“Methinks the lady doth go on Grindr too much.”
Cameron laughed. This apartment would never be boring.
“So when do you start work?” Grayson asked, putting away his phone for what would probably be a short recess.
“Tomorrow. In Century City, I believe. Off Pico.”
“That’s Century City or West LA. They all blend into each other,” Porter said, leaning against the doorway. “I’m not far in West Hollywood.”
“I work at this bar in Venice,” Grayson said. “It’s great for auditioning, very flexible, and close to my gym. And I meet a lot of interesting characters. I’ve perfected my Australian accent after working there. How about another shrimp on the barbie? Digiridoo, mate.”
“Nice.”
It sounded more like Brooklyn than Down Under, but Cameron wasn’t going to mess up his living situation. Henry had told him several times how fragile actors could be.
“How’s Browerton doing?” Grayson asked.
“It’s the same as you left it, I’m sure.”
Grayson snuck stolen glances at his own abs, which were impressive.
“Do you want to go to the beach?” Porter asked. “We’ll celebrate your arrival.”
“The beach? But it’s 4:30. When does it close?”
“Never.” Grayson laughed, at Cameron and at a message that pinged on his phone. “We’re not going to lay out. Just walk around. You know we’re only a few blocks away.”
“I know.” Cameron glimpsed the lone palm tree again. He was in Los Freaking Angeles. “I’ve never been to the ocean.”
Grayson and Porter did a double take. “Never?”
“Never ever.”
“We need to do something about that,” Porter said. “Put on your flip-flops and meet us in the living room in five.”
Cameron rummaged through his suitcase for flip flops. He pulled them out from the bottom of his largest bag, naturally. Out with them came a Browerton pennant.
He stared at it for a good, long while. Memories surged through his mind.
“You ready?” Grayson called from the living room.
“Yep.” Cameron let it fall onto his suitcase and joined his new roommates.
The breeze wafting off the ocean rustled Cameron’s hair. The temperature was that sweet spot that people set their thermostats to, but this was natural. Cameron wished he’d brought a hoodie like Grayson, who wore a fitted one opened over a striped tank top. Pennsylvania only had this weather one day a year for two hours. Blink and it was gone, replaced by heat, humidity, or bitter cold.
On the walk over, Cameron told them the story of how he got to know Arthur Brandt and how luck and timing were on his side.
“We’ll be working together then!” Porter said, putting on his sunglasses. “I’m Brian Mendelbaum’s assistant. He’s an agent at CAA. Arlo Falconer is developing a movie with Arthur.”
“Arlo Falconer?” Cameron could feel his eyes bulge from his face. “I’ll be working tangentially with Arlo Falconer?”
“Don’t worry. He’s really chill. He was asking me about Costco the other day. He’s thinking about getting a membership.”
“He makes $20 million a picture. Why is he shopping at Costco?”
“For the discounts. Obviously,” Porter said.
“I think Arlo Falconer is gay,” Grayson declared. “Just a feeling.” He returned to texting someone on his phone.
