Date: Tue, 11 Apr 2023 13:10:51 -0700 From: Juxepe Albi Subject: Nightlife in L.A. - A b-b tale - Chapters 1, 2, 3 Nightlife in L.A. - A b-b tale Chapter 1 -- Look, But Don't Touch Pacific Palisades My name is Adriano Maximiliano Oroles Filotti, but everyone calls me Adrian. I am a day-walker and a people watcher. I spend every free hour watching people and observing their routines. It was difficult for me to cope with the changes when I first arrived in Los Angeles, having been born in a rural area; but now, the hustle and bustle of the big city fascinates me no end. When I was a young child, it was unusual for me to encounter anyone with whom I, or my family, didn't hold as an acquaintance. Here, in the great city of Los Angeles, the situation is reversed. I never see anyone I know----most of those I do know sleep late, very late. I was perched on a rock near the water, on the Pacific Coast Highway just across from the spot where Sunset Boulevard terminates, melting into the Pacific Coast Highway. We lived in Pacific Palisades, within reasonable walking distance of this, one of my favorite spots. There was a tree behind me some distance from the water; one of the few trees on this side of the PCH at this point, where I loved to go and watch the cars go by. I had returned to the tree, and was sitting on an oversized, exposed root, which was just about bench-high. I could hear the sound of motorcycles approaching around the curve in the road; and all of sudden there were two flying by. Flying in the air, that is; they had collided somehow, and were thrown toward the rocks. Unfortunately for the riders, I was the only witness to their accident; and I rushed to the scene. The first victim I encountered was young----fourteen or fifteen years of age. The boy was obviously too badly injured to survive. His friend, about the same age, was in the same pitiful shape. There was tremendous blood loss; it was too late for both of them. Their bikes, which now had fallen into the water, were literally in pieces. "Help us! Please, help us!" the first boy begged. Without thinking, I knew what I was in for, if I did as the boy asked. It was positively forbidden to do what I intended to do--indeed, it was punishable by death. At the very least, I would be severely ostracized, with a suitable punishment included----and who knew what else. But, I had to do it. These boys were too young to die. Chapter 2 -- No Good Deed goes Unpunished I was sitting in my bed, leaning against the headboard, and cruising the internet on my laptop. My apartment was in the Peşteră Filotti (Filotti Cavern), or--as some of the immigrant occupants called it-- the Sferturi subterane Filotti (Filotti Underground Quarters), depending on which of the three or four areas involved----a vast man-made cavern----subterranean quarters of the Filotti Family, and many other families, built deeply beneath the Meditation Center on Sunset, the lake, and the southeastern-most section of Topanga State Park, with surrounding areas off Sunset Boulevard. It was an easily accessible location. Across the hall, in my guest bedroom, on two single beds, were the two boys I had rescued. I began to think about the situation. I had not been seriously punished, although the penalty could have meant death; but, I had been made totally responsible for the actions of the two boys----forever; and for us, forever was a very long time. In a small refrigerator, which served as a nightstand, were several bottles of "juice." The special "juice" had been developed in an experimental medicine laboratory years ago by two dedicated scientists; both of whom were now my closest friends. They had reminded me that now, after my "good deed," I would need a much larger quantity than my usual "breakfast" required, which was about one eight-ounce glassful----enough nourishment for an entire day. It had been five days, and there was no sign that the boys would be waking up soon; but they were quickly healing, due to the stregio-catholicon in my blood. From what I could tell, there would be no scarring on their bodies from the horrible mangling they had endured. I had been cleaning them myself; as I was not allowed to ask for any help----but I was a good worker. I knew what I had in store for me before I took on the project. Actually, I felt good about what I had done. At my birthplace in the small village in Romania, where I had spent my childhood, near the coastal city of Constanţa--when my family first moved near there, before the 4th century, it was called Τόμις [Tomis], there had been no internet, no small refrigerators, no television, no electric lights, no running water; yet somehow, the people were happy. They were happy because they didn't know any better. A terrible war had caused my family to become uprooted; and we were lucky to have been shipped to Istanbul, where we were put on a freighter bound for Gibraltar. My father had connections there. That the connections had remained unknown to me, was incidental. My family was not very forthcoming with information like that. We had been lucky, and from there were given first-class accommodations on a passenger ship bound for Río de