Beautiful Boy

pier 39

⚠️TW⚠️
mentions of physical harm

nicolas sheff

I dragged Amara out to my car, despite her many protests.

"We don't have time! We haven't packed anything, and we leave overmorrow!" She exclaimed.

"Will you please, please calm down? We'll be fine, we can pack tomorrow," I rolled my eyes, unlocking the doors.

She climbed in, her arms crossed.

I sighed, "If you really don't want to go to the pier, then we don't have to."

"No, I'll go," she muttered.

"You sure?" I chuckled.

"Yeah," she confirmed sheepishly.

I started the engine and she reached into the glovebox to grab a CD.

"You don't have any of the new albums from- anyone?" She asked, holding five old CDs in her hand.

"No?" I hesitated, "What new albums do you mean?"

"The ones since 2000," she said.

In truth, I'd spent too much time and money on drugs in the last two years to pay attention to my music taste.

"Just- give me a second, I'll grab a few from my truck," she said, jumping out of the car and running over to her stepside.

My goal for the night was to cheer her up by spoiling her at Pier 39, one of her favourite places.

My dad had even given me some extra cash, despite my refusal, he insisted and stuffed it in my wallet anyway.

Amara dropped herself back into the car, a stack of CDs in her hand.

"Did I seriously miss-" I paused to count the CDs, "Like five albums?"

"Well- not exactly," she giggled, "This one is just because you don't have it in here. You missed four."

"I have 'In Utero,'" I countered, taking and examining the CD.

"Not in here," she pointed to the stack of CDs in her lap.

"Mara," I held back a laugh, "This is my CD."

"Oops-" she giggled, "I guess mine must be back at my house."

"Well, I think that ten CDs should be fine for LA," I said, giving her the copy of 'In Utero' back.

"Which CD should I put on?" She asked, "And don't say-"

"You can choose," I replied.

She glared at me, and I smiled, "Just put on blink or whatever."

"'Enema Of The State,' 'Take Off Your Pants And Jacket,' or 'Dude Ranch?'"

She kept three CDs out and put the other seven back into the glove box.

"Is the second one the one I missed?" I asked.

I didn't recognise the title of the album.

"Mhm," she nodded.

"That one, obviously," I teased.

She rolled her eyes and put the other CDs away, closing the glovebox.

The drive to Pier 39 was short of half an hour from Sausalito.

The radio and the engine were the only sounds in the car, apart from the occasional comment from one of us.

I parked the car, and to our luck, it looked quiet, I assumed it would be because it was Wednesday evening.