We were a day away from leaving to go to Los Angeles on Tuesday. I didn't know what to expect. I wanted to see it. I wanted to be at the club where Chet once performed. I wanted to see the crowd, the people, the dancing. Chet didn't think anyone would remember him but the owner and the owner's daughter.

Tevo knew what night it was and he brought over a big pan of lasagna and a mess of garlic bread. I fixed iced tea and Tevo brought ginger ale to drink. We sat around the living room chatting and laughing about Tevo's past. He made no bones about being a member of a crime family, which is where the money came from for the first Tevo's Restaurant. Not only did T deal drugs, he was stoned most of the time while doing it. When his mother died, all his brothers were mobbed up, but he got out. Since his father ran the gang, he made a clean break, and he wanted to go legit.

It was about eight Monday evening when T was getting ready to leave. We'd loaded up the trunk of a car that wasn't a Mclaren, which didn't have a trunk, and we said our goodbyes out front.

T grabbed Chet and pulled him close. They went around in a circle.

"Mama has your room ready for you. I told her maybe midnight. She'll have a meal ready for you. You know Mama," T said, as I listened to him speaking. "I hope you know what you're doing. If you need help, call me."

Chet had tears in his eyes when he backed out of the hug. T had tears in his eyes when he turned his attention to me.

"Do you like the rings?" Tevo asked as he hugged me to whisper in my ear.

"It's beautiful, T. I don't know how to thank you. You're a sweet man."

"I do what I can. Listen, Z, you know my number. If anything goes down you aren't up to, call me. I'll be there in two hours. I'd go but Chet would think I didn't trust him, and I can't ever let him think that. I'm depending on you to keep him out of trouble," T said, letting me out of the hug.

I leaned to kiss T's cheek.

"Thank you. I won't let anything happen to him."

T got into the sedan and drove toward the exit. Chet and I stood hand in hand to watch him go. He'd been over twice since Chet told him he was going back. T was worried, but not half as worried as I was. T knew what Chet would find up there, but I didn't know anything. I had memorized T's number and I prayed .

Chet sat on the floor in front of the couch with his head in my lap. I ran my fingers through his beautiful red hair. He'd been quiet since T had gone. Tomorrow was the big day and Chet wasn't sure what he'd find either.

"No one is going to remember me," he said out of the blue.

"You'd be hard to forget, Chet," I said, as I brushed the side of his face. "I'll never forget you. That's for sure."

"You've got to remember me. I'm your husband."

"Why don't you get up here and show me how big a man you are," I said.

"I'm a big one," Chet said.

He giggled.

I'd been a man for nearly a week, according to popular opinion. I still had a lot to learn. The more I learned about Chet and T, the more remarkable it was that they were wonderful men. It was a wonderful life. I wanted to see Hollywood. I really did, but I'd gladly wait a few years to see it.

Tomorrow we'd go there. Tomorrow I'd see where Chet finished growing up as a headliner at Rainbow. I didn't know what to expect. It was frightening and exciting. Two emotions that competed for my attention.

For better or for worse, I was going to enter a world I knew nothing about.

*****

It wasn't a new route. We drove up the 5 once or twice a week.

"What's in the envelopes?" I asked, remembering them from T handing them over just before he left. I didn't question it at the time, but when I saw them go into the glove compartment, I got curious.

"Mad Money."

"Two envelopes full of money? Why do you need all that cash?"

"What, you think I'm making a buy for Tevo?"

He chuckled.

"Mama Rosa. T sends her money two or three times a year. Since I'm going there tonight, he is letting me carry it."

"Two envelopes? Who is the second one for?" I worried.

"Mama Rosa. It's out of an account T keeps for me. I give him most of my tips. It adds up. He pays most of my bills. I never gave Mama anything, and I owe her big time. I'm giving her $5,000. It will keep her going for a few months, while she dries someone else out."

"You're a good man. You don't forget anyone who does good for you."

