Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
But I held on to all that anger, and other kids at school stayed away from me. I was known as the bad boy who would never amount to anything. I became a self-fulfilling prophecy and played the role well. I channeled all my rage and disappointment into skipping school, smoking weed, and getting in trouble. Used to be that the only thing that calmed me was fishing from the dock or my grandfather’s boat. Until I found the drama club and John McCoy—the only highlights of my teen years. Turned out I was great at acting out my emotions onstage and playing pretend.
But my love affair with John was anything but pretend. It was real, but not enough to keep us together. My fingers find the edge of the large manila envelope I brought along. Not sure how John will respond, but maybe he’ll agree it’s long past due.
As soon as I connect to Highway 1, my pulse speeds up. And not only because of the breathtaking views and hairpin curves.
The last time I was here was right after the McCoys’ boating accident. In the years since, Grandpa has essentially become a shut-in. He retreated from this town and these people—not that he was ever a glowing member of society. I know John tried to keep an eye on him because that’s in his nature. But it was Rosie who found Grandpa after he passed in his sleep. Chuck reached out to me regarding the property, which he claims is unsellable.
I’ll admit it’s outdated and cluttered, but no way someone wouldn’t see the beauty in it. Someone with an eye for that sort of thing. Grandpa had always been a bit of a pack rat, but according to Chuck and Rosie, his habits had grown worse.
Christ, doesn’t this throw a wrench into everything. I’ve been on a roll with auditions, even getting a runway opportunity and a toothpaste commercial. Not enough to break the bank, but I’d had a dry spell for the better part of a year, and my agent just kept throwing everything at the wall. Thankfully, this detour in Aqua Vista shouldn’t take more than a couple of months.
And as soon as we get the house sold, I can put this place behind me for good.
The only exit into town takes me straight past the Jack of All Trades service station, owned by Jack McCoy, John’s older brother. That alone will make my presence known before I’m ready, given that I’m still driving the same beater as last time. And if that doesn’t do it, driving through Main Street toward the foothills of the mountains where my grandfather’s house is located will.
Most of it looks the same—the Slice of Life pie shop, the Honeycomb general store—but something called the Shake Shack makes me do a double take. The large front window is lined with unique shakers—of the salt-and-pepper variety. I swear I even spot mermaids and tree stumps. A collector’s haven, if there even is such a thing for seasoning containers.
And as if on cue, I see Beth from Spellbound out on the sidewalk, speaking to Walter, who’s still going strong with his souvenir stand. We used to steal chocolate frog candies from him when he wasn’t looking, and Beth never called us on it either, though she’d spot us through her storefront window. John said it was because they couldn’t stand each other, which had to do with the Aqua Vista curse myth Walter started and profited from. That’s a whole other story, partly due to living in a small town.
But now their conversation looks friendly enough, so maybe they’ve overcome their old grudges. Interesting. I avert my gaze as I pass, hoping Beth doesn’t notice me, which is unlikely. She knows everything going on in this town, not only because she loves gossip but because she’s intuitive. There’s someone like her on every corner in Hollywood, some as fake as a three-dollar bill.
Though Beth’s gifts are debatable, she predicted my departure from Aqua Vista and, on my way out of town, told me I would hate fame. I ignored her like many who’d grown up with her unsolicited advice, but fuck if she wasn’t right. Not that I don’t love acting. It’s the bullshit that comes with auditions and making a name for yourself in the business that I despise. There’s a dark, sleazy underbelly to the whole industry that someone as green as me had to learn to avoid—the hard way.
John doesn’t know most of it, but there was one night early on when I called him distraught about a certain someone’s audition couch. Thankfully, I left the premises unscathed. Mostly.
Despite that, I carried on and got bit parts while paying my rent by working at a restaurant most nights—like many actors do.
I inhale sharply as the Santa Lucia mountains come into view. The beach and the mountains are among the few things that grounded me when I was most troubled. I turn after the mailbox and head down the long driveway to the brown stone-and-wood Tudor-style house with its pitched roof and decorative gables. There was a time when this place brought me relief, mostly right after I escaped my father’s fists. I was finally safe, but the memories plagued me.