There's a spot off the 101 right past Ventura my buddies and I like to surf. The best waves come early, as in 5 am early. There are no beginners or tourists at Mondo Beach at 5 am.
There's always traffic in California. I zoned out during my short drive from downtown to Mondo. I left the strategically placed downtown view and headed north. My eyes glazed over the palm trees that lined the streets. They were skinny like shoelaces and they all drooped to one side. I zeroed out on my exit and passed the beach houses. I rolled up to the sand. The tide was coming in right on time. Sam was already eyeing the prize.
"Bro, lookin' tight out there today, yeah?"
"Sure does. Let's get."
I unhooked my board from the rack I rigged on my old Passport. It would only be a matter of days before the rusty screws broke. We jogged to the edge of the water and went our separate ways into the salty waves. The water was cold and it opened my eyes. It only seemed like I'd hit a few waves when my watch alarm buzzed at 8:30. I sat on my board and paddled toward the sand.
"Gotta jet already dude?"
"Yeah. Already 8:30, I got work today."
"Shit bro. I'm off."
"Later Sam."
Sam would never get off his board if he didn't have to. We'd met in high school and both took the easy route to Ventura College just to get out without hearing it from our parents. I worked near school at a board shop in the mornings. It was an okay gig, made some money and I got cheap boards. I got there around 9 and like clockwork, I got The Glare from Julia probably because I, like usual, had come straight from the beach.
"Jules, this is a surf shop...that's what we do."
"I don't. I at least washed myself before I showed up."
"Tomorrow J, I'll clean up for you. Think it'll bring up sales babe?"
"Fuck off Trevor. Don't shower. Be disgusting. The tourists love it."
She sighed and pretended to be pissed. Julia was a freshman who moved west from Utah and didn't understand a damn thing. But she felt cool to work near the beach around "real-life-surfer-dudes" or whatever she told her glittery poser posse.
Around two o'clock, Sam showed up at the shop. He looked beyond the tourist women in their bikinis and shuffled toward the counter.
"Let's go out to Hollywood tonight, man."
"What the fuck for?"
"Dengue Fever at The Knitting Factory."
"Sam, you and your indie-tunes."
"Yeah yeah, you'll dig it. C'mon."
"You owe me."
"Sure. You'll see."
That night we caught the red line to Hollywood and Highland. We stepped out into the air into the tourist trap of the boulevard; Mann's Chinese Theatre and the Walk of Fame.
"I'm serious Trev, you're gonna dig it."
"Okay I'm here, we'll see man."
Sam was always seeing new bands and following old ones. He'd bounce from group to group, finding a short-term niche and then migrate. Despite its locale, The Knitting Factory wasn't a place for tourists. It was a home of small, local bands, and fairly cheap liquor. Once we got in the door, I could smell weed.
"Sam, is this them already?"
"No dude, no. You'll know."
Sam acted like I was about to be blown away; that I should recognize Dengue Fever as if they were Aerosmith. The lights flickered and the crowd screamed.
"Finally."
"Just chill out Trev."
The stage was plagued with Dengue Fever; a band consisting of four white dudes and one Asian girl, the singer. Drums, a saxophone, and a few guitars-they had their bases covered. Her voice lurched forward into a high squeal. She wasn't singing in English, but the crowd knew her words.
"What is this?"
"Cambodian Rock. Wicked, huh?"
She was beautiful, like no other girl I'd seen in LA. She looked real; she smiled. Her black hair was soft and her shoulders were bare. The front half of the crowd had climbed onto the stage to dance with her. Sam had his head down, wobbling to one of the beats.
As the show ended, people threw flowers on stage.
"What's with the flowers?"
Sam didn't answer. The guy behind me stepped up.
"Is this your first Dengue Fever experience?"
I nodded.
"In Cambodia, it's a sign of appreciation and respect to give flowers."
I didn't know shit about Cambodia.
"I raise money for a children's shelter over there."
I nodded again, confused as ever.
Someone pushed by us, rushing Jager shots toward the stage.
"Char thinks Jager makes her voice sound better."
I wanted to meet her. I followed the shots.
She hopped off the stage onto the floor and smiled at the shots. I couldn't help but stare as she downed them. She saw me standing there and picked up a shot.
"For you babe?"
"No thanks, it's all you."
"I see. The show? You saw?"
"Yep. First time."
She laughed. "Come with me."
Her band mates stuffed bags of weed in their jean pockets and shuffled behind her. I searched for Sam, but didn't see him. She grabbed my hand, hard, and pulled me toward the door. My watch said it was nearly 2 am.
