Oh, right.He forgot: they’re leaving him behind. Tonight, Lola andhis father are lighting down the coast to look at universities well beyond his GPA.What a bonding experience.But he can see how bad she feels, so he simply says: “Whatever.” Reluctantly, he stacks the papers, removes them to his room.
When his father comes home, he is humming:Let’s go fly a kite.His father is not a man who hums. Nor is he a man who irons his shirts, but the iron was out on the table this morning, and his father’s collar freshly pressed.Is he that happy to ditch me?When he sees Sebastian, he shifts, wary. “How was your day?” Al asks.
Sebastian can hardly speak through the anger in his chest at the unbelievable charade of all of this, but somehow, he manages: “Fine.”
“Did you make any progress on that essay?”
“Some.”
“I’m sorry there’s not much in the way of leftovers. There’s a frozen pizza in there, or I could leave you some cash for takeout?”
“I’ll take the cash.”
“Oh good, I was beginning to think you’d become monosyllabic.”
Al smiles as though this is hilarious, and Sebastian imagines choking him.
“It’s not too late, you know, if you want to come with us,” Al says, and he looks almost sorry, as if a weekend with his favorite child isn’t exactly what he wants.
“I’m good,” Sebastian says. “Have fun being high achievers.”
The sun sinks and the pair of them set off. In the morning they will wake up in a small ivy-clad town and Sebastian will wake up here, with his mother.
NEW TOPIC: BACKSTAGE ROMANCES
user: cutandpaste
anyone no about any secret relationships behind the scenes
like with Susan Byrne in particular
curious cuz i have herd rumors
thx
1989
“What took you so long!”
Orson finds Susie scrunched into the end of the bar at Grady’s in Burbank, one leg cocked up on a second stool. It’s busier than normal, and he has to push his way through the throng that floods in on a Friday: grips and boom ops, brigades of production coordinators, actors and wannabes and disappointed autograph hunters and the people who work the studio canteen. Ever since Orson came to Los Angeles, the challenge has been sifting through them; figuring out who is important, who is worth his time. Often, it’s the people you least expect.
“I had to fight people off with my bare fists to defend this,” she says, offering him the free seat. “Look at these battle wounds.”
She shows him her unbloodied hands, her long, elegant fingers.
“Ouch. Better get those taped up.”
“The things I do for you.” She slides him a single-malt whiskey, clinks her glass against his. “Cheers.”
“My hero,” he says. “Sorry, Mark wanted to talk about a storyline next week.”
“Well, we all know what that’s code for.”
Flowers is notorious for his Friday afternoon “script sessions,” which begin with a line of white powder and end sometime around four in the morning.
“The man is an animal.”
“I don’t know when he sleeps.”
