“Nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. DeVille. If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to talk to you both. I know it’s late, or early. Either way, would you meet me in the office in say, 10 minutes?”
Charlie and Denice glanced at each other and silently agreed, then looking at Mr. Hamoudi, Charlie added, “Okay, how about 15 minutes?”
“Good as gold,” said Mr. Hamoudi.
While getting dressed back at the room, Denice asked, “What do you think this is all about?”
“I don’t have the foggiest idea,” said Charlie. “But it can’t be good, who knows what crazy shit that weird beard is gonna come at us with.”
They dressed quickly, being quiet so as not to wake the clients. They were out the door, down the stairs and standing in front of the office door in less than 15 minutes.
Just as Charlie started to knock the door swung open and the smiling, bearded face of Mr. Hamoudi appeared.
“Marhaba. Hello to you both. Please come in, come in.”
Looking around inside the apartment behind the desk, there, standing next to a candle lit shrine of some kind, was a beautiful woman in a yellow, chiffon Sari. Her bright white smile radiated on her dark cinnamon colored face.
“Welcome,” she said through that smile.
“Thank you,” Denice replied as she and Charlie entered the room.
Mr. Hamoudi pointed to a couch and said, “Please, sit down, relax yourselves.”
They sat down but Charlie was anxious, not at all relaxed or comfortable.
Since Mrs. Al-Beduls name was all but unpronounceable, Mr. Hamoudi offered, “This is my wife Anna, and I am called Ham, short for Hamoudi-Al-Beduls.”
They shook hands while Charlie introduced himself and his wife. Anna asked, “Would you like some tea?”
Charlie and Denice accepted and Anna left the room for the kitchen. By way of explanation for this late night meeting, Ham spoke first. “Let me tell you a story so that you’ll understand why we’re here,” Ham said, pointing to the coffee table and making a little circular motion. “My family is from the fertile crescent, the South Plains of Jordan. We are descendants of nomadic Bedouin tribes and Christians.” Anna returned and Ham took the tea service from her and set it on the table. As Anna began to serve, he continued. “My wife is Hindu, she’s from India, and she’s the flower of my existence.” He shot a smile in her direction. “We met in San Diego at the Asian American Hotel Owners Association Convention. But this story is about me and my family. My mother, father, myself and two brothers came to the United States in a sea-container, smuggled in.”
Those words, smuggled in, hung in the air thick as hookah smoke. Everyone made eye contact in the awkward silence. The only sound came from Anna pouring tea from an ornate Middle Eastern tea service. Denice’s eye zeroed in on the scrolled etching on the bell-shaped strainer as Anna pulled it from the pot.
Ham looked directly into Charlie’s stunned face and said, “I will spare you the horrors of the days at sea, the loss of my Father’s legs.” Ham closed his eyes, shook his head, as if going back in time behind his eyelids. “Immigration has so many faces, had we stayed, we might have starved and suffered as most of our tribal villages did.”
Charlie’s mind was racing. Where was this going? Who was this guy? Was he a Cop? FBI? Shit. I got clients in this motel.
“My wife and I are one hundred percent American, but have not forgotten where we came from or how we got here.” Ham brought the tea cup to his lips, pinky extended, looked over the top of his cup at Charlie and asked, “How many Mexicans this time?”
Charlie with a deadpan expression on his face replied, “Eight adults.”
“I noticed you do not hide them.”
“I asked them to duck down when we passed your office,” explained Charlie.
With a knowing smile, Ham countered, “We have cameras Charlie. Let me ask a question, did you know that Indian-Americans own over half the motels in this country?”
“No, I did not.”
“My wife’s own extended family owns sixteen franchised motels from San Diego to Fresno.
Charlie was all ears, but bouncing around inside his cranium was, If the border patrol had surrounded this office, they’d be in handcuffs by now.
Ham sat back slowly in his easy chair, tilted his leonine mane and asked. “Would it be of service to you to have prepaid locations to temporarily house your immigrants?”
