Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Right?” He gives me a knowing glance. Louis is a model trying to break into the industry as well. He’s done some catalog work, but he’s vying for something bigger, just like the rest of us.
Though I’m not sure if that’s my goal anymore. What was Aaron’s definition of success? “It’s success by my standards, not by society’s. Because it makes me happy. And not all accomplished people are.”
This entire time in LA, I’ve been trying to prove something not only to myself but to the people I love. I needed to show that all the pain was worth it for some unnamed version of success. I never stopped long enough to ask myself if anything had shifted or changed. Was it still something I wanted? Guess I’ll have a clearer idea after starring in Cold Blade.
I make small talk with Louis and other servers on shift, curious to see that I’m back in town. Their concern and well-wishes are nice but feel superficial, which only drives home the idea that I don’t have many strong connections in this town. And maybe if it wasn’t for John, I wouldn’t in Aqua Vista either. But I like to think I improved once I got my head out of my ass.
When my salad is served, I reach for the salt and pepper. “Hey, do you happen to know any good fishing areas around here?”
“Fishing?” Louis asks. “An unexpected question coming from you.”
I can see why. It’s not like I’ve done much in LA beyond working, attending acting classes, and going to auditions. “I was an avid fisher when I was a kid, and being back in my hometown these past weeks made me rediscover my love of it.”
“There’s obviously plenty of fishing piers on the beaches, but maybe you’re looking for something less public?”
“That would be nice.”
“I have a buddy who likes Echo Park Lake.”
I shake my head because that one is smack-dab in the city, and just like Venice Beach and Santa Monica Pier, it seems too congested. In fact, this whole city feels that way this time around. Like I can’t breathe or find peace. Likely, I’m just being dramatic.
“Even more remote?” he asks, and I nod. “You sure you’re not missing your hometown?”
Fuck yes, I think, and the visceral response blindsides me. Never in my life would I have imagined missing Aqua Vista. John, of course, but not the actual place, along with the people, the history, the quirkiness, and the quaint beauty.
Instead of admitting to my confusing thoughts, I reply, “Hell no.”
Louis snickers. “I’ll ask around.”
“Appreciate it,” I reply, then dig into the rest of my meal.
After finishing my cider and paying the tab, I head out the door. “See you tomorrow.”
Back on the sidewalk, I skirt around a group of tourists, wishing I’d driven instead of walking the few blocks. But the weather is pleasant, and as soon as I push past this active district, I’ll have more breathing room. Not like I had in the foothills or even on the pier, but it’ll have to do.
As I pass by a newspaper stand, something catches my eye. It’s the history magazine Grandpa had stacks of piled in the spare room.
“Can I help you?” the man asks.
“Oh, um, sure.” I reach for the magazine and set it in front of him for purchase. It’s ridiculous because I could’ve held on to any of the ones stashed in Grandpa’s house, but it was all a blur at the time, and truth be told, I didn’t appreciate it enough. Or maybe at all.
I sit on a nearby bench and rifle through the pages, trying to see the significance of the different subjects through my grandfather’s eyes. This edition doesn’t have any articles depicting the Renaissance period or Gothic Revival, but my gaze catches on an ad for an architectural magazine featuring a Tudor-style home. I smile because even though it’s random, it reminds me of him. Makes me feel like he’s here with me, though I have to wonder if he’d disapprove of my recent choices.
I briefly shut my eyes, imagining Rocco living in my grandfather’s house after the awesome renovation Aaron completed. It doesn’t sit well, but maybe that’s because I don’t know what my grandfather would’ve wanted of me. According to Rosie, he figured I’d sell it and the boat too. Looks like he was right. Fuck, I can’t shake the feeling that my decisions were too rash, but what could I do after being offered this role?
As if my agent can read my mind, my phone pings with a text from him. Production company emailed your contract. Make sure to sign it before you show up next week.
My fingers hover over the letters before typing: Will do.
Another contract, another final decision. Not that I’m reconsidering the offer for Cold Blade. Just that I wonder if another actor would be way more enthusiastic about it. Instead, I feel numb. But like Dennis said, I’ve had a lot of critical things happening in my life the last few months; weighty decisions too. So maybe signing a contract for a job doesn’t seem like such a big deal after all that. More so, it feels like just one more thing to consider in my already overcrowded brain.