Kayla
I pick up my coffee cup and take a large sip of the hot black liquid. After I swallow, I smack my lips together. Boy, this feels good.
Angela, sitting across from me, is sipping on a large iced chocolate. The drink is overflowing with whipped cream.
“Mm, whipped cream. Imagine all the things you can do with whipped cream,” Angela says and grins at me.
“Stop it.” I try to sound serious. “Focus. I need you to listen. I can’t understand how my life suddenly has become so complicated,” I complain and drink more of my coffee.
Laughter peels from Angela’s lips. She puts her tall glass down and leans back in her chair.
“You’re kidding, right?”
I pretend to scowl at her.
“I mean it, Ange. All I wanted to do was to come to LA and write. Head down, bum up.”
“You’ve sure put your bum up,” teases Angela, and I regret my choice of words.
“Stop it. You know what I mean.” I roll my eyes.
There’s more laughter from my best friend.
“Lighten up, sweetheart,” she chides and leans forward to sip her iced chocolate.
I run both hands through my hair.
“The whole thing’s just crazy. My life’s crazy. Maybe I’m crazy.”
“Everyone in LA is crazy, Kayla. You should know that by now. That’s the attraction of the place. I mean, all this craziness zooming around this place and colliding with each other makes LA what it is. That’s why people come to live here, that’s why we live here.”
I groan. I’m not sure she’s right.
“What about all this stuff that’s been going on?” I persist. My bones have been rattled to the core.
“What stuff?”
I fold my arms in front of my chest. “The stuff with Ian and Scott and Brad.”
“Be more specific for me, babe, would you?”
Only my best friend is allowed to call me babe. If a man had just called me that, I would have kicked him between the legs.
I’m not sure if she’s trying to be helpful by asking questions or if she really doesn’t understand my problem.
“You know,” I try again. “Ian’s going to run to Ed and complain, and now Ed will come to me and let his anger out on me.”
Angela shrugs.
“Has anyone else complained about you?”
I think about her question for a minute. At the same time, I watch the movement and color of LA. We are seated in the outside area of the Rest A While café.
From where we are seated, we can see people pass by—they’re on their way home, to a hot date, or some other engagement. Some people are laughing, others have their heads down, and others again look straight ahead, earphones in their ears and their expressions vacant.
I imagine most of them lead fairly uncomplicated lives.
Wouldn’t it be nice to be one of these passers-by who do not seem to have a care in the world?
“Earth to Kayla.” I hear Angela’s voice. Startled, I look at her.
“Has anyone else complained about you?” she repeats her question. She’s speaking slowly, enunciating each word.
“Sorry.” I smile. “I drifted off.”
“Drifted, alright.”
“I haven’t heard about any other complaints.” I don’t tell her about Brad complaining that we need to repeat our antics of the other day. I doubt Angela would class it as the sort of complaint she was asking about.
“So what are you worried about exactly?” She signals the waiter. “I feel like something fatty and sweet.”
I laugh.
“How do you do it?”
“Do what?” Angela asks with total innocence.
“Eat all that fat and sugar and stay super slim.”
Her right hand waves in a dismissive fashion. “It’s easy. Plenty of sex.”
We both burst out laughing.
“And then there’s the gossip piece,” I continue and watch Angela take a forkful of chocolate cake. “It could really hurt my career.”
I’ve been worried about the effect of the piece in the gossip column since I’ve read it.
“You worry too much.”
“I worry just the right amount,” I counter.
“What’s wrong with a bit of gossip? Haven’t you heard the saying ‘Any publicity is good publicity’?”
I shake my head. “I doubt that applies to the type along the lines of head writer engages in threesome with two of her stars.”
“Why not?”
Angela is really unbelievable. I wish I had some of her attitude when it comes to what people think about me.
“It’s that bad girl stuff. Only bad girls have threesomes. I think it might affect my reputation.”
“It’s about spin. If you put a positive spin on it, it won’t give you a bad reputation. And you’re totally wrong—good girls have threesomes as well. Threesomes are all inclusive.”
Lost for a reply, I pinch some of her cake.
“It’s about time you stand up for yourself and what you believe in. You can’t just let people trample all over you. You need to stand up to Ed, and you need to work out if you want to continue to bang your two leads. And if you do, stand up for your personal choice too.”
She continues, “Just because you choose something different, doesn’t make it wrong. If you want to fuck two guys at the same time, that’s your choice. But don’t be ashamed about it.”
“Shush, not so loud. I don’t need another blind piece written about it.” I’m sure I’ve gone bright red.
Angela swallows before she replies. “If I was in your shoes, I’d be shouting it from the top of the Hollywood sign in the hills.”
She takes another bite of cake. “I’d probably write my own gossip column about it to make sure the facts are right.”
The image of Angela doing this makes me laugh. Bad girl Angela, afraid of nothing.
I know she’s right.
Of course, I know she’s right. I do need to stand up for what I want and for what I believe in. Deep down, I agree with my best friend.
Unfortunately, it sounds easier in theory than it is to do in practice.