Denice turned her head towards her husband to gage his reaction to this totally unexpected question. Charlie exhaled loudly, smiled broadly and tried unsuccessfully not to show the shock and surprise he felt as the possibilities tumbled into his mind.
“Ham, few things would be of more service. Prepaid? Let’s talk numbers.”
Denice went to the kitchen with Anna to brew more tea and heat up some pastries. Little triangles of deliciousness with figs, dates, honey, and cinnamon inside. They talked and ate, discussed arrangements to be made with Ramona. They traded stories and laughed. When the evening came to an end, Charlie and Denice were given the room next to #38 and were going to try for some shuteye before the sun came up.
Lying in bed like lovers often do, too excited by the night’s festivities and the strong tea to sleep, Charlie staring at the ceiling said, “Hamoudi sure is a cool guy.”
“I thought you said he was a weird beard?”
“That was before I knew his story and how much we have in common, but what makes him cool, in my book, is the difference. The bedouin thing.”
Sarcastically Denice said, “So the camel jockey crap is over?” As she rolled onto her side facing Charlie.
“Man that guy has seen some stuff. His stories are heart-wrenching. I think he’s trying to give back, pay forward.”
Denice murmured in his ear, “Anna is Hindu, she says it’s a Karma thing, religion is so much a part of their life. Did you see the crucifix over the shrine?”
“Yeah, at first I thought it was creepy. But after knowing them a few hours, the two blended like a mango Margarita.”
Denice pulled the covers over her shoulders.
“Anna invited us to dinner at Moon Over Tunis, after the drop.”
With a lecherous smile, Charlie offered, “Ham says they have belly dancers between entries.”
“Your new best friend, huh?”
“Like I said, he’s a cool guy, and just so you know, he rocks that beard.”
In the twilight of sleep, just before falling away, Charlie regretfully wondered about the backstories of people he’d met and dismissed, labeling as cultural inferiors. He thought to himself, life happens so fast. People come and go like so many falling stars. I guess I only scrape the surface before passing judgment. It seems...superficial. Am I lazy? Just being shallow? What do I really know about Ron and Lily? Or, for that matter, Wiley and Julio? And then, as if another voice entered the conversation, Charlie heard in the back of his thoughts, Charlie, you need to slow your roll, son. Put away the label-maker, and make time to dig a little deeper.
Charlie was exhausted. But his last thought that carried him off to sleep was this: I should spend more time with Valentino. Ask him where Croatia is.
-- -- --
The group was up and loaded before dawn. However, rush hour was not a good time to run, unless everyone was hidden from sight. People are generally nosy, and with the advent of cell phones there are plenty of wanna-be private dicks in L.A., willing to call in their slightest suspicions.
The outlet mall was not busy at 8:00 a.m. Ramona was in a red Chevy pickup. She knew where every single camera was located. The big Ford pulled in along with the Solara, in which Woody and Esperance were cuddling and laughing.
Ramona came to the window of Charlie’s truck, at the passenger side, “Tell Mr. Elwood to join me in my truck, and Espy, too. No
w.”
Denice hit the radio, “Ramona wants to talk to you guys. In her truck, chop, chop.”
“Okay,” Elwood complied. The couple walked briskly to the Silverado, and got in. Ramona, sat in the driver’s seat. “Espy, your uncle is here for you. Right over there,” she pointed at a Ford Ranger.
“Yes, Ramona.”
Elwood looked Ramona right in the eye, “I want to marry her. I’m gonna make her a citizen. I love her.”
“Mr. Elwood, you’ve only known her for two days.”
“I know what I know.”
Ramona stared into Elwood’s eyes until she bore into his soul. Yet he did not look away. She then turned her gaze at Esperanza. The young girl respected Ramona, but she also did not back down by looking away. Ramona sighed. “Well then, who am I to question?”
“I have her family’s phone number,” said Elwood. “She gave it to me.”
Esperanza leaned forward and got Ramona’s attention. In Spanish, she told her, “He put his life on the line for me. He cares deeply for me, and he’s the cutest redneck I’ve ever seen.”
