32
TELENOVELA
CASH
Enter Sandman by Metallica
I pull into the parking lot of DeSoto Customs in Boyle Heights, just southeast of downtown L.A. It’s an industrial style building with large open bay doors; the heavy, hard riffs of a Metallica song spilling into the parking lot.
I lift my leg over the seat and leave the bike parked in front of one of the bays while I go inside looking for Emiliano. I push my glasses to the top of my head and ignore the stares I get as I walk by some of the guys working on bikes. They talk amongst themselves in Spanish, not even bothering to whisper because they already know I don’t understand. I can only guess, and it isn’t good when I hear the word gringo.
“You lost?” asks a girl with long dark hair and beautiful dark eyes as she straightens up from an