"There was no good until Skippy. I survived and little more. That was my goal in life at ten, eleven, twelve. Survive it. Once I met Skippy, I started climbing in his window at night to have sex with him. It's about as good as anything I'd found up until then. Skippy was good at what he did. He was younger than I was, but he knew he was gay when he was nine. He always had a boyfriend as a kid. Once I came along, he didn't see anyone but me. I guess he loved me. For me it was a good time. I liked his house. I liked his parents. One day he took me downstairs at dinner time. He told his parents my name. He told them that I would be staying with him for a while. No objection whatsoever. It amazed me there were parents like his. Your parents are like his. My parents were the parents from hell. My father beat the hell out of me. I did not shed a tear when he got shot and killed in a bar fight. I thought it might be better without the beatings, but my mother was no princess. My father used his hand, she used a belt on me. Once he quit beating me, it was over. No big deal. I carried strap marks for weeks after she got crazy mad."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It was what it was. It's all I know. Until I met Skippy, I thought all parents beat the hell out of their kids. Skippy told me his parents never hit him."

"I'm sorry, Chet."

"It's what I knew. Nothing to be sorry about. I survived and I grew up. I'm not sure what it has to do with my addiction. That was making it hard on myself. I've often thought my drug addiction was connected to my childhood."

If Chet hadn't gone down the road he was on, I wouldn't have been standing at the end of it. Once we met, the trajectory of our lives changed. We walked alone before we met. We'd been walking together since then. Whatever price that had to be paid for us to arrive at the same place at the same time, was a price I'd gladly pay, pain and all.

"It was leading me to you, Z. That's all that matters."

Facing the unknown that nearly destroyed Chet didn't excite me. I was curious about his life up there. I wanted to see it. I wouldn't leave him there. I'd make him bring me home if he didn't willingly bring me home to our place.

Chet wants to be touching, hold me, all the time, once he picked me up from work. While I have no problem with that, I have begun to feel he isn't quite as confident about what he intends to do as he tells me he is. I trust Chet. I'd trust him on this. I expected to come home with him, once I got an education on life in the fast lane.

I didn't know what that meant. Our life was plenty fast enough for me. As long as we were together every day, it was plenty fast for me. I accepted that life was far more complicated than anything I knew. I was curious. I was scared. Nothing could prepare me for what I was about to find out about Hollywood.

We didn't stop on the way to LA. Chet was moving right along.

I held Chet's hand. He looked my way and smiled, and then he kissed the back of my hand. He kissed my finger with the gold band.

"I was jealous of Tevo at first. I see how essential he is to you now."

"Tevo is the father I never had."

"That's not how it started," I reminded him.

"No, T loved me. He knew love and he told me he loved me, but I was too much like him, and he decided loving me meant if he didn't save me, he'd never forgive himself. He thought I was smart enough to see the connection with River."

"Startling to be compared with him. He was a beautiful boy too. You both were in over your head. I heard was 'My Own Private Idaho' that lead him down the road of doing drugs, to research the role. That movie killed him."

"Drugs killed him. He was too young to realize how in jeopardy he was. The people around him were doing drugs," Chet said.

"You were younger than he was when Tevo found you," I said.

"I was," he said, looking at the road, at me, and back to the road ahead.

We passed Oceanside. We'd reached and passed the domes at San Onofre nuclear plant when Chet began talking. He was watching the domes on the left of the Interstate.

"The first night I went to work for Tevo, he told me to just let it happen. Everyone has an opening night. This was mine. I hadn't waited tables before. I was a dancer. So I danced my way through five hours of waiting tables. Tevo let me use him as the Guinea pig a couple of times before I did it for real."

I was scared of what might be coming, because it seemed to upset Tevo. Curiosity about Chet's life had me determined to stand by my man. Whatever he faced once he went back to Rainbow, I would face with him.

Hearing Chet talk about things that took place before I came upon the scene helped keep my mind from dwelling on the negatives. Ordinarily Chet would have been talking away. For an hour he remained stoic as we passed beaches I surfed. I knew where we were, because Skip had taken me to almost every beach where surfers surfed, and where we'd surfed with them.

