NEW FICTION : They Call it The City of Angels / CHAPTER ONE / A New Serial Novel by Joshua A. TRILIEGI

They Call it The City of Angels

A New Serial Novel by Joshua A. TRILIEGI

Exclusively for Readers of BUREAU of ARTS and CULTURE and
our Three sites in Los Angeles, San Francisco and New York City

All National & International Copy Rights Reserved to the Author


Chapter One: Louis


Los Angeles is a funny place to live, but those laughing were
usually from out of town. Louis was a busboy down at Old Ma
Fritters Cafe & Saloon, the longest running truck stop in the
Harbor. He had been a busboy for almost twenty six years,
before that, he washed dishes, before that, he attended the
parking lot. Directing the truck drivers where to park, making
sure the working mom's could get in and out without missing
a beat, knowing the difference between regulars who ate at the
counter and the new comers who were most likely in town to
visit the Queen Mary or take a cruise Catalina Island for the day.
All in all, Louis was a quiet, hard working man with a simple view
on life. He was happy to have a job, never missed a day of work,
except the day his son was sentenced to seventeen years in the
penitentiary for manslaughter. That was over fifteen years ago
and today was the day that Louis Junior would come home,
this made him nervous. His only vice, a daily cheap cigar.

Since that time, his wife had a stroke, his daughter had married
a local cop and he had three beautiful grandkids. So much had
changed since louis junior had gone away. In 1976, it was a old
world, now it was nineteen-ninety-one. The Dodgers entire team
had been replaced, there were new presidents, everything was
different. But still, he showed up to work on time and already
the word had gotten out that Louis Junior was back in town and
heading this way. He had reservations. He knew that Junior was
a good kid, got caught up with the wrong friends early on, had
been picked on and turned tough gut mostly for his own survival.
The accident had been complicated, it had involved a rival member
of another group of kids as well as one of Junior's ex- girlfriends
and to top it off the first cop on the scene was Louis' s new son-in
-law, Chuck, who happened to be white. They all lived in a big
victorian style house just above the port, which had a guest house
where Louis senior lived and in the big house, his daughter, Celia,
Chuck and the three girls, Cindy, Donna and Francine. It was a
good life, most of the time. Louis wondered exactly what he would
say, where junior would sleep and how all of this would play out.
He figured junior could stay on the couch in the guest house and
later he could break the news that after all was said and done:
Chuck had met Celia after that day in court and one thing led to
another, as things like this often do & well, here we are, a family.

He couldn't know exactly what Junior would think, say or do, but
he knew it wouldn't be a smooth transition. Junior had been saved
in the joint and had found god. He belonged to an outreach program
that was ready to offer him a chance to work and go back to school,
but housing was not provided. So, Louis said, " Yes son, of course
you can stay with us while you get back on your feet. " And so the
day started, as these days often do down in the port. Up at 5 AM,
to work by five thirty, he'd have an early lunch and since everyone
knew junior was coming home, had the choice to go home early,
but had already decide to stay the duration. Work was his way of
dealing with the troubles of life. It steadied his resolve, gave him
roots, kept him calm, kept him centered, even if deep down inside,
he knew that this was not an ordinary day and that things could
go bad.


No one was more aware of the impending problems than Chuck,
who worked at the front desk office directly across from the
loading docks at the longshore pick up and delivery. He hadn't
seen Junior since that day in court and before that the terrible
rainy night on the street with bodies mangled, wind swept asphalt,
palm trees bending to the ground and a fierce full moon reflecting
anguish, pain and death, in his eyes. He couldn't sleep all that
morning. For a cop, he was, not a total square, his own brother
had been a pot dealer back in the nine-teen sixties and since then,
he himself had imbibed more than a few glasses of whiskey a night.
He was hip to jazz music, loved the various cultures in Los Angeles
and more than anything, adored his wife and three girls. His family
was his everything. He was thinking about junior as he pulled into
the cafe to get breakfast to go, and three cups of joe for the boys
at the office, who secretly hated the coffee served in the back room.
Ma Fritters Coffee was made with a pinch of cinnamon and was
generally strong compared to the instant regulation joe that the
knuckle heads made. Know one said anything as Chuck pulled
into the cafe, but everyone knew what was on their minds as
Louis and Chuck exchanged words in the parking lot. The
waitresses and line cooks stopped what they were doing and
saying for just a second or two and sure enough a hush drifted
through the place. Those who didn't know the score figured it
out pretty quick. The cop and the busboy, who was actually a
fully grown man with grandkids, chatted quietly about the day.
Neither had figured out what was the best way to deal with it,
nor did they fully understand how junior would take it: both knew,
it wouldn't be easy. But life in the L.A. Harbor never really was.



All National & International Copy Rights Reserved to the Author
Novel Publication / Film Rights / Television Series Rights
Joshua A. TRILIEGI Contact at 1 . 213 . 975 . 0067

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