paper rings (l.h.)

33

My morning was filled with Tanner driving us to The Beachwood Cafe, with black and white tiled floors and the walls decked out with picture frames and smiling faces of past owners and their grand babies. I paid half attention to the eyes on us as Luke tried to ignore them but failed. As much as I enjoyed my company, and my breakfast of French toast, eggs, and bacon, I was more engulfed on the details of the cafe.

"You look like a deer in headlights," Luke whispers to me, after our breakfast was over and we had finished walking around the most private park he could think of. "Is LA freaking you out?"

"No I do not," I roll my eyes as I sit opposite of him in the back of Tanner's SUV. I am tired now, wishing he would take me back to his place and curl up with me on the couch. But we still had a long day ahead of us, and I was ready for it to end.

"You've held onto the white-fist since we landed," He scoffs, Tanner's head turning to glance behind his shoulder, which exhibits the white AirPods in his ear. "Or staring off into space."

"I'm just anxious, that's all," I say, half honestly. "I've never been this far away from home before."

"It is scary," he nods, as if he wasn't on the first plane out at the first chance he got. "Maybe you'll learn to like it, and that your Grandma was able to get on 40-some years before you ever came along."

I rolled my eyes as I realized he was right, his hand taking mine as we lay them in the seat that separated us. His eyes, focused on the New York Times' Wordle, mine on the world as it flies past us. I had watched him play this several times before, and I enjoyed watching as his face crinkled in thought. I loved to watch him do anything, from trying to figure out a puzzle or a new song, to even watching his favorite shows on television. I hated that I told him he was the love of my life, even though I felt it in my heart that it was true.

We arrived at the venue not too long after getting in the car. It almost looked like a prison courtyard, with its chain-linked fences and tall, bricked buildings. There were several long, black buses that lined the gates. I felt the heat coming off the concrete, and smelled the gas and oil that had seeped into the ground. Following closely behind Luke, he lead me backstage.

"This is the lobby," Luke nods towards a larger space behind a tall curtain as he slings a backpack he had somehow packed sometime between this morning and last night. It hangs on one shoulder, his feet stopping at the snack table that sat against yet another brick wall, with various black-rubber-covered wires hanging from the ceiling. He grabs a water bottle, then a muffin. "There is never any left when you are hungry," he explains, tucking another one or two muffins into a napkin.

I dressed up for this morning's activities. I wore a floral dress that lays a little higher on my thigh than my Grandmother would approve of, and my hair was styled perfectly down my shoulders after I had recently trimmed my bangs myself. I listen to my shoes as they struggles to keep up with Luke.

"I don't give a shit if your Grandma dropped dead in front of you," I hear man say into his AirPod as he nearly knocks me over. Adorned with a headset, clipboard, and IPad, Luke watches as the man narrowly misses and instead begins walking the other way. "You are going to be here, and you are going to be on time."

"Jesus," Luke scoffs, wrapping his arm around my waist as I watch the gentleman find his way into a group of individuals in the same outfits. "I wish I could say that was as bad as they got, but..."

I had wondered about Luke's experience with fame after deep-diving into the world of celebrity lore and the toxic environment of Hollywood. I learned of those who didn't make it out alive, and hearing Luke's short-lived stories makes me wonder why he even decided to come back.