My name is Fiorenza. It's Italian and it means flower. Momma loves flowers. Every summer, daisies bloom in the field behind our home. When I was little, I'd run through the field pretending I was in one of those laundry detergent commercials on TV. You know, in a flowing dress with daisies all around? I'd pick a bunch for Momma and she'd smile and say, "Renza, are those for me?" She always calls me Renza. I hate Renza.
Right now Momma's on the couch, passed out, drunk on Southern Comfort. Dwayne, her asshole husband, hasn't bothered me in two days. That's 'cause he's not here. He took off to Wichita looking for a job. He's a sloppy son-of-a-bitch. Butt ugly. Always spitting tobacco and wearing white t-shirts stained with God knows what. And those jeans of his never fit him right. He belts them under his big gut and they hang off his flat ass. He doesn't look anything like my daddy did. My daddy had thick dark hair and nice teeth, like Tom Cruise. He fought in Vietnam. Died there, too. Momma's got a picture of him on the mantel. Sometimes Dwayne tries to make her put it away, but she tells him to fuck off.
When Dwayne gets back, he'll try to put his hands on my tits. I push him off when he does it. I don't want him. Once he caught me smoking pot, and I thought he'd bust me out to my momma, but he didn't. He just asked if he could smoke it with me. He's such a dick.
It's the fall of 1984. The field is bare now. No daisies - just a bunch of weeds and dying grass. I sit here, staring at it, smoking a joint with my back against the garage. The sky's a sheet of gray and cold air whips through my body. I wish I had my sweater, but I'm too lazy to go in and get it.
Yesterday, I turned 19. My granny sent me 500 dollars. I'm the happiest girl around, 'cause I'm gonna use the money to get the hell out of here.
Where? L.A., that's where. All the beautiful people are in L.A. You see there's nothing here for me in Kansas.
***
I'm sitting at the Greyhound bus terminal waiting to catch a ride to L.A.
What happened was, Dwayne, back from Wichita, sat next to me, as I was sitting behind the garage, and asked if he could smoke my pot with me. Sometimes I get sick of him asking, so I let him. He told me that he got a lead in Wichita. That's all Dwayne says lately, "I got a lead." He put his hands in my hair, and I pushed him off and told him to go to his wife. Then all of a sudden Momma was standing there and she immediately accused me of trying to get with her husband. I couldn't believe it. I mean, that's bullshit!
She screamed, "I want you out of here!"
And I screamed, "No problem! I'll be gone in the morning!"
So here I am, off to L.A. Actually, we have to make a bunch of stops in Kansas, Colorado, Utah, and Nevada. But eventually, we'll get there.
The terminal is so depressing. The walls are a dirty orange and the seats are an ugly blue. It smells like piss in here, too. There aren't many people. Some guy sitting across from me, reading a magazine, keeps looking up and staring at me. He's got this sly grin on his face. I bet he wants to fuck me. God, he must be about 70.
There's a family a few rows across, a mother, a father and a little boy. The mom's screaming at the kid, telling him to sit still. Shit, that child is probably only four or five years old. How in the hell can she expect him to sit still? I've never understood that.
There's this girl, leaning against a wall. She's looking at me. Now she's coming my way. I wonder what she wants.
"Hey, you got a match?" she asks.
"Yeah, I got a lighter. Hold on."
I dig into my purse, looking for the lighter. She's staring at the purse. I've got over 400 dollars left and there's no way she's stealing it. "Here," I light her cigarette. She's got black hair like Joan Jett and she's wearing a black leather jacket. She looks tough, but her eyes don't. They're like, really big and brown.
"Thanks," she says, taking a seat next to me. "I'm Randi. Who are you?"
"Fiorenza."
"Fiorenza? Mmm...interesting. So Ren, where you headed?"
I hated Renza and I definitely hated Ren. I take a cigarette out of my purse and light it. "I'm off to L.A."
"No shit! So am I. I live there. Where ya gonna go?"
I really don't have a clue. But it would feel strange telling her that. "I'm visiting my aunt," I say.
She looks at me like she knows I'm lying. A woman gets on the intercom to let everyone know that the bus to L.A. is boarding.
"Hey! That's us," Randi says.
We finish our cigarettes and walk toward the bus. We each have one bag, but I'm also carrying my purse with all my money in it. When we board the bus, I find a seat close to the front. Putting my bag in the overhead, I notice that Randi's right behind me. She puts her bag in the same overhead and sits down next to me.
She looks into my eyes and puts her hand on my knee. "You know, you're very pretty, Ren. You'll need me to protect you. Lots of assholes ride the bus."
The way Randi put her hand on my knee and the way she looked at me, I wonder if she's like, into me. I can handle myself. It's not like I need her to protect me. But it's cool having her around, I guess.
"Your aunt live in L.A. or somewhere else?" she asks.
She was looking at me in that way that looks like she knows I'm lying. Fuck! I'm just gonna tell her. "I don't have an aunt in L.A.! I'm just going out there to live, okay?"
"Calm down, Ren!" she says, smiling. "You and I are gonna stick together. I know people in L.A. Important people. You'll be all right."
I wish I could talk to her about what she means by "important people," but now her eyes are closed and she looks like she wants to sleep.
I guess I'll just have to wait.
***
We're in California. We've stopped in Barstow and we'll be in L.A. next. I've seen so many different sights. I guess I love the mountains the best. But this bus ride has been so totally fucked. It's jam packed and you have to push past a bunch of jerks to get to the bathroom. It reeks in there, too. I hate that smell. The last time I went, the person that was in there before me didn't even flush the toilet. I almost gagged. There was some soap so that I could wash my hands, at least.
Randi is standing next to the bus having a smoke, but I don't feel like getting out of my seat to join her. I got a good look at her when she was sleeping. She dyes her hair black, 'cause I could see some blond roots. Sometimes her head would fall on my shoulder when she slept. I didn't push her off.
I told her about Momma and Dwayne and why I left and all. She told me she's been living in L.A. since she was 15, and the only reason she came home to Kansas was because her momma died. When she talked about her momma it kinda made me sad because I thought about my own momma. She's probably worried about me. I'll call her when I get to L.A. But I'm not going back to Kansas. No way.
Randi's getting on the bus. I tried to get her to tell me who she knows in L.A., but she just told me to stop spazzing about it. "We should be there soon," she says. "How you doin'?"
I'm gonna ask her again. I don't care if she gets annoyed. "Why won't you tell me about the people you know?"
"Give a rest, Ren. Damn!"
She's staring at me and I'm staring at her.
"Okay...you're going to meet a guy named Doug," she says. "He's a good friend. He's got an apartment and he lets me stay there. So, we'll crash at his place. You'll like him."
"How do you know he'll be okay with me staying there?"
"'Cause, Ren, he's cool like that."
***
There's so many folks in L.A. that I'm like a little ant running around in a colony. And it's not just white people like back home in Kansas. I've seen blacks, Mexicans, and Chinese people here, too.
The first thing Randi did was take me to this burger place where she knows the owner. He gave us our meals for free.
Then we took a cab to the Hollywood Hills. There's lots of rich people there. We're at this guy Lawrence's house. He's older than me and Randi, but I figure he's one of Randi's important friends because I've never been in a house this big before. He's got this bitchin' pool in his backyard and all of his furniture looks like the kind you see in magazines.