozen copies. Give one to Frankie and one to Tina and me. Move.”
Jake whipped out his tattered leather wallet and produced the laminated card. Mandy jumped to her feet and dashed across the room
“Tina, would you drive Jake up on the hill to AAA and get a new I.D. and his driver’s license going.” Marko took a gulp of water and a large scoop of chorizo and eggs and turned to Sheila.
“As soon as they are back, I want you to go with Jake to the Chase Bank in downtown Long Beach. The manager is waiting to hook him up with a bank account and a debit card.”
The team rolled out in a blaze of glory. In less than an hour, Frankie returned with Jake’s mailing address. Tina and Jake returned with his temporary California I.D. and receipts for his new license and his bike registered in California. Sheila waited all suited up for a ride.
“I thought you were going to drive him,” said Marko. “You don’t know this guy.”
“If he knows Bandit, he’s okay with me,” Sheila said tugging on her skin-tight denims. “Besides, it’s a rare chance for a ride on a chopper.”
Jake, a man on a mission, bolted up his new California license plate to his sissybar and applied the new registration metallic stickers. He moved his gear to his handlebars with bungie cords. He stood, wearing a black leather vest his shades and a floppy leather beret. He smiled at his new plate and looked at his black sports watch. “We need to move or I’ll lose my chance for this downtown apartment.”
“I’m ready,” Sheila said and snapped her pinstriped beanie helmet in place.
Jake kicked over the Pan and it hit on the second kick. He straddled his trusty ride and donned short black deerskin gloves. Jake held the wobbling, vibrating scooter firm as Sheila climbed on board.
Marko, like a big brother, watched as Jake pulled a mild wheelie, puffed blue smoke from the tarnished chrome upsweeps and blasted out of the parking lot.
The tall sissybar and thick, Le Pera King and Queen seat gave Sheila the notion of supreme comfort on the narrow jiggling chopper as they approached the massive 1,500 foot-long Vincent Thomas suspension bridge, built in 1962, for the ride over onto terrible industrial Terminal Island, then over Darrel Desmond and into downtown Long Beach. The island sports a WWII Coast Guard base. The Naval shipyard is gone, but the federal penitentiary is still around.
Sheila put her arms around Jake’s shoulders and leaned in. “Thanks for the ride.”
Jake felt her abundantly soft breasts for the first time against his neck. Sheila was the girl Bandit and the gang saved from a fate of drug addiction and prostitution. She had a rough streak, like a lost teenager, but was now highly devoted to the Cantina.
Jake was on several missions as he entered California. He needed to escape his outlaw past forever and turn his life upside down for the duration. Only murder and imprisonment existed on the other side. He tried to play it on the edge of straight during his tenure as a club leader, but it rarely works.
Another West Coast state mission was to find gainful employment, a way to make money or a career without slipping into a lifestyle of titty bars, pool halls, or tattoo parlors. And the final mission was to find a girl, a partner or a lover. That could be the toughest mission of all.
Sheila was everything a California surfer wanted in his beach hut. Sort of tall at 5’6”, she had the legs of an athlete, the tits of Jane Mansfield, and the face of an angel with a naughty twist. Even after all the drugs, her teeth were still in great shape.
As they entered downtown Long Beach, Sheila pointed and motioned directions. From time to time her satin arms left a wonderful scent in the air, like a beautiful blossoming rose in the middle of a prison yard of concrete and asphalt.
Jake’s mind swirled with memories, adrenaline, passion, and delight. His pockets were full of keys to his new adventure as he rode along the coast and could see the ocean, the port, fun, restaurants and entertainment all around him.
They pulled into the Chase Bank parking lot and Sheila wrapped her soft arm around his as they entered. She was instructed to put the manager at ease as if Jake was a long lost Bandit’s Cantina family member.
Bandit did serious business with this branch and knew the manager well. Sheila smiled a smile that would melt a battleship as she produced a sizeable Cantina deposit and handed it to the manager, James.
James, a slight young narrow man in a pinstriped suit, called for a clerk to handle the deposit. “We would also like to open an account for our new manager, Jake Condor,” Sheila said and the manager nodded and presented the form to be filled out.
“Would you like a credit card?” James asked as Jake looked at his new California ID and filled out the information with his new P.O. Box address and his new (hopefully) street address.
He smiled as he looked up at Sheila with the knowledge of his new job as the night manager of Bandit’s Cantina. Sheila helped him with any lacking details.
“How long have you worked at the Cantina,” James asked as he reviewed the document.
