TweetyGram

22- #ChurrosByTheOcean

When Jake asked me if I wanted to go grab some dessert, the last place I expected to visit was Starr Sis. Studios.

Yet here we were.

A train of questions ran in my head as we circled the packed parking lot across the street from the famous movie studio. Why are we going to Starr Sis. Studios? He's not thinking of sneaking in to steal some movie props, is he?

Holding on to him, I peeked over his shoulder and scanned him from head to toe. Is that why he's wearing all black tonight?

My brain then directed my eyes to my own outfit. I had no idea how I just realized this, but I, too, was wearing a black jacket, black T-shirt, and black jeans.

Wait. Why are we wearing matching outfits? And why are we dressed like we're going to a funeral? We're not, are we?

As the loud noises of Jake's bike stopped, I could hear uplifting tropical music coming from the studio's backlot. Hmm. Maybe he's hired as an extra for a party scene or something. Or maybe he's going to film an ad there. An ad for a funeral home, perhaps?

"Let's go," Jake said, motioning to the large building across the street.

"Wait, wait, wait. Why are we going to Starr Sis. Studios? Are you going to film an ad there or something?"

Amusement quirked his lips. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Food Truck Friday."

"What's Food Truck Friday?"

A mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes as he teased, "I thought journalists are supposed to have eyes and ears everywhere?"

I rolled my eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm a crime journalist, not a lifestyle journalist. So unless there's been a mass food poisoning case or a murder in there, then my eyes and ears have better places to be."

He chuckled. "Have you ever watched that popular show Food Truck War?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a little too busy to watch TV these days."

"Well, you should watch it. You'd love it. The show's a competition for food trucks from all over the country. Now, every first Friday of the month, all of the contestants gather at the backlot of Starr Sis. Studios and sell their products there from five to midnight. It's a promotion for the show, I guess."

"Oh."

A breeze blew past us, carrying a faint smoky aroma. Grilled chicken, perhaps. Or bacon. Or smoked beef brisket.

I swallowed and licked my lips. "So . . . you're saying there's a food paradise back there?"

"Yep."

My stomach growled at the promise of delicious food. Yet my wallet screamed for me to turn around and head home. Hmm. What should I do? Technically, I still have some money left. But it's for emergencies only.

Then again, this is an emergency.

A food emergency.

"It's my treat."

My eyes darted up to Jake's. The promise of free food was so enticing. I felt the strong urge to grab his hand and dash into the food paradise, but my conscience nagged at me.

After a moment of trying to shut my conscience up to no avail, I heaved out a sigh. "I hate to say this, but as your financial advisor, I strongly suggest you keep your money for yourself."

He furrowed his brow. "Why?"

"You are trying to save some money to start your business, aren't you?"