"When I went to work for T, you need to remember, I was a month out of Mama Rosa's care, where I got clean. Tevo told me 'It's time to go to work.'"

"I want to meet Mama Rosa."

"A Spanish lady with a heart as big as all outdoors. She will feed us, and you'll get the most wonderful Mexican food you can imagine. I have directions to her house. T is going to call her to clear the way for tonight, after we leave Rainbow."

"Can't wait," I said. "What came of your debut as a waiter?"

"Serving tables is a dance of sorts. I danced my way through a half dozen customers my first night. They were mostly polite and amazed by how graceful I was, as I danced to and from my tables. It pleased most customers, but not all. It's hard to sell an entire room, and there was one table with people who wouldn't have smiled if I had been the second coming."

"I did as best I could. Serving people in a restaurant is like a dancing in a way. I was not going to end the evening to a standing ovation. I'd settle for not having someone I was serving stand up and boo me, or demand a waiter who knew what the hell he was doing. I was scared. Of what I really can't say. It was opening night jitters, I guess."

"Tevo told me, 'It's your first time waiting tables. You are going to be a great waiter. There isn't one person out there that didn't have a first day on the job. You do the best you can, and tomorrow night you'll do better, and Sunday night, you'll be better yet, and by Monday, you'll be the waiter the customers want coming to their table.'"

I was listening and I didn't say anything. There was going to be more, and I was already hooked.

"What happened?"

"I did what T told me to do. He was the boss. I'm sure I made mistakes, and I watched people at one table, exchanging dishes I'd delivered to the wrong person. It wasn't a great tragedy. They took care of it themselves. I didn't let it worry me. T was right there and smiling at me. Like he said, I'd do better tomorrow, but first I had to get through tonight."

Chet was watching the road but he was seeing his first night as a waiter. He smiled and glanced over at me. I squeezed his hand.

"I'd seen T going over to my tables once I delivered the check. I'd hear his deep Jamaican voice, and there'd be laughter and Tevo left them smiling. I couldn't be sure what that was all about, but as the night was winding down, and you need to remember, Tevo's is a high class restaurant. No one dashes in for a quick bite, and dashes out. These people might sit for two hours over appetizers, the main course, and then desert, wine, and perhaps coffee at the end. You do not rush rich folks at dinner. They take all the time they need. At the end of five hours, I waited on eight tables. As the evening was unwinding and it was close to eleven, when service stopped, and Tevo met me after I delivered the last check to the table."

"Come with me," he said. "I'll show you how it's done."

"With his arm around my shoulder we returned to the table I just left."

"Excuse me. I want you all to meet Chet. He's my newest waiter, and he is going to be a prize. He was a professional dancer. You might have noticing him dancing around your table as he delivered our finest dishes to you. It's Chet's first night as a waiter, and because you were all such good sports, tonight's meal is on me, and we wish you the best and I hope you'll return often to Tevo's. I'm Tevo."

The people were all smiles and they all told me how good my service was and a couple said they suspected I was a fine dancer.

"I am taking the liberty to have a bottle of my favorite wine delivered to your table. You can drink it here, or take it with you, as you like," Tevo said."

"He repeated his speech to my other two tables that were finishing up. I really didn't realize what a classy guy Tevo was until that night. His charm exceeds the charm of anyone I've known. He's a handsome self-confident man. I suppose that's why he is so successful. Everyone was delighted to have him come to their table to explain me. He made me feel good about myself."

"It was a lucky day when Tevo found you," I said, as we moved north.

"Lucky for me. I might not be alive if not for Tevo," Chet said.

"And Mama Rosa," I said, remembering she helped him get clean.

Chet smiled.

"Mama Rosa is responsible for one addiction I haven't been able to kick."

I looked at him with alarm on my face.

An addiction I don't know about?

