“He told me to take a look, and in one I found a treasure trove of jeans and shirts and T’s and sweaters—perhaps not suitable for a new bride on her way to a romantic sojourn in Italy, but perfect replacements for the things I had on, which by now were barely presentable. I changed and went outside to find John in the driver’s seat of the Scout. It took a fait amount of wheedling and, finally, threatening to move him over, but eventually we set off for the South Bay with me at the wheel. ... National City is sailor town, a blue-collar town, an immigrant town, home to light-manufacturing plants, warehousing operations, trailer parks, and the famed mile of car dealerships. Ana Orozco’s address was an old-fashioned apartment court on F Avenue, a couple of blocks off Highland. The narrow street was roughly paved and without sidewalks, overhung by very old pepper trees and dead-ending at the freeway. Most of the buildings were California bungalows built in the 1920s, and the apartments—one-story stucco, U-shaped, with cracked-concrete center sidewalks cluttered with toys and tricycles—were about the same vintage.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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