Ramona smiled. “Okay, mija. Go to your uncle.”
Esperanza kissed Elwood quickly, and whispered to him, “Call me tonight. I will talk to my aunt and uncle. As long as I go to school, they will not care.”
“Tonight then, at eight o’clock.” Elwood hugged his beauty and then watched her get out of the truck and run to her family.
The rest of the clients were delivered to their families, one by one, punctuated by plenty of handshakes and thank yous all around. As usually happens, a kind of bond develops. An unspoken camaraderie evolves when a group arrives intact from a dangerous situation.
“Let’s all go to the food court and get some breakfast,” Ramona suggested, knowing that everyone must be starving.
Once inside the mall, Ramona handed Charlie $4,000.
In turn, Charlie compensated Elwood accordingly. “Woody, here’s an extra bit for your troubles.” Charlie handed the young man $500.
“Thanks, boss. I’m gonna go look for a ring.” Elwood turned, winked at Denice, and took off, disappearing into the crowd.
Charlie, Denice, and Ramona continued on to Panda Express, where they sat down at a table, away from the other customers.
“You were lucky this time. But this kind of shit must be avoided at all costs,” Ramona scolded.
“Woody made a split-second decision, and I stand by it one-hundred percent,” Charlie stated with conviction.
“I understand your loyalty, Charlie, but it invites scrutiny and pisses them off. Badly.”
Charlie knew whom Ramona meant by “them” but he didn’t care. “Screw ‘em,” he retorted.
Denice chimed in, “Charlie, don’t be rude.”
“Sorry, Ramona. Look, those assholes don’t care whether or not anyone reunites their family. But I do. No one got hurt. Again, I stand by Woody.”
Ramona sat back in her chair, tucked her hair behind her ear with two fingers, and stared at Charlie without a word. She seemed to study him as if she’d just met him. She looked at Denice. “You are a lucky woman. I tease him about being the funny man, but you’ve got to respect his loyalty.” She turned back to Charlie. “I’m glad we’re on the same side. Talk to Woody, tell him that shit is the last option. Can we agree on that?”
“Absolutely. I can’t afford $500 bonuses.”
“Think he’ll really marry her?” Ramona asked.
Denice quickly piped in. “He seems very serious, no?”
“Maybe they’ll make a good team.”
“In more ways than one,” Charlie said.
POOLSIDE PARADISE, PALM SPRINGS
Chapter 23
Nea’s trailer was a perfect fit. It was close to the action, yet far enough from danger. She and her little man, Brandt, were protected in many ways that she didn’t understand or even know about. Mom and Dad had all kinds of family friends and partners on the mountain, known as The Network. Charlie was a favor-trader. If you were in need – and the DeVilles had it – everyone shared.
Valentino was a regular dinner guest. He did not go hungry. He did not need to ask. Thus, Valentino kept his eyes open and his ears alert, without being asked. If Nea needed diapers, and the store was open, her bill was always paid. Ron never asked. The circle of life on the mountain takes care of its own.
No one here is innocent. No one asks and no one tells. Strange are the ties that bind.
-- -- --
Their new home was tucked under two huge white oak trees. When the wind blew, you could hear the acorns hit the roof. With a fenced-in yard around back, “His Nibbs” could dig as many holes as his little plastic shovel could manage.
Charlie and Denice felt a sense of relief to have their daughter and grandson out of El Cajon, and under the watchful eye of The Network. Their middle daughter, Becky, and her husband, Allen, had moved their family to Atlanta. As in most long distance relationships it was tough for Charlie and Denice. They missed their four grandchildren from Becky immensely, more so since their youngest, Crissy, was away at School in Texas. Even though the tribe was scattered. Denice kept her motherly instincts somewhat sedated. Somewhat.
Sometimes she’d just burst out in tears, complaining to Charlie how much she missed everyone. And of course, there was the ever-present burden of Grandma being a human trafficker, facing the constant possibility of federal imprisonment. That was sometimes a struggle for her to deal with, as well.
