pretty latina woman. mid-twenties. echo park heading west. middle of the day.
made me wait.
this week was rainy, so people were finally doing something on the sunny saturday in LA and i assumed crystal was one of the many who had been cooped up in a dreary office and was finally able to be one with the sun
how wrong was i.
she emerged from a modern apartment complex and maybe a little too early in our ride i asked what she did for a living
crystal looked at the bland and hastily constructed luxury complex and said
i do a little bit of everything.
usually people answer my questions right away. yes it’s intrusive. yes it’s none of my business. but im gonna know in minutes. not because im some carnival sideshow genius, but because it’s kinda like 20 questions and if youre in my car for 20 minutes, it’s gonna be 200 questions.
plus sometimes it’s nice to just spill the beans with a stranger in a cubs cap.
oh so youre an influencer? i guessed. one never knows these days with pretty girls, i thought, but didnt say.
an influencer? she thought, then said, i would consider myself an entrepreneur, she specified as we drove past the beautiful Echo Park Lake dotted with swan boats and kids holding balloons.
oooo love that, i said. so whats your niche? i asked ignorantly. whats the thing youve got no one else has got?
everything i am, she said smiling. was she enjoying being so vague? for i was not.
maroon lipstick, thick orange eyeshadow reflecting in the fresh sunlight. she was young enough she didnt need any makeup but she clearly got lost doing her eyes. no matter. beautiful.
are you a native Angelena? i asked.
i grew up in Boyle Heights. but my parents are from Sinaloa.
why have i heard of that?
it’s in Mexico.
yes, i know that part, but…
do you watch true crime? like about the cartels, she asked.
no.
Sinaloa is known for that, so…
i find that stuff boring.
me too, she said, but everyone expects us to be connected with El Chapo or something. it’s annoying.
trust me. im from Chicago and people always think we idolize Al Capone.
you mean you dont? she joked.
all i know is he got caught, so… nah.
traffic wasnt bad but it wasnt good. i asked her if she minded if i took Santa Monica instead of the freeway.
you da jefe, she said, cool as can be.
shhhh, dont tell anyone, i joked back.
do you like this car? she asked tapping the passenger seat ahead of her.
the Tesla? oh thats complicated these days. i love the car. so fast. super responsive. but it’s not perfect. and the guy who “owns” the company is a dope, but yes i do. a lot.
i had a Beemer that i totaled a few weeks ago, she admitted.
thus why she needed me to drive her across town. sometimes you dont even need to ask them that question: why are we here together?
turned out she and a girlfriend were on a roadtrip to Frisco and she got drowsy and fell asleep at the wheel, rear-ending a semi truck.
holy shit! i said, looking closer at her face in my rear view. did you get hurt? you look great.
i was cool. my friend was cool. the car was junked. it was a blessing with no curse.
holy! i said. do you believe in God?
yes, of course, i survived death, and it’s not because im clever or anything, she said.
ok then crystal, God wants you to be alive. so what do you think He wants you to do down here with this second chance at life?
im not sure, but im in it to win it. i’m in His hands. i let Him guide me every day.
what were you and your girl going to do in Frisco?
just party, hang out. i used to live up there for a minute.
me too, i was on lower haight for a few years, i said.
oh so then you know the Tenderloin, thats where i stayed, she said of pretty much the toughest part of the city.
really? did anyone mess with you?
well i dressed down when i was up there. it is different here she said plucking a bit of lint from her tailored, tight dress pants. but i always had my pepper spray. never a knife because i wouldnt want to carry anything that could be used against me in my line of work.
what line is that? i asked, pouncing on what she let slip.
i, she paused, escort… and do other stuff.
oh really? i said congratulating myself secretly, we had only gotten to question 16. then i continued, ive had a number of escorts in here. one was my favorite ride probably ever.
and i told her about The Curious Case of the Reluctant Hooker.
i ended the summary of the story by telling crystal i was shocked when this very average looking skater girl, basically, told me she was about to make $800 in an hour.
it do be like that, she said smiling, proud of her sexworking sister.
is it dangerous sometimes? i asked bluntly.
just being alive is dangerous. if it’s your time it’s your time. even if you are at home 24/7 and never leave the house. some fool gets in a shootout with someone across the street and a stray bullet pops you in the head as you’re watching wheel of fortune, crystal said.
i heard here in LA escorting, even streetwalking, has been decriminalized a little. is that true? have you noticed?
a little. compared to a lot of places, yes.
who is your typical customer, i asked, soooo relieved we could really talk.
i have a strict rule not to date any Black men. it may seem racist, but you don’t know who they know. you know? and they can be so strong. fast.
i said, i picked up a girl in palmdale and I dropped her off on the blade on Fig and she said, “every Black man’s trying to be my pimp.” is that another reason why you stay away from Black men?
bingo, crystal said. everybody wants my money, especially nowadays because the game is so idolized. everyone wants to call themselves a pimp. every tired ass rapper and gang member wants a whole lotta hoes bringing in money while they sit around getting high. but like, no one actually knows what the fuck pimping is. like, back in the day, in the ’60s and the ’50s, this was some, this was some real gentleman’s game.
have you read the book Pimp? i asked as we were getting painfully close to the boutique hotel she was heading to.
so i drove slower.
no, i’ve just seen documentaries and stuff.
you really should read it. it’s from that era that you are talking about. Iceberg Slim. fantastic writer. it would be interesting to see if what he writes about is still accurate today, 80 years later.
if they made it a movie, id watch it. i dont have a lot of time to read much, she explained.
ok. so im still curious about your typical guy. so no Black dudes. beaucoup. is it a rich white guy?
I like white men. I like Asians. Middle Easterns are kind of — they’re a little stuck up.
ahaha ok. so who is the nicest of all the groups? who treats you the best?
the best and the worst, funny enough, i would say: Hispanic men.
some Hispanics treat you like a princess?
the older ones, yes. it’s younger Hispanics that are freaking insane and just want to see us dead.
dead?
yeah dude. there’s people who are psychotic. i mean, you can find that with every race, but my bad experiences have been with Hispanic men.
and then we were there. and then she was gone.
and then i missed her