“Submersible”

Anyone who was lucky, wasn’t there the night that Los Angeles ran out of cocaine. Through rolling deserts, and high, dry mountains; to where plush and manicured landscaping supplied symmetry for yoga, barren feet; and high-priced, shitty little dogs that lived up to their adjective.

Calvin and Leon left the Army as buddies; having come together from nowhere near neighboring parts of the country; but human beings are a fascinatingly simple variety; loving explosives, speed, faster women; and you know, a little cocaine.

Yachts and private jets; small, chartered Cessnas, were their preferred means of meeting their demand for supply. And two live-wires, who spoke your language and their own, always kept a sniff from a scent; even as the aroma of new money wafted about.

Then, there was Zoe. And Crystal, and Sharon; but neither of them are quite as important; and never more daring; for she was the leader, in her own mind, and Calvin and Leon would let her. The off-Hollywood vixen made minced meat of wayfarers; and narcissistic border patrol men — those rare times when Zoe would take her “babies,” as she called them — going behind Leon and Calvin, looking to secure her own interests. Zoe loved men, and fucked women — it was her thing.

And then, the earthquake of 1989 changed everything forever; starting with a punch that landed, clocking Leon’s left eye, where Calvin meant to dot Zoe’s.