“I am actually the one exploiting him,” Elsa replied, deadpan. “He actually thinks that this is his house. He actually pays me money to live here in my home. Part of the deal is that he gets to sleep here too—on occasion anyway. I’m working on that.”
Gordon chuckled. “I might have to write me a rap song about this shit,” he said. “And how are those two grandkids of yours?”
This was Elsa’s favorite subject to discuss and she became quite animated, telling Gordon all about the latest exploits of Gerald and Delilah, both of whom she was justifiably quite proud of. Delilah was now a junior at USC, her major: biology, her plan to apply for medical school once her degree was awarded. Gerald would be graduating from high school in only one more week, salutatorian of his class and already accepted with a partial academic scholarship to UCLA, where he planned to major in computer technology.
“A good school, UCLA,” said Neesh with approval. “That’s where I got my graduate degree in Business.”
“It’s one of the best,” Elsa agreed. “And he wouldn’t be able to do it without Jake.”
“Oh?” Gordon asked. “How’s that?”
“Jake is picking up the cost of his college expenses that aren’t covered by the scholarship,” Elsa said. “He’s been doing the same for Delilah. It’s a godsend, really. They don’t have to work to get by because of that, and because the schools are local, they can stay with their parents and not pay the housing costs.”
Gordon looked at him with new respect. “You’re seriously doing that shit, Jake?” he asked. “Putting a brother and a sister through college?”
“I’m just helping out a little,” Jake said, embarrassed by his good deed. He would have preferred it if Elsa had not mentioned it. “They did the hard part, getting themselves into those schools in the first place. I just wanted to make sure they could live up to their potential.”
“That’s very generous of you, Jake,” Neesh told him.
“Goddamn,” Gordon said, shaking his head in wonder. “Just when we start to think we should send all you whitey mofos back to Europe, one of y’all goes and does something like that.”
They ate Elsa’s tacos a few minutes later, washing them down with another pitcher of the potent margaritas. Elsa, as usual, refused to sit at the table with them, her position being that it just wouldn’t be proper. She also refused any and all offers of assistance in clearing the table.
“Go, get out of here,” she shooed when the meal was done. “Go sit on the balcony and smoke your shit, or whatever it is you do out there.”
“Well, you heard the boss,” Jake said. “Shall we retire to the smoking area?”
They grabbed seats out on the balcony that overlooked the Los Angeles basin. The smog wasn’t too bad today. You could kind of make out the outlines of the buildings downtown. Jake rolled a joint out of his supply of Humboldt green bud, fumbling with the construction a few times since he was out of practice. He then lit it up and passed it around. Everyone took a few hits, even Laura, who nodded appreciably as she felt the first inhalation go to work on her head.
The girls soon got very giggly, laughing at things that really weren’t that funny, and swilling down the margaritas as fast as Jake could supply them. Soon, one of the more notorious side-effects of good ganja made its appearance.
“I’m kind of hungry,” Laura declared. “I could really go for another taco.”
“Mmmm,” Neesh said, her pretty brown eyes reddened and half-lidded. “That sounds amazing.”
“Let’s go!” Laura said. “Elsa will be done cleaning by now. She keeps the leftovers in a little Tupperware thingy in the refrigerator.”
“I’m in!” Neesh said, standing up. “You two coming?”
Jake and Gordon looked at each other and then shook their heads.
“I’m still pretty stuffed,” Gordon said.
“Me too,” Jake said. “But go knock yourselves out.”
They trooped off into the house, giggling the whole while. The two men watched them go and then turned their attention back to the view.
“I really dig your lady, Jake,” Gordon told him. “She’s got this whole innocent charm thing going on. Is that shit for real?”
“It’s for real,” Jake assured him. “She was brought up pretty sheltered—Mormon you know.”
“Aww man, that’s some fucked up shit,” Gordon said sadly.
“She’s recovered from it mostly,” Jake said. “Although her family still doesn’t know she’s dating me. They know she moved in with a guy—which they certainly do not approve of—but she still hasn’t told them who I am.”
“Does that bother you?”
Jake shook his head. “I’m not really anxious to meet them anyway. They sound like a bunch of Book of Mormon thumping hypocrites to me. When she’s ready to tell them, she’ll tell them, I guess.”
“Yeah, sometimes it’s best to let the ladies decide those things.”
“Your lady seems pretty cool too,” Jake said. “She puts off this air of classiness...”
“Yeah,” Gordon said with a smile. “Like she’s got a major stick up her ass or something, right?”
“Well ... I wasn’t going to say that, but she does kind of give that as a first impression. It’s a wrong impression though. She’s very nice, very down-to-Earth once you start talking to her.”
“That’s the truth,” Gordon said. “I knew she was the bitch for me the first time I met her.” He chuckled. “Of course, it took her a little while to get the memo on that one. I had to fight for that shit, homey. Had to win her over with my charm.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said. “She didn’t give a fuck that I was Bigg G—in fact, she seemed to be kind of put off by that shit at first. I slowly wore her down though and she warmed up to me. I think that’s a big reason why I love her. She ain’t like the other bitches I fuck. I had to earn that shit; you know what I’m saying?”
“I know what you’re saying,” Jake said. He picked up his margarita glass and held it out. “To earning our bitches,” he toasted.
“To earning our bitches,” Gordon returned. They clinked their glasses together and drank.
“How goes your career?” Jake asked him next. “I heard you had some trouble with C-Block Records.”
“Yeah,” Gordon said sourly. “That has-been motherfucker No-Bail tried to fuck me outta some of my royalties. Thought he was being all slick and shit. That’s how I ended up in that law office where I met Neesh, as a matter of fact. I was putting together a lawsuit against his ass to force him to pay out what he owed me.”
“How’s that going?”
“He settled shortly after we filed. Gave me all I was asking for and paid my lawyer fees. He knew he was gonna lose his ass if we went to court. He didn’t have a leg to stand on and would’ve been hit with punitive damages, sure as shit.”
“A happy ending, I suppose,” Jake allowed. “What about now? Are you working on anything new?”
“I’m putting together a new album now,” he said. “Still in the development stages. I’m hoping to go fully independent like you and Celia did.”
“It’s been quite a journey,” Jake said. “We ended up going considerably over budget, and we still haven’t paid the manufacturing and distribution costs yet. Do you know what studio you’re going to use?”
“I got some feelers out, but I’m still a few steps away from needing studio time. Like I said, I’m still putting the material together right now, and ... well ... there was something I thought you might be able to help me out with.”
“What’s that?” Jake asked.
“I’m trying to go a little experimental on this next release,” he said.
“Experimental?”
“Straight rap is getting old,” Gordon told him. “Both for me and for the music consumer in general. It’s evolving into something else and I want to evolve along with it ... or help shape that evolution. You know what I’m sayin’?”