Victoria woke up at eleven o'clock on that Monday, without really knowing what done, showered, drank a cup of Colombian coffee and smoked two Marlboro row. In a fit of nostalgia, decided to go to the store where they sold the mall to buy the foreign press Marca, Atletico had played the previous week and that he played much. Her relationship with Max took too long in neutral, neither advancing nor stopped, was in a state of quiet frustrating for someone like Victoria who deeply hated the routine, perhaps that will give a start to the week to break with those endless days of nothing .
never regretted what he left behind, in Spain there was not much future and ultimately California remained the "golden state," a business here, another there ... He climbed the ladder and I did not worry about minor movements between the Pachuco and Chicano students of East LA that bored her with that child behavior disguised manhood. Victoria
shut the door down the stairs while putting on sunglasses, walked carefree North Croft Avenue, got right on Beverly Boulevard, and after a couple of blocks from sunny walk, arrived and entered the mall.
climbed the escalator full of plastic blonde mature, arrived at the store kiosk, saw the mark on Saturday and read the headlines that Atleti had put three goals to Madrid and Atletico Madrid only one. He smiled.
little crowd noise was invited to leave the street for a few minutes would have been imagined only sets of that match, down the escalators absorbed, wanting a good vermouth, went through the automatic door and a flash went through the dark glasses hiding his eyes
color green.
was the exit to La Cienega Boulevard and there was ... beautiful as a beast, a sporty sport, sky blue metallic, with leather upholstery in the same color, with the hood open and the keys because the boys of valet parking had not been yet. Mercedes 450SL A five-liter engine and eight cylinders, could not explain why, felt a chill and a strain on the muscles that were preamble that something inside him said: "Jump!" Victoria
got the mark in the back pocket of his trousers, took his pulse and left hand supporting the camera jumped over it. Tore and complained loudly in his mind:
"Shit is automatic ... How can these assholes driving a car like this with an automatic? An automatic five liters ...!" He put the direct
, stepped in depth, and the runaway wheel drive left a smell of burning rubber in the air was an echo. Vicky
paid his frustration further digging foot on the accelerator, the engine roared and she noticed the transmission was making the car go running, the color of his eyes was disappearing with increasing air speed and long hair in making music.
turned right onto Rosewood Avenue, still no sign of police, that RWD hermesiana caused the immense nose of the Mercedes he got up in every little sprint. The adrenaline was up and his face had a smile Etruscan indescribable with words. So many years that it was like back on the hunt for the eighties in the Salamanca district of Madrid, and Max did not remember, or the Atleti, or the feeling that the time had betrayed her, and closed the deal the night before that fish Panamanian fat. There was only speed, sparks shooting star and the smell of gasoline.
They soon begin to hear the sirens, turned left on North Hayworth more than eighty per hour, there were no problems, he was a thoroughbred sports. Nothing the least bit worried until the intersection with Waring saw a guy crossing a zebra crossing. It was too late to stop, it was an automatic car, "a fucking five liters vee eight ...." automatic thought. Would have done anything to try to reduce a "second" and it was too late for anything when he realized that the idiot who crossed him at the worst moment of his life was Max.
Something inside her made him decide on the machine, turned enough to not wrap completely and ruin everything, but the shock caused him to lose control of the wheel and stopped short, suddenly against his oncoming destiny.
not wearing a seatbelt and was ejected, he fell forward, but had the strength to stand up, look at Max junked and very touched to see the Mercedes in a sea of \u200b\u200bmotor oil and transmission, and haze of blue smoke with flashes of light flashing orange. Found bearing the mark
in his back pocket, lit a Marlboro and began to walk with a limp, observed by hundreds of spectators attending idle and incredulous, almost as viewers, to show the woman who walked with a half lit cigarette in his mouth, from side to side of the street aimlessly, relying on cars that had stopped after the coup. Agents Los Angeles Police Department pointed their weapons and yelled to stop and put his hands on his head, but she only heard a roar of motor passion that was dispelled with the memory of the lover who was killed one day, and began to feel ill, until the pain overcame the will and fell down. Mr. Blue
shut the door down the stairs while putting on sunglasses, walked carefree North Croft Avenue, got right on Beverly Boulevard, and after a couple of blocks from sunny walk, arrived and entered the mall.
climbed the escalator full of plastic blonde mature, arrived at the store kiosk, saw the mark on Saturday and read the headlines that Atleti had put three goals to Madrid and Atletico Madrid only one. He smiled.
little crowd noise was invited to leave the street for a few minutes would have been imagined only sets of that match, down the escalators absorbed, wanting a good vermouth, went through the automatic door and a flash went through the dark glasses hiding his eyes
color green. was the exit to La Cienega Boulevard and there was ... beautiful as a beast, a sporty sport, sky blue metallic, with leather upholstery in the same color, with the hood open and the keys because the boys of valet parking had not been yet. Mercedes 450SL A five-liter engine and eight cylinders, could not explain why, felt a chill and a strain on the muscles that were preamble that something inside him said: "Jump!" Victoria
got the mark in the back pocket of his trousers, took his pulse and left hand supporting the camera jumped over it. Tore and complained loudly in his mind:
"Shit is automatic ... How can these assholes driving a car like this with an automatic? An automatic five liters ...!" He put the direct
, stepped in depth, and the runaway wheel drive left a smell of burning rubber in the air was an echo. Vicky
paid his frustration further digging foot on the accelerator, the engine roared and she noticed the transmission was making the car go running, the color of his eyes was disappearing with increasing air speed and long hair in making music.
turned right onto Rosewood Avenue, still no sign of police, that RWD hermesiana caused the immense nose of the Mercedes he got up in every little sprint. The adrenaline was up and his face had a smile Etruscan indescribable with words. So many years that it was like back on the hunt for the eighties in the Salamanca district of Madrid, and Max did not remember, or the Atleti, or the feeling that the time had betrayed her, and closed the deal the night before that fish Panamanian fat. There was only speed, sparks shooting star and the smell of gasoline.
They soon begin to hear the sirens, turned left on North Hayworth more than eighty per hour, there were no problems, he was a thoroughbred sports. Nothing the least bit worried until the intersection with Waring saw a guy crossing a zebra crossing. It was too late to stop, it was an automatic car, "a fucking five liters vee eight ...." automatic thought. Would have done anything to try to reduce a "second" and it was too late for anything when he realized that the idiot who crossed him at the worst moment of his life was Max.
Something inside her made him decide on the machine, turned enough to not wrap completely and ruin everything, but the shock caused him to lose control of the wheel and stopped short, suddenly against his oncoming destiny.
not wearing a seatbelt and was ejected, he fell forward, but had the strength to stand up, look at Max junked and very touched to see the Mercedes in a sea of \u200b\u200bmotor oil and transmission, and haze of blue smoke with flashes of light flashing orange. Found bearing the mark
in his back pocket, lit a Marlboro and began to walk with a limp, observed by hundreds of spectators attending idle and incredulous, almost as viewers, to show the woman who walked with a half lit cigarette in his mouth, from side to side of the street aimlessly, relying on cars that had stopped after the coup. Agents Los Angeles Police Department pointed their weapons and yelled to stop and put his hands on his head, but she only heard a roar of motor passion that was dispelled with the memory of the lover who was killed one day, and began to feel ill, until the pain overcame the will and fell down. Mr. Blue 
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