Barefoot in the City of Broken Dreams (Russel Middlebrook: The Futon Years Book 2) by Brent Hartinger

Author:Brent Hartinger [Hartinger, Brent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BK Books
Published: 2015-08-14T04:00:00+00:00

Promise me we'll NEVER EVER EVER be like Gina and Regina!!!!!

Finally, the waitress came and asked the table, "So did you guys leave room for dessert?"

Kevin and I both said, at exactly the same time, "No, we're ready for the check!"

* * *

After dinner, Kevin and I said our quick goodbyes, then we went for a walk. It was late — almost midnight — but there was still plenty of life on the Third Avenue Promenade, which is this outdoor shopping mall in downtown Santa Monica. The street's closed off to car traffic, and there are shops and fountains and restaurants and sidewalk cafes and buskers. It's mostly a lot of chains — the Gap, Forever 21, Johnny Rockets — but it's still pretty cool.

"Well, that was unbelievably awkward," Kevin said, meaning dinner with Gina and Regina.

"No kidding," I said.

It had been weird, but now that it was over, I was back to feeling pretty good. It was partly the development meeting at Mr. Brander's house earlier in the week (in which I had ruled). It was also the idea that I'd written something that people were actually responding to — proof that I had found my own voice, that I really did have something to say to the world, something the world wanted to hear.

Oh, and all those movies about Hollywood, about how people supposedly had to choose between success and their soul? They didn't seem to be true at all.

But it was more than that too. I looked around us at the lights and the bustle of people, even this late at night. There was a woman in a dress that could only be described as "sexy apiarist" (including a netted hood-like feature). It wasn't a costume or anything — it looked like she was just out on the town. Another guy was wearing his Nehru jacket inside-out, and I had no idea if he was being ironic, or if maybe he'd spilled something on himself at dinner.

It was funny. Back in Seattle, I couldn't have cared less about fashion, about haircuts and clothing. I was barely even aware of it (as Otto had pointed out). But now I was: for the first time in my life, I was cognizant of shoes. Kevin and I were living in Los Angeles, the cultural center of the whole country, the place where trends began. Two years from now, the rest of the country would be imitating the city around me, their shoes and haircuts and clothing — from Daniel's stupid pulled-out pockets to maybe even "sexy apiarist" (who the hell knows?).

I could make a difference too. That's why it excited me, being in the center of all this. I wasn't going to make my mark on the fashion world (not by a long shot), but maybe I could change the culture when it came to my screenplays — when it came to my ideas.

I was twenty-four years old, and for the first time in my life, I felt like an adult.

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