“I’m in. I can scan the owner my application and wire a security deposit.”
“Cool.”
Cool didn’t even begin to cover it. Cameron held the phone to his chest as he danced around his room. Mostly spinning because of lack of space. He lost some gravity as the moment lifted him up.
“You still there?”
Cameron banged his ankle against his dresser, which put a light damper on things. “Yep. Still here.”
“When did you say you’d move out here?”
“September first.” Five months away. Five whole eternities, really. The leases on most off-campus housing ran from September to August, to align with the start of the school year. Cameron wished he could move out sooner, but he couldn’t afford to pay two rents at once. Plus, he still had to save up for the move. He gulped hard when Porter told him what the cost of rent plus utilities came to monthly. More than double his current setup. He hoped it only took him a few weeks to find a job in Hollywood.
“Oh, I forgot to mention the best part,” Porter said. “We’re six blocks from the beach.”
Cameron pulled up Google Maps on his computer to verify. He stared at the swath of blue on the map, mere inches from his future abode.
“You’re gonna love Santa Monica. You can walk up and down the beach. There’s bike paths, walking paths. Any time of day, it’s gorgeous out there.”
“I’ll bet.” Cameron could hear the waves crashing, the salt spraying in the air. He didn’t hear Porter hang up, and he didn’t care.
He ambled out to the living room. His mom had given him their old purple sofa. The thing was as old as Cameron, but still in great shape. It was the one real piece of furniture in this place. Non-Ikea, non-thrift store. He sank into the cushions like chocolate melting into a smore.
Cameron was one step closer to turning his Hollywood dream into a reality. He wanted to celebrate, but Henry was out with Nolan and Ethan was having dinner with Greg and his parents.
The silence in the apartment hit him. He heard a car drive by on the street. Cameron hated any type of silence, from empty houses to awkward pauses. To him, it was a continuity error, like watching characters in a movie veer from the script or break the fourth wall.
He turned on his TV and playedLittle Miss Sunshinein the background while he worked on his screenwriting assignment. That was that writer’s first produced screenplay, and he won the Oscar. Maybe Cameron would be so lucky. He tried not to think about the thousands of aspiring screenwriters thinking the exact same thing at this exact same moment. The movie filled the apartment with noise; it made him calm.
He looked up from his computer. Two hours had evaporated into thin air.Time flies where you’re having fun.It was seven o’clock on a Thursday night. He locked down an apartment in Los Angeles, steps from the beach. He should be out. Tonight should not be a calm night on the couch. He picked up his phone from the coffee table.
“Hey,” Walker said, somewhat distracted.
“Is this a bad time?”
“No.” He sounded hesitant. “No, it’s good.” Much better.
Cameron sat cross-legged on the couch. “What are you up to tonight?”
“Um, just hanging out and relaxing with some TV.”
“Rough day at work?”
“Back-breaking,” he deadpanned. Cameron heard the TV in the background and tried to figure out what he was watching. “If you wanted to come over and ogle my furnishings again, I could order a pizza.”
“I have a better idea. Have you ever been to Cherry Stem?”
“Is that a bar?”
“It’s a gay club. We should go dancing.”
“It’s Thursday.”
“Thank you for the reminder, Human Day Planner. Tonight’s ’90s night. Have you ever danced to a remixed version of ‘Ironic’?”
“I have not.”
Cameron could almost hear Walker smiling through the phone. “Tonight’s your chance.”