"Mexican food. The woman is a wonder in the kitchen. Her beans and rice are like fine food, so full of flavor it should be illegal, but isn't. The first few times she fed me, I don't think the food ever reached my stomach. It was coming back up before it settled. I don't know how long it had been since I'd eaten, and Mama Rosa was ready with her bucket. She'd only give me a little dab of this and some small portion of rice and beans. It was disappointing to look at, but she knew it wasn't going to stay long. That happened a couple of times when I tried to eat something. Finally it took, and the food got to where it was going and I was no longer tossing my cookies with every bite I took."

"How could you have been in such bad shape?" I asked.

"At the end, before Mama Rosa, it was all cocaine, all the time. I lived on the stuff. Couldn't be sure if I was coming or going."

"No one noticed how sick you were?" I asked.

"I was hanging with hardcore addicts. We were all doing the same thing. I doubt any of them are alive now. They weren't as lucky as I was. Hard to say where they all are now. I doubt anyone at Over the Rainbow will remember me after all this time. I was well liked in my day. I never had to look for drugs. The club came with a steady supply of anything you wanted. It was a drug store."

It sounded funny. It sounded sad.

We had to stop and start near the 405, and again near the 10, but we got off the freeway after the second backup, and we drove the surface streets. We first went to Santa Monica Pier. He told me about the places he knew. Some places were no longer there, and he thought he might be in the wrong spot, but he stopped to ask a guy standing on a corner.

"Cassidy's closed, oh, two years ago. Can't be sure, but they closed."

We drove on Colorado Blvd for a mile and he parked on the street.

"Tico's still here. How'd you like the best hamburger you ever ate?"

"I can't find anything wrong with that. Isn't a hamburger a hamburger?"

"You'll see."

"Hey, Tico, come wait on your customers. Say hello to Romeo."

"Who?" a tall dark fellow asked. "Romeo like the Shakespeare guy?"

"Where's Tico?"

"Tico been gone maybe two years now. Some asshole shot him while trying to rob the place. Tico died. That guy's on death row. Two lives destroyed for nothing."

"You run the place?" Chet asked. "Tico was a fine fellow. Sorry to hear that."

"Tito, Tico's brother, runs the place now. I take care of customers ten hours a day. We have regulars that wouldn't eat a burger anywhere but at Tico's."

"Same burgers?" Chet asked.

"Same recipe. Tico's special is the best selling burger. We try to do it the way Tico did it, but nothing tasted as good as a burger Tico cooked."

"Two Tico burgers. One with cheese, one without. Fries too and do you still have those milkshakes? I sure hope so."

"Oh, yeah, banana, pineapple, peach, chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?"

"Z?"

"Vanilla," I said.

The man backed away and in about ten minutes, we were back in the car eating Tico's special.

When I took a bite of the burger, it was really good. The fries were nice and crisp, and the milkshake was thick and cold.

"Good," I said. "You know Tico?"

"He brought his woman to the club. I don't know if they got married. He was a nice man. I ate here a lot in those days. Tico took care of me. As close as I came, I survived it, and a guy just running his burger joint gets blown away."

There wasn't much time for talking as we polished off the food. I was hungry. I hadn't eaten much before we left the house. I hadn't been hungry, but Tico's burger hit the spot, and I wondered why some people killed other people.

We drove up Colorado Blvd back toward some streets Chet seemed to know. He drove slowly up one street and down another. He slowed to look at store fronts, and he moved on until we stopped in front of 'The Do.'

"How'd you like to get your hair done?"

"Done what? I haven't had my hair cut in over a year," I bragged.

"Come on. I'll introduce you to Alan. He's a genius with hair. I haven't had a decent cut since I left LA."

It was close to three by the time we parked in front of 'The Do.' Chet swung the door open and walked in like he owned the place.

"Alan. Come out, come out, wherever you are."

A rather stylish looking gentleman in a vest and white shirt came through a curtain on the back wall.

"Oh my god, the dead have risen. You bring Jesus with you. Is this the end times?" the sharply dressed man asked.

He had a gray tint to his dark hair and he passed us with a smile on his face.

