I button the last two buttons of my shirt and comb my fingers through my wet hair without glancing in the mirror. I shaved for work today, something I rarely do. The worn leather of my messenger bag in my hand makes me smile. It was the one thing I searched for in the boxes of my stuff that my mom had stored in her attic when I first returned from New York City. I grab it and sling it over my shoulder before walking out the door of the fleabag hotel that has become my home. I decided to stay here until I figure out what’s permanent in my life. But I know I’m stuck here at least until after the trial. Once it ends, I’ll be able to decide if I’m staying in California or heading back to New York City. Who knows, I may even go back to Australia.
I saw Trent last Sunday. I took a bus out to Laguna and we met at the beach. We surfed all morning and then I took him out to lunch. He looks good. He seems to be doing really well. He asked me to help him—he wants to start competing. We discussed the commitment needed to compete and he seems to have it. I know he’s been up before dawn for months and out there conquering wave after wave. He wants me to talk to Serena—to convince her to take him to Hawaii to get the feel of it. He’s planning to go to college in Hawaii and wants to compete in the Pipe Masters. I told him I would try. I also promised that Sundays at the beach would be our thing from now on, but I’d need a few weeks to get a car first. He wanted to give me mine back, but no way was I taking it from him. I know how much he loves it.
Making that phone call to Serena was tough but last night I finally did it. She answered on the first ring. We’d been communicating through Trent since I left for Australia, but hadn’t actually talked in over six months. She asked how I was and I told her the truth—that I was a far cry from getting my shit together but I was much better than the last time she’d seen me. I didn’t bring up Jason. I didn’t have to. Trent told me his father was coming around more and that his mother seemed happier—so I decided to just accept it. In the end, the conversation went extremely well. Turns out, she thinks surfing is helping to keep Trent on course and has already arranged for the two of them to go to Hawaii at the end of the month. I was glad to see her on board, but honestly didn’t expect anything different. After all, she is just like our mother.
Glancing at my watch, I realize I have to jet. Today I have my first official interview. I’ve spent the week learning the ropes, the ins and outs of the job. And I’ve hated every fucking minute of every day. But I still show up, nod my head, and wait for the day to end. Truth is, it pays well and I need the money. I tried to discuss my new position with Christine, but she won’t answer my calls and her secretary just tells me she’s not available. I know her game—she wants what I don’t have to give. So I suck it up and march forward because a job’s a job.
I make one stop by Four & Twenty Blackbirds for my morning cup and as usual I’m greeted by Ruby’s effervescent smile. She’s so grateful that I introduced her to Beck that she now considers me a friend. Turned out her douchebag ex-boyfriend broke up with her a few months ago for another chick but refused to move out. Ruby’s a nice girl, but a little na?ve and I can see how she could easily be someone’s doormat. At first when she told me her story all I could think was I wasn’t looking to be her girlfriend—that I’m not someone’s shoulder to cry on. But she looked really down in the dumps. So I grabbed Beck and we paid the douchebag ex-boyfriend a visit when I knew she was working. With just a little coercion he agreed to move out.
On my morning coffee stop the next day I invited her along with me to Beck’s after work that night. I didn’t want her to be there when the dickface moved out. She agreed and she and Beck hit it off immediately. They talked nonstop while I drank my beer and tuned them out. When I was ready to head home, Beck said he’d see to it that she got home safely. He did all right. And they’ve been together ever since. Apparently now I’m a matchmaker—fuck me.
Handsome palm trees loom over the cab as I ride over to the Montage Beverly Hills. I fucking hate having to take a taxi to move around town. I hope to get a new set of wheels over the weekend. I’m actually thinking about a bike. Why not?
Rows of sycamore trees, manicured topiaries, and sculpted metal benches line the driveway. I’ll give it to them—the place has charm. The lobby is simply decorated, but carries such an air of sophistication that even I wouldn’t mind sitting down and having a drink. The elevators are nestled in the corner and I ride one to the tenth floor. The hallways are so nicely decorated that for a minute I forget I’m actually in a hotel.
The door swings open and my muscles tense—fuck, I don’t know if I can do this. But I take a deep breath and then realize my interviewee is standing in front of me. I’m surprised she doesn’t have an assistant doing her dirty work. She’s a little skinnier than she looks in the magazines. A little too skinny. The hotel robe she’s wearing hangs off her and her hair looks like she hasn’t brushed it yet today. Yeah, she’s a disheveled mess. I’d be willing to bet that blow is her drug of choice. I worked with people like her for two years. Looking closely into her eyes, I’m pretty sure she’s straight right now or I’d be gone.
She pats her hair and then tucks a piece behind her ear. “You must be Ben Covington from the LA Times.”
“I am indeed.” I grin at her.