Santa Monica Baby: a hot holiday novella by Kelly Reynolds

Author:Kelly Reynolds [Reynolds, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-11-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

December 14th

Nellie

As far as I was concerned, there were two kinds of people in this world—the weirdos who believed Die Hard was NOT a Christmas movie and the rest of us who knew better. I could deliver a Ted Talk about my feelings on the subject and was prepared to do so at any point this evening.

Nora’s friends, Devin and Riley, had invited her and Bowie to join them for a special screening of the Bruce Willis classic, and in typical third-wheeler fashion—or in this case, fifth-wheeler—I had invited myself along.

To be fair, I was in it more for the movie theater snacks. As far as I was concerned, no movie going experience was complete without a bucket of popcorn drenched in butter and salt. I even kept a miniature saltshaker in my purse at all times, just in case.

“This is gorgeous,” Riley said, admiring the theater’s art deco style. “Who knew this place was buried between skyscrapers?”

I nodded. It really was beautiful. Magical, some might say. Floor-to-ceiling decorative columns decked out in garland, a grand staircase leading up to the balcony seats, and a domed ceiling that would make Michelangelo weep. And that was just the lobby.

Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember the last time I had been inside a theater, let alone gone to see a movie. Until recently, it had been months since I’d spent an evening beyond my apartment or the four half-walls of my cubicle. Yet here I was, spending another night out with friends, exploring a part of town I hadn’t been to before, even after nearly a year of living in L.A.

Maybe there was something to this work-life balance thing. God, I hate it when my sister’s right.

“Should we shop first?” Devin asked, arm entwined with their wife’s. The two of them were coming up on their second wedding anniversary, and they still acted like newlyweds. “Or find seats?”

“Ooo!” Nora shouted excitedly, pointing in the direction of what looked like a life-sized snow globe. “Let’s check out the photo booth.”

She pulled Bowie along and the rest of us followed, carving a path through the festive moviegoers like salmon swimming upstream. This place was packed. Milkshakes might have brought the boys to the yard, but thirty-five-year-old action flicks and overpriced snacks brought millennials back to the movie theater. It had worked for me, at least.

That was something unique to our generation, the thirty and fortysomething “kids” caught between digital and analog—we longed for experience. Memories, not stuff.

Which was why along with tonight’s screening of the so-called holiday classic, local artisans had gathered throughout the lobby to hock their wares and treats, everything from hand poured candles—some of which were shaped and painted like candy cane dicks—to boozy cake pops. I was more than ready to knock back a few of those.

Cake pops, I meant. Not dicks. There was only one dick on my mind these days.

As we waited in line for the photo booth, I couldn’t help but think about a certain photographer who lived next door.

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