Card Shark Summer

Chapter 1- Invisible String

 "Terminal C.......Terminal C"

Joe repeated the phrase in his head as he hoisted his luggage off of the carousel. He had to meet the Sony executives for dinner in an hour and the last thing he wanted to do was get there late and look like a fucking idiot. His agent had fought so hard against the execs to get him the leading role in Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk, so messing up this dinner was not an option.

Heart racing, Joe shoved his earbuds into the pockets of his jeans. He had tried to listen to music on the flight from Hampstead to LAX in an attempt to calm himself down, but it had been no use. He was too wound up, his blood a mixture of anxiety and excitement over what L.A would bring.

It was the city of showbiz after all- the place for him to cement his acting career. So much was riding on this trip: the meetings, the reshoots, the interviews. This pressure terrified Joe, even though deep down he knew it was all in his head. Still he couldn't quite shake off feeling like he was a fraud. Sure, he had a Bachelor's degree in Drama and a part in an Ang Lee movie, but something nagging at his insides kept telling him that he didn't belong in the industry. That Hollywood wasn't for him.

Pushing away these thoughts, Joe weaved through the crowded airport terminal. As he made his way out to the parking lot, he noticed a flock of paps snapping pictures of some scraggily-haired guy in an olive green t-shirt. He was being tailed by a bodyguard who kept yelling profanities at the paparazzi.

"Calvin!" the paps yelled. "Just one shot bodyguard. I promise. Just one shot! Calvin! Calvin! Congrats on one year! Keeping that hoe locked up, very impressive!"

Whoever this "Calvin" was looked vaguely familiar, but Joe couldn't put an occupation to the face. It didn't matter though because Joe was being swept into a cab before he could see the scene play out any further.

"Where to?" asked the driver.

"The Mondrian, please," Joe replied. "It's on Sunset Boulevard I believe."

"I know the place," the driver grunted. "Lotta film people get put up there. You with Sony or Warner Brothers?"

"Sony," Joe chirped. "How'd you know?"

"It's how the business goes. Work as an L.A taxi driver for 25 years and you get to know the ins and outs of the industry."

"Oh, how cool."

Joe slumped back into his seat and pulled out his phone to send a quick text to his mum that he had made it to L.A. Even though he was 25 years-old and a capable adult, he knew she still worried. Her doting was annoying, but endearing.

"I can turn the music down if you want."

Joe looked up from his phone. "Pardon?"

"I said I can turn the music down if you want," the driver repeated. "Some people find it annoying."

"Oh, that's alright," Joe said politely. He directed his attention to the synth beat blasting out of the backseat speakers. Bad Blood. Joe couldn't help but chuckle to himself. The song momentarily calmed his nerves and made him think of his mates back home. The lot of them were diehard Kendrick Lamar fans and were less than pleased that he had decided to collaborate with Taylor Swift. Though he would never admit it out loud, Joe was fond of the Bad Blood remix and suspected that his mates held the same closeted feelings.

***

"What do I even wear to this kind of restaurant?" Joe asked. He held up a white button down and a pair of dark jeans for his costar, Garrett to examine.

"L.A fashion is a complete shit show," Garrett drawled. "You'll see pretentious assholes in three piece suits and then different pretentious assholes two tables down wearing $8,000 Balenciaga sweatpants."

"So is that a yay or a nay to the jeans?" Joe probed.

Garrett rolled his eyes. "You're too much Alwyn. Just wear whatever the fuck you want and make sure that those guys pay the bill."

Joe laughed, grateful that he had someone like Garrett, seven years his senior, who he could turn to for advice.

"Hey, by the way," Garrett quipped, taking a swig of his beer, "is Lindsay coming out to L.A to visit you, being that you're gonna be here for over a month?"

Joe immediately turned fushia and swatted his friend's shoulder. "No," he scowled. "Things between us are casual and she doesn't need to fly 5,400 miles just to hook up with me. She said she's gonna start seeing her flatmate's cousin anyways. My dick's irrelevant now."

"You should find somebody here then," Garrett suggested. "American girls hit different."

"You're a fucking pig, man," Joe ridiculed, throwing on his white button-down. "I'm here for work, not to add my list of lays."

"I'm telling you I got connections if you change your mind-"

"Garrett, I'm good. I promise."

"If you say so...."

Joe rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair in front of the mirror. Sadly, this time tomorrow his golden blonde locks were going to be buzzed off. Just when his hair had finally started to grow back, Joe got called in for re-shoots.

"I think you look good, man," Garrett murmured, clapping him on the back.

Joe blushed. "Thanks." He glanced at his watch and then back into the mirror. "Well, I suppose it's time I meet the driver in the lobby downstairs."

"Good luck, Alwyn. You'll knock 'em dead. And while you're at it, make sure Sony cuts me a good deal."

***

By some miracle, Joe's meeting with the Sony executives proved to be a huge success. The conversation had rarely gotten dry and even when it did Joe had always found a way to liven it up, bringing up his dog Flint or stories from his Uni days. Even more surprisingly, the food at Nobu had lived up to its hype. Joe was thoroughly impressed with the quality of his whitefish rolls. He would still argue that the sushi spot across the street from his house in London was better, but Nobu had become a close second.

"We've got a very high-profile guest dining at your table next," the waitress murmured as she picked up the paid bill on the table. "I'm talking ten Grammy's and 40 million dollar legs."

Joe had no idea who the waitress was alluding to, not that he cared much anyways. He had spent all of four hours in L.A and was already beginning to grow sick of the fame-obsessed culture within the city. He didn't give a shit about how much someone was allegedly ensuring their legs for.

The rest of the kitchen staff however, appeared to give several shits about this high profile guest. Seconds later Joe and the Sony executives were being ushered away from their table as a group of burly men with earpieces entered the room. "Once these guys get out, we'll bring her through the back entrance," announced one of the men.

"God, imagine being that high maintenance," one of the executives grumbled.

AN: HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!! As a token of thanks to all of my lovely, lovely readers I decided to release Chapter 1 of my newest book!!!! I know it's super short (and written pretty crappily) but I'm also working on Chapter 1 of my other book...called "Runaway Autumn".....which I should be releasing in the near future. I have a feeling that "Card Shark Summer" will end up being a shorter book, so I'll prob put more time/energy into "Runaway Autumn" which seemed to be the more requested book anyways. As always, thanks for reading!! I hope I didn't bore you to death. Sending lots of love and positive energy your way!!