"Oh no. No time."
"No time for what?"
She pulled on my watch and unhooked it from my wrist. I watched as she slid the clock into her white pants' pocket.
"Come with me."
I didn't want to leave Sam. I really wanted to get home and sleep until the surf came. But she was buzzing like a Hollywood tourist, running to see the famous white letters. I wondered about her.
We walked to a small alley behind the store to an old bus. She was still grasping my hand, hard. The guys piled in and she pulled me forward.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see. Come."
"Hey, you don't even know my name."
"What is your name then?"
"Trevor."
"Ok Trevor. Come."
"How will I get back in time for the tide?"
"Time. There's plenty of time."
There really wasn't. I guess I'd have to call Sam once I figured out where we were going. I knew LA inside and out, she couldn't fool me. The van jumped onto the 405 going south toward Long Beach. It was a long drive from LA to Long Beach, but I was still curious and she was still holding my hand. We puttered along the freeway until we exited at Junipero Avenue. We were far from my house; far from Mondo Beach. The streets were four lanes wide and the hanging signs weren't English.
"First time?"
"Yeah. Where are we?"
"Near my home. You'll come over."
My eyes were wide. I was tired and unsure, but her smile was inviting. I wanted to stay with her.
There's a place South of LA near Long Beach known as Cambodia Town. The main drag, Atlantic Avenue, is packed with foreign cuisine and fabric shops. The suburbs around the area hide thousands of free-spirited Cambodians, Char included.
Her house was tiny, scattered, and eccentric. There were drapes and candles and she kept the doors open. There were Jager bottles instead of clocks, takeout cartons instead of furniture.
I was intrigued. Why did she bring me here? Did she always bring Dengue virgins home? A large part of me didn't care. I laid next to her in a mess of pillows. She smelled like black licorice. I was too tired to ask her about herself and too tired to wonder what would happen tomorrow.
I awoke later to find myself alone. I smelled food and pulled myself up. There was Char, milling about in a kitchen with eggs and fruit. I knew it had to be lunchtime, but she still had my watch. She smiled at me.
"Where'd everyone else go last night?"
"Maybe home. Their families."
"No shit? What made you bring me here?"
She shrugged. "Didn't you stay?"
"I was curious I guess."
"Let's go?"
"Like where?"
"The Valley, maybe?"
"I should probably start toward Ventura..."
"For what? The surfer men? The dudes as you say?" She laughed.
"Yeah the dudes and the chicks." I wanted to hate her for laughing at me, but I couldn't. I was happy with her joke, even if it was on me.
"Come with me today."
I never hesitated to follow her. The more I went for it, the more fun we had. The more she laughed, the more I wanted. She pulled me to Thai eateries and small jewelry shops. We'd get on the metro and stop at new places; places I never thought to go. I felt free.
After what seemed like three days, I rode the blue line 20 stops north toward Ventura. Although the two places were minutes away, I felt like it was worlds apart.
Sam was worse than a policeman. He teamed up with Julia to interrogate me about where I'd been. I didn't know how long I'd been gone. I told them everything. Julia was her stupid self and told me I needed to find someone more responsible to hang out with. Sam let off after I told him the truth.
"She is hot dude," he said.
"Well it's not even that."
"But you missed some good waves."
Sam never let anything come between him and the water. But that was him.
"I wasn't trying to ditch out on you. I just wanted to see where we'd go."
"It's cool dude. But you know those Cambodians are on their own time, all the time."
"Yeah, she is like that, but I think I like it."
Sam sighed. "5 am tomorrow. Don't ditch out, fucker."
"I'll be there."
I crashed after we talked so I could wake up and surf. I slept hard and just left the house when I opened my eyes. Sam wasn't there, but I didn't know what time it was. The sun was still sleeping. I sat in the sand and heard movement behind me.
Char.
"What are you doing here?"
"Came to see you, do this thing you tell me. What is it, dude?" She laughed again.
"You have practice today?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Show tonight. You'll come?"
"I probably need to work. What time?"
She shook her head.
She messed me up. I liked myself with Char. But I felt like she could hold me, but I could never touch her. I was still intrigued, but wondered if I could survive in her world. I felt freed by her spirit, but constrained by the clocks I needed.
But she was beautiful. I never asked her about love or men she knew. We didn't talk about money. We didn't talk on the phone.
I went to every show I could and would follow her into the night afterward. When I wasn't working, I caught the metro to Atlantic to her house. Most of the time, she was never there, but I would wait for her. I didn't want to leave her world. I didn't want to leave her. But I didn't know where I fit in.
Char would have to do it on her own time.