He went over to the door and swung it open to look in both directions.

"Jesus! Jesus! I know you must be around here somewhere. The dead have risen. Romeo, Romeo, where the hell you been?"

Alan shut the door, and leaned back against it to look at Chet.

"Romeo, Romeo, where the hell have you been? You can tell me. No one talks to me."

"You still trying to chop up hair, you old horse thief?" Chet said.

In a minute, the man with a slight English accent, was hugging Chet fondly. They told me you were dead. I told them, Romeo will never die, and I was right."

"I came close, but I lived," Chet said.

"They said you were dead. I said, 'he can't be dead. He didn't say goodbye to me, and you wouldn't go anywhere without me doing your hair first."

"You look great, Alan. You are ageless. Haven't changed a bit."

"Z, meet Alan, hair styles for the stars. Where are your customers, Alan? You always had customers waiting, while you did me."

"Welcome, Z. That's a snappy name you have there. You with this guy or did you just wander in for a style?"

"I'm with him," I said, amused by the expressive hair man.

"Does that with him as possessive as it sounds?"

I held up my left hand for him to view.

"My god, Romeo is married. That's as far from dead as it gets. You won't believe this. I had a three o'clock and a four o'clock. Both canceled. I suppose that means you and Z can get a style on the house if you work it right."

"I haven't had anyone touch my hair save a few barbers. You want to try to do something with it? It'll be like the good old days."

"I'll do you if you let me do Z. I promise you won't be disappointed."

"You got to sit still for it Z. I really need my hair worked on before we go to the club."

"He sounds like a man who knows what he's doing," I said. "I'll go for it."

"You sure you want to show up at Rainbow?" Alan asked.

"That's the plan," Chet said.

"Claude is less than pleased with you walking out on him. He said you broke a contract. He might want to wrestle you if you show up there."

"Juliet is dancing with who as Romeo?" Chet asked.

"No Romeo. She still dances as Juliet. You left big shoes to fill. They tried to come up with a Romeo for a few weeks, but that's when Juliet's name was the only one on the marquee. 'Dancing tonight, Juliet' is what it said since shortly after you left. She married Ahmed. He can't dance. Her father stopped looking."

"Thanks for the update. I'd like to see Juliet," Chet said.

"She's quite fond of you. We always talk about you when she comes for a cut and shampoo. She still keeps her hair short. She said you'd taken up with a black man, and she thought you went off with him."

"I did," Chet said. "She got the right scoop."

"She wasn't sure," Alan said. "Z, how do you get a name like Z?"

"Zane. I didn't like it that much. My friends started calling me Z back East, and I kept it once I moved out here."

"Take a seat. You can wait," he said to Chet. "We have a few magazines that aren't much more than five years old. I'll take care of you later," he said.

Before I knew it, he was covering me with a cloth, and the next thing I know, scissors were clipping away. I kept waiting for the buzz to begin, but he never used anything but the scissors, until just before he put me out of the chair. That's when I heard the buzz. He made three quick cuts on each side of my head.

"Your turn Chet. So, you're returning to the scene of the crime? You look good, Chet. You look a hell of a lot better than when I last saw you. I came to the conclusion you might not live much longer. That's why some thought you died. Carmen, Jose, Quin, and Allison, all died the year after you left. Big stink at Fox. Quin and Allison were both going to be leading ladies. Some people went to jail over the bad heroin. So, count your lucky stars. You hung with that group when I was going to Rainbow. None of them go there now."

"We were all drug addicts. I wasn't close to them. We had one thing in common. COCAINE," Chet sang.

"Not my style. I like a joint now and then. I want to be high, not dead."

Alan wasn't tall. He walked around Chet, lifting his hair from time to time. I could see his mind at work.

"Sit. You can't go around looking like this, Romeo. Sit and let Mama take care of you," Alan ordered.

"Yeah. I'd love you to do my hair. It's one thing I haven't been able to find at home. No one knows what to do with my hair."

