He looks around the place too.
“That it was. Things change though. Crowds change.”
I sip the Jack. Swirl it around in my mouth and swa
llow. It burns just right and washes away the last of the fritter.
“Do you ever miss the noise?”
He thinks for a minute.
“Sometimes. Not always. Sometimes it was nice. Other times, it was something else entirely.”
“I remember it used to be a little dangerous around here.”
He lays out coasters and says, “Only if you consider dying dangerous.”
“When you think of the old days, what do you miss most?”
“The people. The old regulars. Some still come in, but others … they’re gone for good.”
I take another sip of Jack.
“This is L.A. Nothing is ever gone for good.”
He smiles.
“Maybe that’s what we need. A reboot. Bride of Bamboo House of Dolls.”
“Son of Bamboo House of Dolls.”
He gives me a look.
“You a Frankenstein fan? I had a buddy who used to like old movies.”
“What happened? You’re not friends anymore?”
Carlos brings over the Jack and a glass. Pours himself a drink.
“He’s gone with the wind.”
“Left town?”
“Dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
He looks up as the jukebox begins to play Martin Denny’s “Quiet Village.”
“Me too,” he says. “I mean he could be a real asshole sometimes, but you know?”
“I have friends like that. Pains in the ass, but they keep things interesting.”
“Exactly. But he’s gone, so what are you going to do?”
“Get yourself a necromancer?”
He rolls his eyes dramatically. “I get enough of those gloomy bastards on trivia night.”