MADISON
"You know, it amazes me the way you use that shirt," he says opening the car's door for me when we park.
"I don't get your point," I say. The place is full of people from all over the world. We're at the hall of fame and everyone walks around with their eyes stuck on the stars on the floor.
"Any normal tourist would use the shirt from the place they are visiting. Like her," he points out at a woman who is wearing a shirt almost identical to mine with the exception that hers has the initials of Los Angeles in it. "But here you are, in Hollywood with a shirt of I love San Francisco." I laugh. "It's fascinating!"
"I could say you're really easy to surprise," I say when we start walking.
"I love this city!" he almost shouts and I blush when he caught everyone's attention who begin cheering and applauding, which makes him do some small and ridiculous reverences that make me burst out laughing. "Well student of mine, all of these stars are tributes to important actors and directors that were famous enough to receive one," he explains. "Although I guess most of them aren't around anymore." He frowns while we stare at one of the stars. "Now that I think so, they are more like gravestones of important actors and directors." I laugh at his spooky comment and that makes him smile again.
We walk through all the principal spots with him telling me everything he can remember from the city. I thank for his obsession since apart for him being like a local guide for me, it keeps him away from asking anything about Alison or me.
After a few hours, we buy a pair of hotdogs that he assures are delicious. We admire from the car's hood the big mount in which are found the letters that identify this place so much.
"These are pretty good," I say when I finish my meal while he's just halfway through it.
"I think it would have been a better idea to take you out for dinner," he mocks and I smile at him shaking my head.
"I loved meeting the city," I say.
"Meet? Is it your first time here?" I nod surprising him. "You didn't have any expectations from LA?"
"It's the first time I have ever left San Francisco," I say and he shakes his head unbelievingly. "I think I don't even know my own city."
"This isn't going to work," he says and I look at him raising my brows. "How can I be so into someone that doesn't know Disneyland or Santa Monica? Where have you been all your life?!"
"Good question." Have I really missed that much? What intrigues people so much about new places? For the unknown.
"What brought you to LA?" he asks. I keep staring for a while at the big sign in front of us. From here it's gigantic and brilliant. I take my time to think of a possible lie to hid everything about me, but instead of letting out something that could actually help, my brain just evades the question.
"What brought you to LA?" I feel his eyes on me. Suddenly I feel like a coward for not even looking at him, but I don't need to think of me, I have to protect Alison at all cost. He sighs. I look at him from the corner of my eye.
"I thought for a moment that you were the one with the good memory," he says looking somewhere else. I picture my inner me slapping me for not giving him absolutely anything in return and tell myself I'm somehow disappointing him. Maybe if I kiss him he could feel like he's getting something? That's what they do in movies. Don't they? One of them gets mad, the other one kisses him and bam! Everything is fixed.
I gain courage getting myself closer to him waiting for the moment he would look at me again to bend and kiss him. Would I do it okay? I have no idea, but it will be useful. Right? I am about to slide an inch closer, with him not even noticing. He suddenly decides to talk. "Since I was a child, I dreamed of becoming a movie director." I increase the space between us and turn to face him. I stare at his profile until he decides to look at me and smile. I know I blush because his smile turns shy. "My whole life I have admired my father... he's somehow a small scale director," I force a small laugh when he presses his lips thinking of what he is saying. "No one really recognizes him that way, but he directs the commercials you see on TV."
"I like the commercials I see on TV," I say holding my legs against my body and he laughs.
"You don't have to lie," he says smiling. "Everyone hates commercials, even I hate them." I laugh. "I mean it, they're annoying. But what happens behind them, it's amazing."
"Therefore, you want to make commercials and make people suffer..."
"There's where you are wrong," he says. "I'm going to direct a movie. You know... from a good book, a story worth to be told... I could make a documentary about your life and win an Oscar."
"I don't think you could win an Oscar for one life as ordinary as mine."
"It's not ordinary the life of someone that hides so much behind those beautiful eyes," he says.
"I am not hiding anything," I say.
"Everyone hides something." I look at him. "There's something you aren't saying," his voice lowers. "Technically you're not saying anything, but I know you will tell me when you are ready."
"I am different..." I look at the sign in front of us again. Why do I say that? I don't know, but for some reason, I believe I can trust him.
"You are exceptional," he compliments me and I force a smile.
"I believe the word you are looking for is perfect," I say.
"What a high self-esteem!" he jokes and I look at him smiling this time.
"I'm trying to be honest and serious with you." He laughs nodding.
"My fault..." He leans against the windshield glass. "Now I am going to be serious too," he clears his throat and gestures me to continue.
"Unlike you, I don't think I admire my father..." I begin to say and his eyes get stuck on mine immediately. "I don't know him as I should. I don't know him at all. It's almost as if we were only housemates. With my mom, it was almost the same way. Until a few days ago, when everything changed. It started when I discovered that-"
"Excuse me," a man startles us when he suddenly appears behind me. I turn around to face him. A normal man, kind of old with dark hair and bushy beard. He is wearing loose jeans, sneakers, a hat, and a blue t-shirt. Maybe a tourist. He smiles to me for longer than he should and suddenly I begin to feel uncomfortable and panicked.
"Can I help you?" Dylan stands up in front of me with crossed arms. Face to face with the stranger who quits smiling to look at him seriously.
"Yeah, please... my truck broke down and I need to call a crane that could tow it, but everything seems to be against me and my phone's battery is dead," the man explains and when he finishes he looks at me again. I advert my eyes.
"You can use mine." Dylan extends his phone and the man smiles, taking it.
"So kind of you... I won't take long," says the man before dialing a few steps away from us.
"Are you okay?" asks Dylan without making any sound while my attention stays on the man.
"That's right, the street right in front of the sign..." I hear the man. "Affirmative, we'll wait." He hangs up and hands the phone back to Dylan.
"We will wait?" the questions leaves my mouth unconsciously. Something does not seem right.
"My family is on the truck," he nods at an old pick-up a few away, next to the sidewalk. I don't see anyone. "Have a good night." He leaves.
"That was strange," Dylan says while we both watch the man getting into the truck. "I didn't see him coming-"
"I want to go home," I say. Something is off. I get down from the car's hood and he pulls my hand so that I can face him.
"Are you okay? You are pale." I look at the floor.
"I don't have a good feeling..."
The paranoia makes its comeback and in my brain repetitively flashes warning signs. Is the man following us? Was all that a lie? I search through the rearview mirror for the truck, but can't find it. Maybe it is all in my head.