Page 39 of Breaking Hollywood

“Hey, baby! Sorry Mama was out for so long. It’s been a butthole of a day. You hungry?” I pick her up and hug her.

Gucci is a pygmy goat. She’s four months old, and I just adore her. She’s the cutest thing ever. Little gray and white thing with a black patch on her head. Some might think that a goat is an odd pet to have, but she’s awesome. So full of life and happiness. And she’s just so spunky and really loving.

I walk into my bare apartment. I avoid looking at the empty space and go straight into the kitchen to sort her food out.

I put some of her favorite alfalfa hay in her bowl along with some chopped up vegetables. And I fill her water bowl up.

Then, I sit at the breakfast bar while she eats, and I have my sandwich. I open up the wine and drink straight from the bottle.

I don’t have any glasses. All of my stuff has either been sold or is in storage. All I have here are my clothes, shoes, toiletries, a pillow, and a sleeping bag, which has been my bed for the last four days, as I sold my bed and my sofa.

It’s not so bad, sleeping on the floor. Could be worse. I could be sleeping in my car.

But that’s what Gucci and I will probably be doing tomorrow if I don’t get something sorted fast.

I can feel tears pushing at the corners of my eyes.

Don’t cry. It’ll be fine. You’ll figure something out. And, if not, you can just go back home to New York.

I take a big swig of wine.

Gucci pushes against my leg with her head.

“You need some air, baby? Come on, let’s get you outside.”

I pick her up, and taking the wine bottle with me, I leave my apartment and head up to the rooftop garden.

I’m really going to miss this place.

I put Gucci down, and she has a wander around, sniffing the plants that Mr. Goodman keeps up here.

I sit down on the bench and drink some more wine.

When the bottle’s half-empty and I’m feeling sleepy, I get Gucci and wobble back down to my apartment.

I lock up and get ready for bed.

Then, I shut off the light and climb into my sleeping bag. I set the alarm on my cell for seven a.m. and put it on the floor next to me.

Gucci comes over and lies beside me, like she does every night, so I open up my sleeping bag and let her inside.

She snuggles into me.

“It’s gonna be all right, Gucci. I’ll find us somewhere to live. I’ll get a new job, and we’ll be just fine. I promise. Things can only get better, right?”

The silence echoes around me.

The tear that leaves my eye soaks into the pillow.

I hug Gucci closer, shut my eyes, and wish for a better tomorrow.

Gabe

“Morning, sunshine.”

That voice. So soft and sweet and sexy.

I went to bed alone last night. I was sober, which is a rarity for me, so I definitely know I was alone.