Janeiro. Two days before we were to arrive in Río, we found that circumstances had caused a change in destinations; our ship was diverted south to the Falkland Islands in order to take on undisclosed cargo. It was another two weeks before we learned that our new "safe house" would not be in Río, but in California. Both my parents were delighted; as that had been our final destination anyway. The stop in Río, which expectedly would have taken over a year obtaining the necessary documentation to proceed to the United States, was cancelled due to lack of some necessary papers permitting our landing in Brazil, and the unexpected detour south. We all had a working knowledge of Portuguese, our having had a cook from Lisbon; but the English language had been drummed into my head from birth. Both my parents had learned English during what they had called "The Great War," and they were proud that I could speak it without their thick accents. My family was very old, their native language being very near Dacian, now extinct in the outside world; although most spoke two or three other languages, as well. I had had no particular accent in my English, allowing for the slight bit of "Oxford," thanks to several English tutors, so I had no trouble intermingling, and conversing with the people I had met here in L.A. At an apparent eighteen years of age, I had met my two doctor friends in a rather exclusive club on Sunset Boulevard, near Hollywood. They had recognized me right away, no doubt due to my resemblance to my father, with whom they were acquainted, and they had asked me to join them. We became close friends, which I considered to be the best things in the world. That's why I had decided to save the boys; I knew my friends would help me. Doctors were in the business of saving lives. The doors to both bedrooms were open; and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small movement on one of the beds; I rushed to the bedside just as the boy opened his eyes. "I'm... alive," the boy mumbled. I ran to the fridge for a bottle of juice, pouring about four ounces into a glass. "Here, drink this, it will make you feel better," I told the boy. He had a surprised look on his face when he first tasted the liquid in the glass, but quickly finished it off. "Feel better, uh... what is your name?" I asked. "Jason, and wow, do I!" the boy answered. "What about Gary?" "Is that your friend's name?" I asked. "Yes, his name is really Garilson; but he goes by Gary." "He has not come awake yet, but soon..." "But, at least he is alive?" "Yes." The boy broke down, and began to cry. "Now, now," I said, trying to comfort him. "Things could have been a lot worse." "Things were a lot worse," Jason said in despair. "We had decided to run our bikes into the rocks, once and for all. But something happened; we collided with each other, and..." "You meant to have that accident?" I asked incredulously. "It wasn't meant to be an accident. We had decided the only solution to our problem was to be dead," Jason said. "Well, you will still have problems, but they will be different," I replied, not knowing exactly how to break the news to the boy. "Ugh..." "Gary, are you alright?" Jason called out. "Ugh...," Gary repeated. I moved to pour another glass of juice. "Here, drink this," I told him. "It will make you feel better." "It tastes strange at first, Gary, but drink it quickly," Jason advised. Jason sat up, drank the contents of the glass, then lay back down. "Yuck," he said. "I don't feel well." "I feel better," Jason reported. I gave Jason another half-glass, which he drank down. "What is that stuff?" "We call it `juice'," I said. "Crankcase juice?" Jason joked. "It's not really that bad, the second glass tasted a lot better." "It grows on you," I said, with a small chuckle. "Can I get a refill?" Gary asked. "Certainly," I said, handing him another half-glass. "It's not good to drink too much at one time," I counseled. "You were right, Jace," Gary said. "It did taste much better than the first glass." "It should always be drunk cold," I told them. "If you want to know yucky, just try it at room temperature." "Why don't we have any cuts or broken bones?" Gary asked. "Well, I don't know exactly how to tell you that. This is the first time I have needed to explain it to someone." "Try," Jason said. "I just know we had to have been torn up pretty badly. I remember looking at Gary, and knew we didn't have long to live. We had just hoped our deaths would be instantaneous." "But I happened along," I said. "and you asked me to please save you." "I remember that," Jason said. "So why is it that we have no scars, or broken bones?" "You are now vampires, or more technically Strigoij-viu," I said quietly. [STREE-goiz-VIEW - "z" as in azure (zh)] "Right!" Gary said, with a tone of disbelief. "Cool," Jason. "That juice, what is it?" "You will need to drink one glass of that every day for the rest of your lives," I advised them. "Is that all?" Gary asked. "You mean we don't have to bite people?" "Not any more," I told them. "Just one glass a day of juice will keep you healthy." "You mean we don't need to eat?" Jason asked. "You don't need to eat, but you can