𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, cliff booth

i

I. AT FIRST SIGHT
"oh, pretty woman!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, the beat goes on! ♪ KHJ Los Angeles! ♪ 7:47 at Los Angeles, this is the real Don Steele! Here we have Nancy & Lee- 'Some Velvet Morning'..."

The portable radio crackled to life on the bedside table of Lucia Leon's studio. California sunlight streamed through the open curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Lucia lay sprawled across her bed, snoring so loud that the neighbors next door hardly got a wink of sleep. Her hair was strewn across the pillow beneath her. In her limp hands sat a thick stack of papers held together by a few loose fasteners. It was a script- crinkled and worn as if it had been flipped through countless times.

As the radio garbled static tunes, Lucia groaned and further buried her face into the pillows beneath her. The script fell from her hands and onto the apartment's wooden floors, eliciting a soft gasp from her lips.

"Mierda..." she cursed, cracking her eyes open and gaining just enough consciousness to lean over the edge of her bed and place the packet on her nightstand.

With what strength she had left, she raised her hands and shut off the whimsical words of Nancy Sinatra with an aggressive click. The apartment was silent once more. A soft smile graced Lucia's lips as she relaxed into the comfort of her bed. But then, her eyes shot open. The light blinded her for a moment- her vision fuzzy. She reached over for her clock so spastically that it tumbled to the floor, the crash echoing throughout the room.

"Shit!" she gasped, practically falling out of her bed to take hold of the device once more. When she did, the white numbers mocked her with a slow click... reading 7:49. "Fuck!"

Lucia threw the covers off in a flurry and tossed the clock back in its place on the side table. She sprinted over to the bathroom, brushing her teeth and combing her hair as best she could- its natural waves still keeping form. She didn't have time for any makeup, a sacrifice she'd have to make as a waitress. After the hygienics, she rushed over to her closet and shifted through the clothe hangers with inhuman speed, opting for a short flowing skirt and tank top to brave the California heat. She then grabbed a pair of socks and laced her sneakers by the door.

Just as she took hold of her purse and reached for the handle, she realized an incredibly important thing that had slipped her mind. She sighed in frustration and ran back to her bedroom, making sure to grab hold of the script that kept her up all night. With that, she hurried to the door and left her run down apartment... ready to start the day with a desperately positive attitude.

___

"What the hell?"

Lucia stumbled into the Musso and Frank Grill, panting as she smoothed down her skirt. Her wide eyes locked on Enzo Romano- the head chef and boss of the classic Hollywood restaurant. He held his arms out in disbelief, the hat on his head crooked and his face red with restrained anger.