Dodger Stadium rushed by in the night. Coco and Maria, fresh from a three-band rock show, watched from the backseat of an Uber.
“If you won a billion dollars tomorrow what would you do with it?”
Coco, wife of a real estate developer, shrugged. “Throw it in the pile, I guess.”
Maria leaned forward as the car turned onto Vin Scully Way. “What about you?” she asked their driver.
Tony, a goalie in local soccer leagues, said: “I’m 53 and still get to play three days a week. I feel like I’ve already won the lottery.”
Maria waved her hand. Cute, but no fun to play with.
Tony watched Elysian Park roll by. His padre had told him the history of the place before pro baseball came to town. Paraiso his father had said.
He realized he might be the only one within miles who knew the story. Maria. She had an accent. Called him cabron when she got in. Even she probably didn’t know.
I’d buy this place back, he thought. And as the girl’s chatter turned to open bars, he swung the car onto the 101 freeway, into LA’s frantic rush to outrun wherever it’s just been, on the way to the next adventure.
Bio and Image:
MATT McGEE writes short fiction in the Los Angeles area. In 2020 his stories appeared in Barrelhouse, Sage and Gnashing Teeth. When not typing he drives around in rented cars and plays in local hockey leagues.