Five for Forever by Alex Ames

now.”
    “Indian for the first date. Courageous. Where had you met?”
    “Borders Bookstore on Santa Monica’s Third Street. I had moved here for a boatbuilding job and had browsed the section on boats. The architecture section was right beside it, and we kind of stumbled on each other. She commented on the big picture book I had been browsing, something along the lines of ‘Isn’t that boat out of your league?’ Typical pickup line. And I fell hook, line, and sinker. Right there on the spot.”
    “May I ask how she died?”
    “An accident shortly after Dana’s birth. Bella was an architect at a big construction firm here in Oxnard. While she was at a building site, a steel cable on one of the crane’s snapped, and its load smashed onto the office container, killing four people. Bella among them.”
    “That is terrible! Was anyone at fault?”
    “There was a trial where they tried to prove that the cable manufacturer had neglected quality procedures, but it was a pretty weak case. In the end, the cable company paid some compensation. But it wasn’t too much, especially after the lawyers had taken their share. Went straight into the college fund for the kids.”
    Louise saw Rick’s pain and put her hand on his. He retracted his quickly, as if she had shocked him. “Sorry, my mistake, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
    “That’s okay. It is part of my story now,” Rick said, his eyes roaming the room.
    Louise looked around. “Listen. Shouldn’t we go somewhere else? A place without ghosts?”
    Rick swallowed. “This might be difficult, as we roamed most of the coast.”
    “Then we roam until we find our place.”
    Louise got up, and even though she was overdone and under a wig, men looked at her, as if unable to place that exotic lady. She was able to hide her face or body but never was able to hide her radiance, acting or not.
     
    “We’ll take your car,” Louise commanded, and they head toward the old Chrysler minivan. Floris was drifting behind them, entering the Tahoe.
    “Probably not your usual ride,” Rick said.
    “Don’t worry about me. My normal ride is a midlevel Lexus, good enough for me as most of the time I have a service taking me to the studio or events. My bodyguard Floris insists on some more horsepower and protection, so he follows in the big black monster.” She looked around at the many kid modifications, from bumper stickers on the doors and leftover kids’ books to Happy Meal toys. “So this is suburbia,” she said.
    “Toward town?”
    “No, I have an idea.”
    Louise directed him to a big beach parking lot that on a Sunday evening had only few remaining cars, mostly surfers, judging from the spare boards attached to the roof carriers. At the far end of the lot, overlooking the ocean and surrounded by some camping chairs and desks, stood a taco van under yellow sodium light. Three surfers, still in neoprenes, hugged in thick hoodies, sat around a cheap plastic table. They gave them a glance but continued their conversation.
    “Now, this is your standard?” Rick teased.
    “Little escapes.” They left the car. “Señor, anything left?”
    The little Mexican cook nodded, pointed at the card sign, and gave off a machine-gun worth of words. Louise nodded. “Chicken and pork are out. Tuna and beef remain.”
    “Tuna taco?” Rick was doubtful. “I’ll have the beef one. With everything. And a beer.”
    Louise replied in more in Spanish, of which Rick only understood the universal words Corona and Diet Coke .
    The Mexican cook came with both their tacos wrapped in wax paper and presented them. Louise pulled two camping chairs with them to the end of the parking lot and Rick carried food and beverages.
    “What’s on yours?” Rick asked, taking a first bite.
    “Special order, vegetarian, extra hot jalapeños, extra hot special sauce. I had been prepared for Indian food, remember?”
    “How fitting!”
    “You mean fussy and special?”
    “I meant extra hot!”