= 3. =
 After pizza and beer, the friends were ready to split up and go their various ways for the day. Paul and Joe were going to see flicks with chicks. Rob was going to read books to kids as a literacy volunteer at a branch library. Harry was going to meet some other Patrick Henry guys to see a local rock band off Prospect Street in La Jolla Village.
Alicia and Carol were going to meet their respective dates—summer boyfriends, Alicia called these young men. You got to know about a thousand young people growing up in this area and going to Patrick Henry. Of those, maybe a dozen or so would remain close friends for life, like at the Suds & Floods today. The world being hooked up in a network of who knows who, each close friend was close friends with one or two dozen people—so it was a village or a small town in a big city, typical of many San Diego neighborhoods.
Martin stood for a few minutes in the parking lot with Alicia and Carol before he drove home and the two women went off together to pick up Carol’s car in Mission Valley and drive to their separate homes. They were each spending the summer at home with their parents.
"Where are you going to go?" Alicia asked. "You have a girlfriend?
Carol seconded, "Here or in Berkeley?"
Martin cringed a bit. "Yeah, well, that’s a long story. I was dating a girl up at Berkeley, but we split up." It was an uncomfortable topic, not exactly painful. The split had been coming for a while, after he and she had dated for most of the school year. In the end, or at the end of spring term, they’d known in their hearts that they must move on. To what, neither had a clue, but the chemistry wasn’t there, so they must move on to some vague nada in hope of being home when they next interesting opposite-gender candidate came knocking.
"Did you dump her?" Carol teased, and Alicia added, "Or did she dump you, Marty?"
"It was about fifty-fifty," Martin said. "I’m cool with just hanging out, chilling, and seeing what the summer may bring. If I even stay here."
"I have an idea," Carol said for the second time.
"Oh no," Alicia said, feigning alarm.
Oh no, Martin thought. She wants me to meet some girlfriend who can’t get a date. What do I do now?
Carol explained, "I know a girl who works at a major production company in Los Angeles. Her name is Maritza Dusenberg. I could hook you up with her—see who or what she knows."
"I know another girl," Alicia said. "Her name is Chloë Setreal, at a global firm called Alienopolis.
Martin rolled his eyes, not really caring yet.
Carol asked: "What’s Alienopolis?"
Alicia explained: "Young Adult, New Adult, Participating Older Persons."
Carol added: "Games, movies, novels, music—you name it."
"So it’s some huge octopus," Martin noted. "Huh." Like he cared.
"Well, anyway," Carol said, "there is going to be some sort of cattle call, resume festival, whatever you call it, along LA Wilshire Boulevard, I think. I could give Maritza Dusenberg a call if you want to drive up there and see what kind of jobs are available."
"You could be a famous movie director in a few years," Alicia said—ever so gently but acidly.
Martin almost said no. How competitive would such a thing be? He pictured a vast hall or convention center, filled with tables and thousands of babbling, desperate college seniors waving soggy résumés in sweaty palms and hoping to become the next screenplay or novelization writer, and with luck maybe settle for secretary or kitchenette cleaner.
"What have you got to lose?" Carol said.
"You were going to spend the summer working in a tree nursery," Alicia said.
They stood in the windy parking lot outside Scarf & Barf, while seagulls wheeled—screeching urgently—around their heads over parked cars. The birds were on a kill-or-be-killed survival mission. Each had to be the first to grab a discarded fry or a shred of hot dog skin if they wanted to live to see tomorrow. This was the nature of life in the cosmos. Be there or be square. Sail or fail. Fly or cry. With prodding from Alicia and (subconsciously) from the gulls, Martin agreed to give it a shot. If nothing else, he could spend a day or two in LA, maybe see art at the Getty or prehistoric bones at the La Brea tar pits, or any number of other interesting sights. Maybe meet some interesting new woman—you never knew. Now what about this Maritza that Carol knew from somewhere long ago?
|
Thank you for reading the first half (free, what I call the Bookstore Metaphor). If you love it, you can (easily and safely at Amazon) buy the whole e-book for the painless price of a cup of coffee—also known as Read-a-Latte (hours of reading enjoyment; the coffee is gone in minutes, but the book stays with you forever). You can also get those many hours of happy reading from the print edition for the price of a sandwich (no, I don't have a metaphor for that, like a 'sandwich metaphor?'). To help the author, please recommend this book your friends, and also post a favorable (five star!) review at Amazon, Good Reads, and similar online reader resources. Thank you (JTC).
|
E-Book
|
Print Book
|
TOP
|
MAIN
|