eat whatever, just like you did before," I added. "What was the other thing you said, after `vampire?'" "Strigoij-viu, it's a Romanian term for describing day-walking vampires who also have abilities as sorcerers," I replied. "You can go out in daylight, and pretty much live among regular humans, just as you did before. We're still vampires, though----most people would never understand the difference anyway----although regular vampires can't change into animals, like we can. There are other things we can do that vampires in general can't do. You will learn all about it." "Cool, but what will we do now? Our families have disowned us----thrown us out of our houses. We have no place to go," he complained. "Unfortunately, you two are too young to work," I told them. "We will probably be able to get small jobs for you to do----maybe as lifeguards or something. I.D.s are pretty easy to come by, if you have the connections; but you two would never pass for twenty-one," I told them. "As far as a place to live; I can arrange for you to have a room here. We are day-walkers; but most of the residents are not. They have night jobs, and stuff like that," I said. "You are saying we will never need to go around our so-called families again and will be living on our own, well, at least without our parents' interfering?" Gary asked, trying to clarify what I had said. "Totally," I replied. "Where, exactly, is here?" Jace asked. "Do you know where the Meditation Center is?" "Yes." "It is built on a site a bit southeast and above where we are now." "We are underground?" "Oh, yeah!" I replied. "Cool!" Jerry commented. "But how do we get in and out?" "There is a house in the hills. The entrance is through the basement," it is a short shuttle-car ride through a natural tunnel, I replied. "There is also an entrance to the Los Angeles Underground, a natural underground cave, where there are shops and a couple of arcades---- things for people like us." "Who lives in the house?" Gary asked. "No one at the moment, but since the three of us are day-walkers, we could live there, if you want," I replied. "We want," they answered together. "Actually, it's better that way. Some of the elders have been worried about living under an empty house; we can solve that for them," I offered. "Who owns the house," Gary asked. "My family," I replied. "We just have never gotten around to moving any furniture into it, inasmuch as I'm the only day-walker in my immediate family. Actually, we have a lot of stuff in storage in the warehouse district downtown. It would cut down a lot of our expenses to move the stuff to the house, and close the storage spaces. Utilities for the house would not cost nearly as much," I reasoned, "not that we actually need the money. A lot of commercial enterprises are controlled by my family and our relatives." The boys' clothes had been ruined by the wreck; and my clothes were too big for them. I wondered what we could do about it. "What happened to your stuff?" I asked. "Our fathers took our stuff to a friend's house. It is all in his back yard; we need to go and get it before there is a heavy rain--not that that is likely," Gary replied. "What will you tell them," I asked. "They are in México for a month," Jace replied. "No one would see us get it." I have an S-10 pickup, as luck would have it; and, with my sweats hanging like feed sacks on the two boys, we drove to the friends' house in Santa Monica. "This truck is cool, Adrian," Gary said. "What is it, a 2000 model?" "Close, it's a 2002," I replied. "It only has 3000 miles on it and is practically spotless. "Far-out paint job!" Jason replied. "I'm not responsible for that, it was a demo ad for a paint and body place in Riverside," I relayed. "The owner died and the whole place was liquidated. I got this truck for a real bargain. My father bought the place; and we took some of the vehicles--the S-10 for me, a LandRover for my father, and three others----limos, for two of my uncles, who own a chauffeuring service with my father." "Your whole family lives here?" Jason asked. "Yes, you will meet a few of them eventually; but don't expect them to be too warm and fuzzy. They were very upset with me over this," I told them, without revealing any of the details of my punishment. "You mean, because you saved us?" Gary asked cautiously. "Yes, we do not make others like us, ever. It is not allowed. If my father had not been who he is, I would have been executed," I revealed. "Gosh, you took quite a chance for us," Jason remarked. "Thanks." We found the house and loaded the truck. It was piled high; and we were lucky that I had some tie-downs, and a couple of tarps and ropes, to securely hold down the load. "You didn't tell me you had so much stuff," I said. "Is it a problem?" Jace asked. "Our folks are well-off; so we have lots of stuff. We're lucky that none of them wanted anything we had touched." "What, you have bubonic plague?" I asked, jokingly. "Uh... worse," Gary began. "We're together," Jerry said suddenly. "Like boyfriends. I hope that won't make a difference between us." "Cool, as you would say," I smiled at them. "We don't hold little things, like whom you love, against