Alan laughed as he circled the chair.

"Put your hair in the hands of a barber, and you deserve what you get."

Chet laughed and Alan had him sitting in the chair with a white cloth over him and his scissors clipping away. Alan was a dancer too, and he moved with a purpose, always keeping his eyes on the head of hair before him.

The shop was nothing fancy. There were some paintings on the walls and some dried flowers. There was a smell of powder and perfume. It wasn't over powering. It was a pleasant odor.

I kept waiting to hear an electric razor and the buzzing I associated with anyone who ever cut my hair, only no one cut it now. Somehow, if I wanted a haircut, I felt like I was in the right place. Alan cut, stepped back, leaned in, cut some more, and right at the end, I heard the buzzing as Alan first did three quick moves just above each of Chet's sideburns.

Alan stayed between me and Chet most of the time, so I only got glimpses of the brilliant red hair, and it looked okay to me. I didn't know any more about cutting hair than I did about anything else. Alan was the guy doing the cutting.

He turned the chair for Chet to see in the mirror, but both of them blocked my view, and I heard Chet laugh, and then Alan laughed.

"Perfect," Chet Said. "Alan you are the bomb."

"I am, aren't I," Alan said. "Okay, you two come stand together in front of my mirror. I want to see what you look like."

I started laughing once Chet stood beside me. For the first time, I realized how clever Alan was. He'd added the perfect touch to our hair and he had to use the electric clippers to do it.

Now, I knew what Chet was laughing about. I'd never looked better, but the finishing touch, a small Z near each ear.

"You're a genius, Alan," Chet said. "A perfect touch."

"You are!" I said. "I love it, Alan. Thank you. You are the bomb."

"He's easy," Alan said to me. "I knew you'd be harder to please, Z."

"I love it, and not because you added the Z, but it's stunning. I feel like I could go to Hollywood. I look good."

We all got a good laugh and while we talked, Alan's five o'clock came in as we visited. The customer brought a paper in with him. He sat down and began reading as we talked.

"Be right with you, Jason," Alan said.

"How much do I owe you, Alan?" Chet said, taking out his wallet.

"You don't owe me a damn thing, but don't ever let me see your hair looking the way it looked when you came in here, Romeo, do you understand?"

"I do, Alan. You are a prince," Chet said, giving Alan a kiss before they threw their arms around each other for a parting hug. "You're going back?"

"I am. I'm clean now, Alan. I went to get clean when I left here. It took a few months. I don't do drugs or alcohol any longer."

"Making that move, when you did, probably saved your life Romeo. You look a hell of a lot better now than you did the last time I saw you."

"You're an artist, Alan. You've always been an artist," Chet said. "I might come back up here just to let you to do my hair."

"Hon, you can't afford me," Alan said. "It was my pleasure doing Romeo's hair again. You were always one of my favorites. You have lovely hair. If the original Romeo wasn't red haired, if he got a look at you, he'd want red hair."

My hair was shorter than I liked it, but I liked how it made me look. Alan knew what he was doing with a pair of scissors. He only turned on the electric clippers at the very end.

"I really belong to you now, Z. This is proof," Chet told me.

"I need to get clothes at Stivics. They still there?"

"Oh, yes. Cute salesman. I go in to take a look at him every once in a while. Old man Stivic's been dead for years. His son used to run it, but he's too rich to work for a living these days. As for owing me, one goodbye hug will cover it. If this man of yours is smart, he'll take you out of here and never let you come back, except to let me do your hair."

Alan hugged Chet before hugging me. Alan was good people. He walked us to the door of his shop.

"It's been a pleasure. If you come back, I'll get your hair right for you. You take care of this one, Z. He's a handful, but we all loved him."

"More than one handful," I lamented.

Alan laughed as we walked to the Lamborghini and drove off.

I wasn't all that good with new people, but by the time we left, I felt as though I made a friend. The Z he added to both our cuts still amazed me.

Alan put my brand on Chet. It was a master's touch.

We were in a master's shop.