Ragazzo Solo, Ragazza Sola | Stephen Merchant / OC

Chapter 2

"This is not a date", she told me again before we entered the coffee shop. I wholeheartedly agreed.

"Just two single people hanging out. Absolutely nothing romantic about it", I confirmed. "We're not trying to impress each other, and definitely not trying to get in each other's pants."

"No, that even sounds gross. And we hardly know each other."

We let it go on for a while, giving each other some more reassurance about the strictly platonic nature of our situation. I almost started seeing her as a possible friend when we got our cups and took a stroll Downtown. Two adults just having a chat, nothing else.

Carina seemed to enjoy my attention and curiosity, so she continued telling me about herself, eagerly following where my questions lead our conservation.

She said that she was from Canada, from a small island on the East coast. She came to LA looking for things everyone here is trying to find: fame and fortune. That was 4 years ago. I asked if she got what she wanted.

"I don't know about what I wanted, but I certainly got what I needed and deserved", she replied, taking pause to sip her latte.

"And what was it?"

"A place in a cozy little record shop in Santa Monica. Turns out it's not fame I was looking for, but a better circle of friends."

"Those friends who brainwash you into dating douchebags?"

'Those, yeah. But look at me talking behind their backs. I'm the greatest friend, aren't I", she gave me a sharky grin.

"That kind of ties into the whole deserve thing you said", I pointed out. She thought about it.

"Can't disagree. And what about you? What did your destiny bring you here in LA?"

"Aside from frustrating relationships and constant sunburn? I'd say, quite promising acquaintances, or, as the kids call it, "bromances" in Hollywood. Also, a lot of material for personal work and some really interesting collaboration projects."

"Verrrry vague", she noted, and punched me lightly in the shoulder. "Hey, I told you everything!"

"But never asked me", I replied. "Besides, I thought it was obvious."

"Nah", she took a second to scan me from head to toe. "You're a bit too... Not the standard Hollywood type actor. My guess is you're either working behind the scenes or type-cast in comedy."

What, those things can't go together?

"That's cause I'm tall?"  I retorted, pretending to be offended. "Thanks for pointing that out. I'm not gonna answer that."

"Oh. That's fine", she folded her arms, chin up. "I'll look you up on the Web myself."

"That wouldn't be a problem if you knew my surname."

"Oh, right. Shit!"

"And it's not Fry, I'll tell you this much."

"Damn, that was my only guess. Then I'll just settle on knowing that I'm talking to the real deal," she said, and chuckled. "Add the 'Stephen Not-Fry' to the list of interesting encounters. Perks of living here - getting to meet people every day. Even a few celebrities once in a while."

"Like?"

"Let's see..." she proceeded to drop names that I, frankly, didn't recognize. She rolled her eyes at my reaction.

"What, too bohemian for you? And those are quite famous, you know. Few ex-SNLs blow up like that, and even fewer are still interested in vinyl. Name a few people from around here that would impress you, then. Or someone you know, at least."

So I, without a second thought, presented the ace I had up my sleeve just for this occasion.

"How about The Rock? Worked a few times with that fellow."

She clicked her tongue on that.

"Ok, yeah, that's a different level. Too famous for me. And just who do you need to be to get acquainted with Mr. Johnson himself?"

"Just a lucky comedian with connections who dabbed in acting a few times."

"Ah, so a comedian, huh? And probably not 'just' some comedian", she chuckled.  "Too bad I don't watch British comedy anymore. Quite liked a few back in 2000s, but they're mostly forgotten here in Americas. You do seem quite familiar, though. Have you been in some major movies recently?"

"Well... "I began, but she interrupted me before I could speak:

"Don't tell me, I think I know! It was Westworld, right? You were one of those creepy drone hosts!"

"I... what?"

"You know, tall and lanky? Nevermind, then. Did you ever work as a monster at all?"

"Well, firstly, ouch, I'm a bit sensitive about my height... Although not really, it's an old bit, nevermind. And secondly, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I mean... Your build is perfect for Hollywood monsters! I know a few people here that specialize in just that. Maybe you should try it!"

"If you count playing a 7-foot albino mutant, then I tried. I'm fine specializing in my good old physical and slapstick, thanks a lot."

"Okay, do you, then. And sorry if I come across as an asshole, I'm just being defensive 'cause I'm realising you're a bit out of my league. So it's not monster movies and definitely comedy. You do stand-up?"

"Now we're getting somewhere. Yes, I perform at the Laugh Factory every other night."

"Ooooohh. Can I see it?"

"Well I can't really stop you from coming if you do. And you might finally get a chance to know my name!"

"At least you're easy to describe, I don't really need a name to ask people around."

"That's also true."

She looked around, trying to determine our exact location. Then she checked my watch again.

"It's getting late, and I have a train to catch. There should be a station nearby."

"Is it? Alright then, I'll walk you. Can I get a taxi there?"

***

"So. Stephen Notfry. I hope to see you at the Laugh Factory," Carina said as we were approaching the station.

"Are you sure you don't want to give me your number, at least?"

"That'll be too easy, don't you think?"

"You do realise that you have to know when I'm performing to see me."

"Yep."

"Well good luck with that. I'll buy you a drink if I meet you there."

"Deal."

And off she went, a new friend in the making. And while I had to admit that keeping it friendly was disappointing, it was also liberating in a way. Alone, but together.

Wherever this goes, I would definitely want to see her again, I thought to myself on a ride back home.