you." "I'm just sorry for our little brothers," Gary said suddenly. "You have little brothers?" I asked "Yeah, they are eleven years old," Jace informed me, "and both of them are gay, too." "They can't help it," I said. "Yeah, but they will have the same `row to hoe,' as my grandpa used to say, as far as our parents are concerned, " Gary added. "They are already having trouble in school," Jace offered. "Our parents don't have a clue about their little problem," Gary offered. "But when they find out----and they will----our brothers will be thrown out just like we were." "If, and when, that happens, we will let them live with us," I offered. "We would have to tell them, though." "What do you think they are doing now?" Gary asked. "We could go to find out," I suggested. "Yeah, we can like, just walk up to the school, and ask to see them," Gary scoffed. "The school has probably been instructed to keep us away from them." "They don't have to see us," I told them. "Huh?" Gary grunted. "You guys haven't been around long enough to know some of the really cool benefits of your present condition. We can do things," I told them. "Do what things?" Jace asked. "Oh, become invisible, teleport, mind-speak, use mind control, glamour, fascinate----just to name a few little things," I said, with a smirk. "Little things?" Gary gasped. "You mean we can do things like that?" "When you learn how," I responded. "The thing is, I don't know how to teach you; and no one is allowed to help me. But don't worry, we'll figure it out." "What are glamour and fascinate. I mean, I know what the words mean; but what do you mean?" Gary asked. "Well, you can disguise yourself; and you can persuade people to think or act like you want them to act or think. It's mind control," I replied. "What do we have to do?" Jace asked. "I just think to myself that I want to be invisible," I answered. "It's official name is disparition; like, you're still here, but invisible. Suddenly, I was invisible. "Radical!" Jace exclaimed. I reappeared. "In the same way, I would just think where I want to be----and be there. Of course, if you haven't been to that someplace before, it is risky. I've been told you could materialize in the middle of a big rock, or something. I don't know if that is true; but, you need to be fully familiar with your destination," I instructed. "That's called disapparition, which is to say your body is broken down to atomic level for teleportation purposes." There was a look of detached concentration on both their faces; and they both disappeared. "It didn't work," Jace said. "Yes, it did," I replied. "You can't see us?" "No, but I can see your auras." "Oh gods! How many times I have wished to be able to do this. Most people don't know what an aura is," Gary waxed enthusiastic at his discovery. "Well, now we can go to the school?" Jace asked. "If you can recall exactly where to materialize, or to apparate, as it is called," I replied. "At the flagpole," he said. "I will go with you guys, since I have never been there. When we get there, stay invisible. We might need to go through an inspection or something," I advised. Chapter 3 -- Things Happen Harrigan Middle School Santa Monica Breckenridge Middle School Venice We were walking down the hall, when Gary saw his brother, backed up against the wall, with a huge lug bearing down on him. "I d-d-don't have any money!" Russell squealed. The giant creep drew back his fist and started to bash the boy in the face. I stepped between them and knocked the basher aside, and down a flight of stairs, and said in a booming voice, "The next time you so much as look at him, I will kill you." "Who said that?" the bruiser shouted, as he turned, and ran from the scene. "Hello?" Russell said to no one in particular. We apparated, so that Russell could see us. "Gary! Where have you been?" We grabbed him and zapped into the restroom, which was vacant. "You can't say anything about this, Russell," Gary warned. "Nothing. You must never tell Mom and Dad that you saw me, ever; but I will be watching out for you." "Gary, I'm so sorry for what happened to you. Your bike was found off the Pacific Coast Highway; they traced it through the license bureau and found out it was yours. We already had your memorial service, Jace's, too." "That's just as well," I said. "They can't go home, anyway." "Who are you?" the boy asked, already having scoped me out appraisingly from top to bottom. "A friend. We live at his place now. I'll show you sometime," Gary told him. "Now we have to go. Why aren't you in class?" "We have a free period, and I was going to the bathroom when Goliath caught me," the boy answered. "I hope you didn't mess yourself," Jace joked. "I was just going to pull it," Russell replied with a cute grin. "Remember what I have told you. No one can know you saw me. Well, you could tell Mikey, but no one else," Gary said. "We are going to see him now," I told the kid. "Later, then," Russell said, as we disappeared. "Cool," Russell said quietly, to himself. Mikey was in gym class, where we witnessed what they were calling basketball. It consisted of badgering Mikey, mostly. Two of the "jocks" had him cornered