Chapel Perilous

PROLOGUE

The '60s were quite a time to be a young adult. I remember all the bright colours, the catchy music, the flashy cars and the thrill of watching our society progress into the future. I was 21 years of age in 1968 and had a whole lifetime ahead of me. Living in L.A, I aspired to be an actress, a top billing actress infact. I wanted to work alongside the likes of Burt Lancaster and Sharon Tate, they were icons in my friend group.

I must've fallen victim to the classic Hollywood trap back in the day. I thought if I'd work a dead-end job at a diner or a clothing shop, that one day a prominent figure in the industry would waltz in through the door, take a look at me and say "Kid, you've got it all. Give me your contact and I'll make you the face of Hollywood!".

I worked at a diner named "The Funky Flavour". I slaved away waitressing for atleast three years there, serving food to some of the most malignant and discomforting people you would ever meet. I don't know what it was about them - they'd walk in and sit down almost in robotic fashion. They'd never reciprocate a hello or give a struggling young lady a tip. Their eyes didn't feel empty, yet when I looked at them, it felt like I was looking into a pit of darkness that was hiding something.

At night after my shifts, my boss would stay with me in the diner before my boyfriend came to pick me up. Our shift always ended at 11:00PM, yet he'd always wait with me so I don't have to wait in the cold and dark all by myself. He and my boyfriend were amiable together, something connected them even though they were from completely different worlds. My boss was named Phillip Lombardi, he was a 60 year old italian man. He'd wear these small, round glasses on the tip of his nose. He was short and stout with receding gray hair, yet had lots of moxxie. He'd throw out troublemakers like they were lightweights, despite the fact they tended to be on the broader side.

My boyfriend was around my age. His name was Jeremy and I must confess his looks were out of this world and were a factor as to why I took an immediate liking to him - though it did help that when we got together, he treated me like I was a queen. He came from Florida with his family when I'd met him - they were running their own business in the heart of L.A. I recall I'd work for his mother in the shop on some of my days off. They sold shoes to the snobs of California, yet I had no luck at all getting my acting career going beyond a casting call for an advertisement. Jeremy would always lift my spirits though. He believed if I waited and applied myself, I could easily land a role in a film. If only I did actually apply myself...

In the summer of 1968 we decided to go on a trip to the great plains in Montana, I was growing weary of the hellscape that was Hollywood and L.A as a whole. If I'd look another lifeless shell in the eyes I was gonna lose it. We had decided to go by car, as at the time I was under the impression I was too good for the train or even the bus. I also really enjoyed being driven by him in his dads car. It was this bitchin' Coupe DeVille painted cream with a white roof. I'd never ridden in a more comfortable car in my life prior to that - up until I got together with him I was still riding in the backseat of my dads Dodge.

I had packed a bunch of my favourite sundresses and skirts to take along with me. I guessed that despite the summer season, Montana would get quite cold too. I had never been to Montana before and neither had Jeremy. Jeremy was so gaudy when it came to clothing, honestly years later I have yet to meet another person who took less pride in his clothes than Jeremy. He would wear these faded denim pants, with holes ripped around the knee area on purpose. Combined with leather cowboy boots and a series of blank, usually slightly too big t-shirts. I was sure he packed nothing but that for our trip - partially because we packed together and he would try to hide the clothes he folded into his case from me.

When we were good to go we stopped by the Funky Flavour to get some food for the road. We had called ahead of time so that we could just get the food to go, I mean, who wants to spend more time in L.A than they have to? I sure as hell didn't want to and still don't. We pulled up in the alleyway behind the place. I could smell the months old garbage rotting away in the garbage bins next to the backdoor, the trash pickups evidently didn't extend to this part of the street. The smell would pierce my nostrils and it felt like it would crawl its way down my stomach and begin wrestling with my lunch for that day. Nausea was almost expected when I was disposing of trash, though it never took more than 30 seconds. We were parked for what felt like centuries, albeit it must have been maybe two minutes.

"Fuck, this REEKS!" I would complain to Jeremy. He just shook his head and told me to roll up my window. Yeah, as if that'd get rid of the stench. Phillip finally had brought out the food for us and Jeremy handed him a crisp 20 dollar note. Phillip patted him on the shoulder and laughed whilst saying "Ahh, you take good care of my best employee now, young Phil. Without her I might go out of business!"

That was about the nicest thing anyone had told me in this train wreck of a city that WASN'T my boyfriend. "Thank you Phil but please, can we GO?!" I remember pleading. Phillip just laughed and slapped the roof of the car to see us off whilst Jeremy backed the Cadillac out of the alleyway and drove off for the expressway.