Good thing she had her Charlie. He had more reasons to justify their behavior than he could store in his head. And if that wasn’t enough, he would turn on the charm and she’d be laughing and crying all at the same time. Sensory overload.
But if all else failed? Room service. Cheesecake. And an hour’s worth of appropriately placed French kisses. Her husband knew exactly where Denice’s love button was located, and he was never afraid to push it repeatedly.
-- -- --
While Nea nested and dodged Rudolfo, Charlie and Denice stopped in Palm Springs on the way back from L.A., and enjoyed a much-needed vacation.
Elwood asked for time off to chill in Ventura with Esperanza’s uncle, nicknamed Shmooz. Elwood hoped to seal the deal on his impending marital bliss, or at the very least, get a thumbs-up from her family.
In the Latino culture, this process is still done the old-fashioned way. Family is the most important aspect of their day-to-day lives. It matters not the color of your skin, but the depth of your love and ability to support your family – Woody’s current occupation being a point in his favor. If you’re in love with a Latina, like Woody was, you respect the elders of the family. You gain their trust. You go to church and the gathering afterwards. There’s no pulling up to the curb and honking your horn, waiting for their little princess to run out to your car.
Hispanic families are tight, loyal, and proud. They take courting seriously. Elwood, with his country charm and good manners, combined with deep love for Esperanza, would be just fine.
-- -- --
Palm Springs is paradise. On a spring evening, Palm Avenue is a hip place to play in the So-Cal desert. The Black Iron Mountains that tear through the dusty floor host palm trees and desert flowers, snapdragons and California poppies.
Palm Springs boasts many little bistros, with small tables on the sidewalk. Their awnings overhead spray a continuing mist into the hot evening air. The smell of Italian, French, and Indian cuisine mixed with fresh baked bread and expensive perfume wafts through the air, enticing everyone’s sense of smell to come dine with the beautiful people.
Every hotel has at least four tennis courts, and the swimming pools are extravagant and huge. Saunas are standard. Jacuzzis are a must. People who live in Palm Springs always seem to look sexy as hell, even at 70.
That�
��s because Palm Springs is a money town. Its world-class golf courses were started by old money. Sammy Davis, Jr., Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and celebs like Merv Griffin and Sonny Bono made sure it became a scene. Drive an hour from Hollywood in your drop-top Mercedes to where the stars come to golf, tan, shop, and hide. They lay cucumbers over their eyelids and submerge their thighs in mud. In its hey-day, it was also an awesome place to chase pussy. Apparently.
-- -- --
Charlie and Denice weren’t golfers or tennis aficionados. But bring on the saunas, Jacuzzis, and massage tables.
Looking drop-dead gorgeous in her white, string bikini and her head-to-toe-tan, Denice tested the water with the tip of her manicured toe.
Charlie, wearing a pair of dated Ocean Pacific shorts, watched her through a pair of wrap-around Ray-Ban sunglasses.
The Palm Springs Marriott was a four-star hotel. Just hold out your champagne glass, and find it magically filled by one of the beautiful service people who do hot laps around the massive pool looking for juicy tips.
The afternoon sun felt delicious on Denice’s skin, and Charlie had just slathered her with a tasty layer of cocoa butter lotion. It made her smell like a Piña Colada.
She returned the favor and said, “You are a lean, mean running machine, Mr. Charlie DeVille.”
“I am that. Yes.”
“What else are you?”
“In love with you.”
“Right back at you, man-candy.”
Charlie looked seductively at his woman. “If the candy melts in the sun, will you lick me off the chair?”
“No way, that’s like ABC gum,” Denice giggled.
Nothing like an intelligent conversation to keep love alive.
-- -- --
Charlie and Denice swam to the Tiki Bar next to the waterfall, where they sat on submerged barstools.
“Two red trollies, please,” commanded Charlie.
The crystal-blue water was at chest-height, while they soaked at the bar.
Charlie wondered, “You suppose someone designed these stools so the water would tickle your nipples?”
Jacumba Connection Page 18