just outside the restroom. "So if you don't do a good job, we'll have to fuck you," the bigger boy was saying. They jerked Mikey into the boys' room and began taking off their pants. Mikey was "shaking like a cat shittin' peach seeds," as my grandpa used to say; only he said it in Romanian. Without apparating, I tossed both boys to the wall, held them six feet from the floor, and took their pants. "The next time, I will take your balls!" I said in a loud voice. We grabbed Mikey and apparated just outside the door. "What... Jace!" Mikey cried, jumping onto his brother, who caught him in the air. "Mikey," Jace said. "You can't say anything about seeing me, to anyone except Russ. We just saw him." "You can't ever come home, Jace," Mikey wailed. "Dad will kill you!" "That's O.K., I live with Adrian, here--so does Gary. If anything bad happens to you at home, I will be watching. You can always come to stay with me, if Dad throws you out," he told the boy. "We have to go now, but I will contact you again before long. You can talk to Russell." "Bye," Mikey said, as we disappeared. "Wow!" Mikey said to himself. "Russell!" the man shouted. "Yes, Dad?" "Why are you so jumpy today; you've been walking around like a zombie for a week, now." "I'm not jumpy, Dad," Russ answered. "You're fuckin' jumpy," the man insisted. "I had a good day at school, that's all," Russ explained. "What does `a good day at school' mean?" the man asked, mockingly. "I didn't get stuffed into a trash can; and nobody threw my lunch tray in the trash, either," Russell replied. "If you weren't such a wimp, things like that wouldn't happen to you," the man needled. "Are we through?" Russ asked. He knew he was taking a big chance, but he was sick of being badgered by his father every single day. The man rushed to him and threw him across the room. "You fuckin' little pansy, I'll teach you to get smart with me," he threatened, closing on the boy. Suddenly, the man was knocked across the room, out cold. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time," Garilson said, materializing by Russell with a baseball bat in his hand. "It's about time that S.O.B. got a taste of his own medicine. Where's Mom?" "Gone on a spa-cruise with Mikey's mother. Gary, Dad will kill me now." Garilson grabbed him and they disappeared. "So I guess it didn't go well for the two of you," I said, when Gary and Russ appeared--Gary still holding the bat. "I guess you could say that; but I got a home run," Gary said, swinging the bat. "I hope you didn't kill him," Russ said cautiously. "Why? What has he ever done for you, except brow-beat you?" "Nothing. I just don't want you to get into trouble." "What? They're going to be looking for a dead guy?" Gary replied. "What's for supper?" "We can get pizza or Chinese take-out," I offered. "Pizza," Russ said. Mikey was ordered into their garage under duress. His father was demanding that he help work on the car, which made it handier for the man to torment him. "But, Dad, I have a ton of homework to do. I will just barely have time to do it before bedtime, as it is." "You little shit, if I tell you to help work on this car, that's what you're going to fuckin' do," his father said, throwing a heavy wrench at him. When he saw he had missed, he picked up a golf club and started to swing it at Mikey's head. Then, as Mikey watched wide-eyed, the overhead chain-lift came down, wrapped around his dad's ankle and began to lift him upside down until he was hanging six feet from the floor." "Work on this, you stupid fuck!" a loud voice said. Mikey disappeared, while his dad was watching. They arrived at the house just moments after Gary had come in with Russ. "Make that three pizzas," I said to Gary. "What happened to you two?" Russ asked. "Mom has gone with your mom on a spa-cruise for a month; and I was left alone with Dad. He was 'dadding it up' and Jace rescued me. We left him hanging by his ankle from the chain-lift," Mikey told them. "Those two need to be locked up together," Gary said, referring to their fathers. "Maybe they would like that," I said sarcastically. "You think?" Jason asked. "Are they friends?" I asked. "Yeah, but they don't have much of a chance to get together any more," Jason said. "They work different hours than they once did; but they still talk on the phone a lot----in private." "Interesting," I said. "Who wants to go to Disneyland for the weekend?" "We do!" they all yelled. Bright and early the next morning----after our juice---- we zapped ourselves to Disneyland, passing by a booth to lift six two-day passes, and materialized in an alley off Main Street. We tried our best to cover everything we wanted to see and do, but the crowds were pretty bad. As it was, it took most of a half-hour for each of the rides we wanted to try. By the time the day was over, we were all beat. We had eaten a lot of stuff we shouldn't have; and at least one of us felt like shit. We zapped back to the house, showered and hit the sack. Mutually, we decided right then and there, that we would not get up early to return to the theme park, but just go when we felt like it. It wasn't as though we couldn't do this whenever we wanted.