Fish taco

*Nina*

I can’t believe it… we’re zooming through LA on Elijah’s motorbike. I’m sitting behind him, my arms wrapped tightly around his broad chest. If I’m being honest, I could get used to this.

But as soon as he stops the bike, chaos erupts. Three cars screech to a halt, and men with cameras jump out, yelling for him to remove his helmet and shouting questions about who I am, all while snapping pictures.

To the side, a group of teenage girls stops and begins to squeal like, well, teenage girls.

“How did they recognize you?” I half-shout, trying to be heard over the pandemonium surrounding us.

“They recognized the bike,” he replies, shaking his head. “Better hold on.”

With that, he takes off again, weaving in and out of traffic, darting down narrow alleys. I cling to him, my pulse racing, until he finally pulls up behind a very authentic… and not at all flashy… taco house.

I hop off the bike and remove my helmet, watching him do the same. He flashes me a warm smile. “Best fish tacos in LA.”

“But they’re closed,” I point out, glancing at the rolled-down shutters and the ‘closed’ sign on the door.

He simply smiles and starts walking. “Not to us.”

I follow him, trusting that he knows what he’s doing. After all, he is Elijah Grant.

*Elijah*

I watch her take a bite of the soft taco, making soft sounds of delight. To be honest, I find it almost erotic to watch her eat. It’s not that she’s trying to be sexy or playing up to me… maybe it’s precisely because she isn’t. She’s simply enjoying her food.

“Uhm… this is too good. I can’t speak,” she mumbles, taking another bite, eliciting chuckles from both me and Carlito, the owner.

I glance at Carlito, then back at her. “Back when I was broke and desperate, Carlito let me eat here every day.”

“And then he paid me back by covering my son’s college tuition,” Carlito adds with a warm smile. “I knew what I was doing by feeding this one.” He pats my shoulder as he gets up. “Stay as long as you want, my friend.”

“Gracias,” I reply with a smile. Carlito and his family are like family to me.

Nina casts me an impressed glance before turning to Carlito. “Thank you!”

We sit in comfortable silence for a moment before she looks at me curiously. “Hmm, so what does a broke and desperate Elijah Grant look like?”

“You really want to know?” I raise an eyebrow, and she nods, looking genuinely excited. “Okay, first month in LA, just moved down from Ventura. I’m late for an audition I know I’m never going to get. My car was literally held together with duct tape. The woman in front of me stops at a yellow light, so I honk my horn and try to pass her when the light turns green. She rolls down her window and yells at me, ‘Because you honked at me, you will go straight to hell, and those good looks can’t save you!’ And all I could think in that moment was, ‘Oh, she really thinks I’m good-looking.’”

Nina bursts into laughter, a free and happy sound that ignites little bubbles of joy in my stomach.

I lean slightly over the table, looking at her. “Okay, your turn. You said you had a long twenty-four hours. What did that look like?”

“Oh no, no, no,” she shakes her head in denial. “Nope, we are not at that part of the program yet.”

“Oh, we’re not?” I tease.

She meets my gaze, mirth dancing in her eyes. “No, first we have to talk about the three imperatives.”

I start laughing, recalling her answer to the question about her biggest fear. “Maximum security prison? That answer was utterly amazing.”

“But the questions… they’re bullshit, right?” she counters, looking serious. “What reveals a person's true character is their reaction to being told that their true character will be revealed.”

“No comment,” I grin, pointing a finger at her. “But you’re smart.”

She rests her chin on her hand, intrigued. “So… did you just come up with that yourself?”

“The three imperatives were Silas Cross’ idea,” I confess.

She looks thoughtful for a moment. “Wait a minute… I know that name.”

“He runs the Institute for the Higher Mind. He’s also my best friend,” I explain, watching for her reaction… the Institute tends to freak some people out.

She crunches a tortilla chip. “So one day he just called you up and said, ‘Hey bro, I have an idea for this awesome mind game. We should try it at your next auditions.’”

I chuckle. “You know what? Silas just wants to make sure that the good actors we work with are also good people. His wife, Cassandra, is actually my producer.”

“Wow, you guys must go way back,” she says.

“Silas saw the better version of me before I did,” I reply, noticing how intently she listens. “So, have you ever been to the Institute?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. I try to self-help myself as little as possible.”

“I get it. Some people find it kind of weird… challenging the way we think about ourselves, our relationships with the world and our past. It can freak people out,” I say softly, realizing that people need to be ready to choose this path.

“Well, it obviously worked for you,” she smiles reassuringly.

I nod. “I wouldn’t be here without it.”

We sit quietly for a moment, enjoying each other’s presence. I like that we’re comfortable being silent together.

Then my phone buzzes, and I check the reminder. “I actually have a meeting.”

“Oh… okay,” she responds, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

I think for a moment. “Do you want to come?”

“To your meeting?” She laughs, as if I’ve just suggested the most ridiculous thing. “I’m imagining a long table filled with Japanese businessmen in suits.”

“It’ll be even better than that,” I say, smiling at her. “So… what do you say?”