Ruben shrugged and they headed down Argyle to Hollywood Boulevard, hooking a right at the light, then crossing over to the south side of the street before heading down Hollywood to the Egyptian. The boulevard was noisy and there was a long line outside of Katsuya’s the fancy sushi joint on Vine.
“Must be some celeb in there or some shit, *mira *all the paparazzi,” Ruben said.
“Wanna go look, homes?” Dopey asked.
“Nah, chale. Let’s just go scope things out, then if they are still hanging out after, we’ll see.”
Dopey nodded. It was a sensible plan. Their long legs loped along the boulevard as they wove in and out between tourists taking selfies. It wasn’t long before they reached the Egyptian, now called the Cinematheque, near Hollywood and Highland. It was still open for visitors so the guys strolled into the courtyard and soon stood in front of the massive double doors over which sat two Egyptian heads on pillars.
“Damn, we’re gonna need a ladder,” Dopey said, looking up and whistling.
“Two, cuz we don’t know which one it’s hidden in,” Ruben answered.
“And some homies and a shitload of good luck,” Dopey said.
“No shit, ese.”
They strolled around the area, looking up and taking photos and selfies so they looked like any Hollywood-obsessed people. They even asked a few people to take pictures of them so as to fully blend in. After about 45 minutes, they had photos of the whole theater. Dopey grabbed a Cinematheque brochure and they headed back to the car. The paparazzi were gone when they got to Vine, so, shrugging, they headed back to the Pantages lot, slid into Lorca and pulled out. They were quiet in the car, each wrapped in his own thoughts of how they were going to get into those Ramses heads on the Egyptian.
“Where the fuck you been, cabrón?”
As Dopey drove into Ruben’s driveway, a very pissed off, black-haired termagant was standing in the middle of it, screaming at Ruben. The pissed off woman was Ruben’s wife and she stood about five-foot four, had jet black hair, pale skin, very red and full lips, which were currently snarling. She was dressed in skin tight black jeans, a v-necked red shirt with a lot of cleavage showing, and huaraches. She glared at the guys, her wild black hair blowing in the Santa Ana winds.
Dopey smiled.
“Hey Smiley,” he said.
“Don’t you hey Smiley me, you fucker. Where have you had my husband and why the fuck are you assholes back so late?” Smiley screamed at Dopey before turning her head at Ruben, who was getting out of the backseat.
“Well, cabron? Junior was crying because his Papa wasn’t here to read his bedtime story.”
Before they saw it happen, she’d already bent down, grabbed her huarache, and hurled it at Ruben’s head. Laughing, he ducked as soon as he heard the whistling noise it made.
“But, Babe,” he said.
“Don’t you but Babe me, where the fuck were you?”
“We went to scope out the Egyptian because we’re on a quest for the grail,” Dopey said.
“Como que el pinche grail, Carlos. I wasn’t speaking to you either.”
Dopey shut up. When Smiley called him Carlos, he was in deep shit.
“Babe, you know that book I found at my abuela’s?” Ruben started walking towards Smiley, who stood there breathing hard, eyes glaring, with her hands on her hips.
“Yeah, and?” she said.
“Well, it has something in there about the Holy Grail and that my great-grandfather may have hidden it at the Egyptian. So Dope took me to check it out is all.”
Reaching her, he pulled her close and stroked her hair, but she pushed him away.
“Well, it’s not like you don’t have a phone you baboso, you could have called,” she said.
“Yeah, I’m sorry Babe, I just was so excited I forgot.”
“No mames, cabrón. You forgot. I was thinking about aliens and shit. I was worried,” she said.
“Shit, mija, I’m really sorry. I didn’t think. Come here Babe.”
This time she snuggled close and Ruben rolled his eyes over her head at Dopey. Dopey winked at him, then got in the car.
“Hold on, Carlos,” Smiley yelled. “I’m not done with you, oh and, hi, Elena.”
Grumbling to the ghost in the passenger seat, Dopey got back out of the car.
“Come inside, you two foolios,” Smiley said.
She sniffed Ruben’s shirt.
“You fuckers smell like tacos and I don’t see any. Where’s mine?”
Dopey was the quick thinker.
“Ruben didn’t want them to get cold for you, so he said I was to drop him off and go get you a plate so it would be hot,” he said.
She raised one painted and already highly-arched eyebrow.
“Good plan,” she said. “Well, go on. You know what I like Carlos, see you here in a few.”
She pushed Ruben towards the house and Dopey shrugged, got into the car and drove for Pasadena Avenue.
“Shouldn’t have lied to her, Carlos,” said Elena from the passenger seat.
“I know, mi amor, but we’re already in deep shit. Least I could do is try and get Ruben off the hook a little.”
The ghost smiled, “You’re kind, Carlos. That’s why I love you.”
He patted her hand.
“I love you too, Elenita.”