“Wait, that’s Hollywood Park?”
I looked out the windshield as Sam pulled over on Canyon Lake Drive and killed the engine, which dieseled and rattled, briefly. “It’s a park, what did you expect?”
Lazaro cupped his eyes, peering out the side window. “I don’t know. Like, a statue of Marilyn Monroe; or somethin’. You know, with the wind all up in her s**t and—”
“That’s Palm Springs,” said Nigel. “‘Forever Marilyn,’ on Museum Way. You’d like it.”
“How the f**k would you know what I’d like?”
“It’s an up-skirt. Just your speed.”
“Hey, f**k you, Jamaica. Why don’t you just—”
“Alright, knock it off, both of you,” I said. “Nigel, let’s have a look at that map.”
We all gathered around as Nigel spread it between himself and Sam.
“I’m afraid it hasn’t changed much,” he said. “There’s still no
