Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“I totally understand why you’d be hesitant to put yourself out there again, after something like that.”
“I’m glad you get it. Not everyone does, including my teammates. They think I haven’t been having sex very often, which is why they played that joke on me with the blow-up doll. If they knew how long it had actually been, they would have teased me mercilessly and probably staged some sort of intervention.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” A moment later, his stomach rumbled loudly, and he muttered, “Wow, that’s embarrassing.”
I sat up and exclaimed, “I’m a terrible host! I should have offered you something to eat.”
“It’s okay. You had no way of knowing I hadn’t eaten all day.”
“Oh man, you must be starving.” I found my phone and wallet in my jeans, and we sat side-by-side on the edge of the bed as I pulled up an online menu. “Everything in the kitchen is probably pretty picked over, but there’s a twenty-four-hour pizza place nearby. We ordered from there last night, and it was really good.”
After we put together an order and I typed in my credit card information, Hal turned my wallet to face him. It was open to my license, and he read, “Ryder Stanley Woods.” He chuckled and told me, “That’s the worst driver’s license photo I’ve ever seen.”
“I know. I started to sneeze, and that was right when they took the picture. They wouldn’t redo it, either. I think they hold monthly contests to see who can take the worst photo. Whoever snapped my picture was definitely the grand prize winner.”
“A contest would explain a lot. My photo’s not flattering, either.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re way too attractive to take a bad photo.”
He retrieved his wallet, and then he straddled my lap as he handed me his driver’s license. I said, “See? You look perfectly cute in that photo.”
“No, I don’t. I look startled.”
“But cute. And wow, look at that name. Harold Ignacio Kenji Nakamura. There’s a lot going on there.”
“Right? My mom is from Colombia, and my dad is from Japan. They wanted both cultures represented, but they also wanted to give me an ‘American’ name, since I was born here. Obviously, they missed the mark slightly with Harold. Right country, wrong decade.”
“I like it. You’re like a one-man United Nations.” I returned his license to him, and as he put it away, I pointed out, “You still have an L.A. address.”
“Yeah. I really should have changed it by now, except that going to the DMV sucks.”
“Are you going to stay in San Francisco after you finish school?”
“Hopefully. My best friend and his family live there, which is why I moved up in the first place. There are more jobs in L.A. and New York, but I’d love to stay where I am, assuming I can find a job in my field.”
“I suppose fashion design is the type of job that really needs to happen in a big city.”
Hal nodded. “To be a commercial success, you need to be in the heart of it all. When buyers for major retailers are shopping for the upcoming season, they’re going to go someplace where they can see a lot of designers in a day, not just one or two. About the only thing you can do if you live in a smaller city is to open your own boutique, and it’s tough to make a living that way.”
We both stretched out on the bed, and he draped his arm over me as I asked, “What made you want to become a fashion designer?”
“I was in awe of the designers when I was a teenager and working a lot of runway shows. They were so cool, and confident, and totally in charge. I wanted to be like them. Later on, I fell in love with the creative part of it. When I can let my imagination run wild and make whatever I want, it’s incredibly fun.”
He looked pained as he added, “Although, as my parents are always quick to remind me, I need to be practical. Chances are, I’ll get a job designing sportswear, or something along those lines. I won’t be able to afford launching my own label, and no one’s going to pay me to come up with wild, avant-garde creations.”
“Where do your parents live?”
“Osaka. They moved there from L.A. when I was twenty, because my dad’s cousin offered him a job in his company.”
“Did you think about going along?”
“I wanted to, but they told me to stay. They said it would be better for my modeling career.”
“Did you have any other family nearby?”
Hal shook his head. “My parents defied their families when they got married, and they moved cross-country to Los Angeles on their own. I never really got to know my relatives, because it was just the three of us when I was growing up.”