“A little over three years,” Sheila said. “He lost his wallet recently and had to start over.”
James would no more question Sheila than grill his mother. With Bandit at Jake’s back and Sheila’s smile and delicious cleavage hanging over James’ desk, he was having more fun than he had since last Christmas.
“Would you like to make a deposit?” James asked and Jake pulled a sizeable wad of cash from his Levis pocked and counted out $5,000.
“Can I get some initial checks?” Jake asked.
“Of course,” James said. “Hang here for a minute.” In less than five minutes, James returned with a fresh new credit card, temporary checks and his account receipt.
Jake wasn’t aware of the level of efficiency and new technology. In the last three hours he experienced a 20-year evolution. He was blown away. Sheila tugged on his arm. “We have one more appointment, honey,” she said and they stood together.
“Wait,” James said and Jake froze. The morning turned out to be better than he could have imagined. He went from a life of complete uncertainty to one on the brink of 21st Century security and credit. But could there be a glitch, a security breach, or even a warrant outstanding? His face turned white.
“Don’t move,” James continued and strolled away from his desk briskly.
Jake felt his knees buckling. Sheila’s grasp on his arm tightened. “Relax,” she said, but it fell on deaf ears. Jake was a tough guy on Detroit streets, but that was almost 20 years ago. He did his time and for the first time in his life he wanted to pray for a positive outcome.
James returned with a flat box. “We usually hold these for major corporate clients, but I can see your need for this,” James said and pulled out a finely embossed leather bank, zippered, envelope big enough to carry all of Jake’s new documents and his cash securely. He held it respectively, like a Japanese man offers his business card and bowed slightly. “This should do the trick for all your paperwork and cash.”
Jake about shit his pants. Color returned to his cheeks and he took a deep breath, something he learned from a homeless Buddhist monk on his run across the country.
“Just think about your breath,” the young sandal-wearing monk said standing on a highway in the middle of monument valley in Arizona. “Take three breaths deep into your stomach, thinking only of your breathing and breath. Take one more and say to yourself as you breathe in, ‘Energy and light is entering me.’ As you breathe out say, ‘Tension and negativity is leaving and I am at complete peace.’”
Jake never forgot the encounter and at the next town he ran into a small, fist-sized wooden Medicine Buddha in an antique store. It became a permanent piece of his travel equipment.
“We need to visit your new landlord,” Sheila whispered in his ear.
Jake’s focus returned and they jogged to his chopper resting against the curb like metal angel willing and waiting to take Jake and his golden queen to any Nirvana they chose.
Only a few blocks and Jake pulled into an alley behind 4th street and parked to the side of a line of stucco single car garages. “I need a garage,” he said to Sheila. “They are rare as hens’ teeth locally.”
Meanwhile, back in the Cantina, the crew bustled and prepped for Cinco de Mayo. Tina hustled setting up tables in the dining room. “Where’s Sheila?” she asked Marko.
“Bandit asked me to give her the final assignment,” Marko said. “As you know, there’s always a reason.”
The landlord from India with dark skin and black eyes peered at the couple who approached him. “This is a single apartment,” he snapped.
“I’m a co-worker, not a wife,” Sheila said and her broad gleaming smile filled the room with warmth and joy. Out of the back an Indian woman pushed through a colorful glass-beaded entryway and approached the staunch landlord. She slipped her delicate hand under and over his tight forearm and pulled herself close to him.
Her smile was not as Hollywood glorious as Sheila’s, but just as warm and rich with the crimson color of her lips, the vibrant embroidered hues of her dress and the candy apple color of the dot in the center of her forehead. “He means well,” she said.
The landlord’s temperament turned to a warm dark chocolate. “Do you have what I need?”
“Yes sir,” Jake said and unzipped his bank satchel.
“You have a job?” The landlord questioned.”
“Apparently I do,” Jake said. “I was hired to manage a major restaurant in San Pedro this morning.”
“Speaking of jobs,” Sheila said. “As much as I would like to help you break in your new apartment, I must get back to work. Does he get the apartment?”
“I believe so,” said the Landlord and his wife squeezed his forearm gently.
Sheila turned Jake toward her slightly and planted a long lingering kiss. “When your new bed is ready for action, let me know.” She spun on those slippery legs and was out the door in a flash.”
“A ride?”
“A cab is waiting,” Sheila hollered and disappeared. She also had a mission at Bandit’s Cantina…And Bandit had a mission for Jake involving Sheila.
