orient to the source of the music that was now overwhelming my senses. It was coming from the guesthouse off to the right of the pool. I cautiously knocked on a slightly cracked door to announce my presence. If the half-naked assistant is what I got at the front door, I had no idea what to expect once I got to the back.
“Hello? Mr. Goush?”
“Come on in!” someone screamed out over the music.
I opened the door and walked in to find a sweaty white man DJing behind a set of turntables. He nodded his head without stopping the music.
“Are you Mr. Goush?”
“What?” he said as he pulled off his headphones.
“I said, Are you Mr. Goush?”
“Fuck, no. I’m his personal DJ.”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware that was an actual thing.”
“Goush is in the bathroom. He’ll be right out.”
“WHY DID THE FUCKING MUSIC STOP?” someone yelled out from the bathroom.
Moments later a small Middle Eastern man emerged from the bathroom wearing a robe, slippers, and one tiny gold chain. He was wide-eyed with fury, though I’m pretty sure a pharmacy worth of drugs was most responsible for the giant saucers in his eye sockets.
This was Goush.
“Are you the American hero?” he said, with that indecipherable Middle Eastern accent that has become super common in Los Angeles. Is it Iranian? Is it Persian? Armenian? Lebanese? Who knows! All that mattered in this instance is that it was attached to the hairy little man who wanted to pay me to patrol his parties.
“I’m not a hero, just was in the military, sir.”
“Don’t you fuck me, man! I see you GI Joes on the plane when I go back overseas. You are a hero for dealing with those animals.”
“Um, thanks?”
“No, thank you! Thank you for coming, man! Shit, you look too pretty to be security. Look at this,” he said to the DJ. “They send Goush an Abercrombie model to work security, do you believe that?”
“That’s crazy, Goush,” he said in a monotone voice.
“Don’t ever stop playing the fucking music again, you understand? Otherwise, I’ll pay someone else to push play on their laptop for five grand a week. Hero, come with me.”
Goush was clearly a complete lunatic, but at least he was funny. He led me out to the infinity pool and pointed down to the water. We stood there in silence for a moment. I could tell he was troubled.
“You see that?”
“What?” I responded.
“Down there, in the water. The head.”
I squinted and leaned down closer to the water. Upon closer examination, I could see the head and long neck of a flamingo statue. Why were we here? Did he want me to dive in there and get it? Did he want me to eulogize the fucking thing? I didn’t know what to do.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, finally. “May he or she rest in peace.”
“Kimberley. That’s what I named her. In South Africa, that’s the name of the town where they breed. Beautiful flamingos, best I’ve seen on the planet. Have you been there?”
“No. I haven’t gotten the chance.”
“I have. I love flamingos. I paid a fortune for this piece, only to have it destroyed by two guys in a fight. Those fuckers, man. Have you seen gay guys fight?”
“Unfortunately, sir, that one is still on my bucket list.” We laughed. Then he got serious.
“Do you think you could stop gay guys in a fight?”
“Uh, sure. That wouldn’t be a problem. They’re just dudes.”
“They’re fucking crazy. Watch out. That’s why I need someone tough. A real man. Not a bullshit man.”
“Are you saying you want to hire me to stop gay men from fighting?”
“Yes! That’s exactly what I want, hero. They run around town and suck each other’s dicks, then they get jealous about it and fight everywhere. They are like this with everything: fighting, fucking, dressing, talking the shit. They have no rules!” Apparently Mr. Goush was an amateur sociologist. “But they bring the hottest girls, so what are you going to do?” And a philosopher too.
When I encountered that National Guard unit outside the wire a couple years earlier, the experience helped me realize that being immersed in Ranger culture for four straight years had affected how I saw the world and, more to the point, how the world saw me. It was an enlightening and humbling experience. In fifteen minutes with Goush, my worldview was upended again. I wasn’t sure if I was even calibrated properly to the earth, let alone civil society. What in the