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Covey shook his head. “I got an appointment coming up. Gotta head down to the studio.”

Jay nodded slowly, mouthing an “ah.” He jerked his head towards Jun. “And he is…?”

“He’s my driver.”

“He looks a little different,” Jay said, tilting his head. He gave Jun a quick nod and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey, how’s it going?”

Before Jun could respond, Jay had already turned back to Covey. A shiver crawled down Jun’s spine—though he couldn’t say why.

Covey lightly tapped his shoulder. “Mind putting the food in the car? I’ll meet you there.” His smile was supposed to be a sign of assurance, but his cold brown eyes said something else.

Without a word, Jun settled the plastic bag onto the floor of the passenger seat and slid into the driver’s side. He’d left the driver’s window cracked. Despite the rock music and chatter around the lot, he could hear Covey and Jay’s conversation drifting from the front of the car if he focused.

Jay dropped his voice, but not nearly enough. “When are you gonna have the next batch?”

Covey snorted. “I’ll tell you when. Patience.”

Jay grunted. “’Cause last time that pink stuff?” He whistled, hand sailing past his white hair. “I was gone.” He slapped Covey’s arm with a laugh.

Covey smiled and gave Jay another dap hug. “Like I said, I’ll let you know when the next one is ready.”

Jun already gripped the steering wheel when Covey dropped into the passenger seat. He pulled out of the lot, Jay waving them off in the rearview.

The Pacific Coast Highway was emptier than usual. Jun merged into the scattered traffic, the ocean glittering on his left, Covey fiddling with the radio on his right. He settled on a jazz rendition of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” and leaned back. Jun kept his eyes on the road, turning over what he’d just overheard. Pink stuff. Next batch. He filed it away.

“You know the way?” Covey asked.

It took Jun a moment to realize he was referring to the appointment. “I believe so,” he said as he reached for his phone in his pocket when a hand slapped on the dashboard.

“I’ll direct you,” said Covey.

They headed towards Malibu Canyon Road, passing the large, stark white buildings of the nearby university towering on the hillside. The winding roads narrowed as the buildings grew sparser. The surrounding areas became more foliage than a beach town as he drove deeper into the mountains.

“That a friend of yours?” asked Jun, trying to break the awkward silence.

“Who? Jay?” Covey shook his head, chuckling. “We go way back. We both started out at the same time, but I got my show first. We are both coming to a point where the newer guys are phasing us out, though.”

“It sounds like you hang out a lot,” said Jun.

“Not at all,” Covey said, shaking his head. “He only comes when he needs the goods.”

“The goods?”

Covey nodded at the dark tunnel ahead that carved into the mountain. “That’s what our appointment is for. Everyone in Hollywood wants a piece of the pie. And they all have to go through me.”

They entered the tunnel, harsh orange light flooding the car in rhythmic pulses. The shadows between each light shifted across Covey’s face, reshaping his features with every flash.

“And the demand is only getting higher,” he said, staring straight ahead without ever looking at Jun.

They didn’t speak again until the tunnel spat them back into daylight.

Covey’s directions took them off the main road and onto winding dirt paths that scaled the mountain. Jun couldn’t remember the last turn that had a street sign. His phone had lost signal two miles back. When they finally stopped at a rusted gate, the only thing beyond it was a dilapidated ranch house sitting alone in the dry, endless hills.

Jun was about to get out of the car to check how to get past the gate when Covey grasped his arm. “He’s got it,” he said.

A bulky man in a Dodgers cap trudged towards them, frowning. He wrenched the gate open with one hand, his swollen purple eyes never leaving the car. When he spotted Covey, his expression broke—a gap-toothed smile spreading across his battered face. Covey gave him a one-finger wave-salute. Jun gripped the wheel tighter and kept his eyes forward.

After Jun pulled up in front of the house and shut the ignition off, Covey hunched over, bracing himself with his forearm as he leaned in close. Jun noticed the light peach fuzz along his jaw, his skin lightly weathered.