After reading Love in L.A.(pages 111-113) by Dagoberto Gilb answer the following question in 200 words
(Why do you think Marianna gives Jake her information at the end of the story?)
Love in L.A.

Dagoberto Gilb

Dagoberto Gilb (b. 1950) was born in Los Angeles to a Mexican mother and an Anglo father from East Los Angeles. He earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees from the University of Santa Barbara, and currently teaches in the Master of Fine Arts Creative Writing Program at Southwest Texas State University. Gilb’s first published work was Winners on the Pass Line (1985), but The Magic of Blood (1993) established his reputation. Hailed as a classic of the American Southwest, it won the 1994 PEN/Hemingway Award. There followed The Last Known Residence of Mickey Acuña (1994), Woodcuts of Women (2001), and Gritos (2003), a collection of essays. Subtly layered irony and satire come together in “Love in L.A.,” appropriately set in a city where reality, fantasy, and image vie for prominence.

Jake slouched in a clot of near motionless traffic, in the peculiar gray of concrete, smog, and early morning beneath the overpass of the Hollywood Freeway on Alvarado Street. He didn’t really mind because he knew how much worse it could be trying to make a left onto the onramp. He certainly didn’t do that every day of his life, and he’d assure anyone who’d ask that he never would either. A steady occupation had its advantages and he couldn’t deny thinking about that too. He needed an FM radio in something better than this ’58 Buick he drove. It would have crushed velvet interior with electric controls for the L.A. summer, a nice warm heater and defroster for the winter drives at the beach, a cruise control for those longer trips, mellow speakers front and rear of course, windows that hum closed, snuffing out that nasty exterior noise of freeways. The fact was that he’d probably have to change his whole style. Exotic colognes, plush, dark nightclubs, maitais and daiquiris, necklaced ladies in satin gowns, misty and sexy like in a tequila ad. Jake could imagine lots of possibilities when he let himself, but none that ended up with him pressed onto a stalled freeway.

Jake was thinking about this freedom of his so much that when he glimpsed its green light he just went ahead and stared bye bye to the steadily employed. When he turned his head the same direction his windshield faced, it was maybe one second too late. He pounced the brake pedal and steered the front wheels away from the tiny brakelights but the smack was unavoidable. Just one second sooner and it would only have been close. One second more and he’d be crawling up the Toyota’s trunk. As it was, it seemed like only a harmless smack, much less solid than the one against his back bumper.