By Pete Moss
(Click here for Part XXI )
It's a hipster store. At 20th and Valencia.
A clean well lighted place for religious doo-dads. Lana Del Rey sings Summertime Sadness in the background.
Skinny jeans and porkpie hats. Snarky shoppers and Sage in the air.
I find the will call desk as per the instructions in the text from Larry.
A mousy chick acts like I'm the most boring thing in the world.
"I'm picking up a package for Lorelei San Carlos."
"You're with e-Bay Now?"
Mousy Chick does some rummaging behind the counter, comes up with a package shaped like an American football, wrapped in brown paper. It's not heavy. I sign for it, stuff it in my messenger bag and get out of the store as fast as I can.
I hop on my bike. The delivery address is in St Francis Wood. A neighborhood that is less well known outside SF than Pacific Heights and correspondingly more snooty.
The house at the address on Santa Ynez is a pretty nice one, if you go in for mansions.
I bing the doorbell, expecting a butler or footman or whatever to open the door.
Instead a young girl in Daisy Dukes and a push up bra opens up.
"Lorelei San Carlos?"
"That's my mom, I'm Lolita San Carlos."
"Oh, I have a delivery from Bell Book and Candle on Valencia."
"That's for me actually. I used mom's credit card, that's why it's in her name."
"OK, well here, and sign here."
Lolita takes the package, steps back into the house, sets it down, steps back to me, takes the e-pad and the stylus and waves the stylus at the pad.
Then she keeps the the pad and stylus and gives me a very impish look.
"Have you ever had your cards read?" she says.
"Yeah I think so."
"You don't know? Or you can't remember?"
"Something like that."
"Well let me read them for you! This is so exciting, you'll be my first one!"
Lolita skips back into the house, taking the package from Bell, Book, and Candle under her arm.
Somewhat mesmerized by the sight of her tight little teen-age buttcheeks half out of the Daisy Dukes, I follow.
I have to hustle to keep up with little Lolita, she scampers ahead like an excited Jack Russell.
Up stairs, down halls, around corners. Did I mention it's a mansion?
Maybe as big as Great Aunt Elizabeth's place was in LA. But not nearly as Victorian. Matter of fact I'd say this crib is from the Flapper era.
But finally I catch up to Lolita. She got a big walk in closet, or maybe it's a pantry, or servants' quarters. It's a done up like a 14 year old girl's idea of the inside of a Gypsy fortune tellers tent off in the Carpathian Mountains.
There's silky fabric draped off the walls, and candles and incense. And Lolita sitting crosslegged on the floor, spreading cards.
I sit on the floor. in front of Lolita. I watch her face.
She turns up a card. She is very ernest. She really beleives in this fortune teller stuff.
Lolita turns over a card. Her eyes go big. She looks at me.
"O....You're about to be a father!"
My jaw drops.
Lolita turns up another card.
".....And you......are very conflicted with your baby mommy!"
This is almost kind of terrifying.
Lolita turns up a third card.
"You poor man.......your whole family is a complete mystery...."
Lolita looks at me. Her emotions are plain on her face.
She turns up a fourth card.
She looks at the card. She looks at me.
"It says we should have sex."
"Yes, as soon as possible! See?" Lolita holds up the card. It's a picture of a lady holding a lamp and a cat.
"How old are you?" I say.
"14. Why, how old are you?"
"So, who cares, c'mon let's get busy."
"No....I mean, it's tremendously tempting, but......you're 14."
"I know how to have sex, I'm not a baby! If I'm willing to have sex with an old coot like you why won't you have sex with a teen age hottie like me?"
"Cause I could go to jail."
"I won't tell. I promise."
(Click here for Part XXII )