Page 8 of All That Glitters

Chapter six

The Easiest Move Ever

Debbie’s new apartment complex was a winding maze of two-story stucco buildings, painted the color of faded coral.

She breathed deeply of the cool ocean air as she climbed from her car.

The temperature had already reached one hundred when she left Phoenix just six hours earlier; and here in San Diego, it couldn’t be over seventy.

She looked around the parking lot, and her face broke into a smile when she spotted Tony standing outside his truck, a cup of coffee in each hand. It already felt like home.

“Hey,” he said with a bright smile as he walked over and handed her one of the coffees before wrapping her in a hug. “You look like someone who just escaped a furnace.”

“Would you believe it was already a hundred when I left?” she said as they released each other.

He nodded. “Why do you think I never go home, except for Christmas.”

“I thought it was to avoid me breaking your stuff.”

He laughed. “Maybe a little of that too. Speaking of which, how many cars did you hit on the way here?”

“None!” she said, playfully swatting his arm. “And no picking on me today. I’m going through a traumatic life change.”

He laughed, squeezing her with an affectionate side hug. “Deal. No teasing Debbie until she’s acclimated to being out of her parents’ home. So, where’s your stuff?”

“You’re looking at it,” Debbie said, nodding to her car, where every worldly possession she owned was crammed into the backseat and trunk.

Two suitcases of clothes, her laptop bag, a box of books, and a sad little houseplant named Gerald that was already looking wilted from the drive.

That was it. The total of twenty-two years of existence.

“No bed?”

“Nope. Veronica said she had a spare one and dresser I can use. Pretty pathetic, isn’t it?” She gestured at her meager belongings. “I’m like a vagrant with a college degree. Most people my age at least own furniture. Or dishes. Or... anything substantial.”

“You’re not looking at the bright side.”

“There’s a bright side to having zero worldly possessions?”

He gave a big nod. “Yup. This is going to be the easiest move ever. And as your friend, who’s probably going to be stuck helping every time you move, I need you to promise me you’ll never buy anything bigger than a desk lamp. Or maybe a pencil sharpener.”

She shot him a curious look, trying to figure out where this sudden burst of energy came from. “I promise?”

“Good. And I’m holding you to that. Let’s get you unpacked, and then I have someplace I want to take you.”

“Where?”

“Remember La Jolla?”

She thought about it for a second. “Yeah. That’s the place your parents used to take us on vacation. Wasn’t it back in like third grade?”

“I think it was second and third,” he said. “It was before your parents started dragging you to Oklahoma for vacations.”

“Over their daughter’s objections, as usual.”

“We’ll get you unpacked and head over there.”

“Are the sea lions still there?”

Tony shot her a grin. “You afraid they’re gonna chase you again?”

She gave a big nod. “Those things are fast. And mean.”

“The sign did say, ‘Do Not Bother the Sea Lions’.”

“I was seven. How was I supposed to know what it said?”

He laughed. “Let’s hurry with your stuff, so we can catch the sunset over the water.” He opened her trunk and pulled out two suitcases while she grabbed Gerald and a box from her backseat.

“So, ask me about my screenplay,” he said.

She shot him an odd look. “Your what?”

“The screenplay I’m writing,” he said as he picked up the suitcases and they headed toward her apartment. “I told you about it when I called.”

“Yeah. But that was two days ago. I thought you’d be on to something new by now.”

He shook his head. “Not this time. This one’s got traction. I even came up with a title for it. You wanna hear it?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“Yup. And since you asked so enthusiastically, it’s called ‘The Frat.’ You’ll never guess what it’s about.”

“Wild guess here. A fraternity?”

“Yup. But not just any fraternity, Deb. A fraternity of vampires.”

She just looked at him. “Oh.”

“And by ‘oh,’ you mean, gee, that sounds super cool, Tony. Tell me about it.”

“You’re about to, aren’t you?”

He smiled and gave her a big nod. “Yup. And since you asked so enthusiastically again, it’s about a fraternity that promises you wealth and power and immortality. You know, kind of Faustian-themed. But the catch is, you lose your soul and need to kill people.”

She stopped at the base of the stairs and eyed him for a moment. “That actually sounds kind of cool. Where’d you get the idea to write a screenplay?”

“You remember my friend Jeff?”

“The one with esquire after his name?”

Tony chuckled as they climbed the flight of stairs to her apartment. “That’s his wishful thinking. I doubt he can stop chasing girls long enough to finish law school, but stranger things have happened.”

“Like Tony Harding sticking with his latest get-rich-quick scheme for over two days?”

“Exactly!” The slight was either missed on him, or he chose to ignore it.

“Jeff showed me this article about a stripper who sold a screenplay, and now she’s killing it in Hollywood.

And then I found this other article about a broke writer who was house-sitting for a friend when he came up with this idea for a horror script.

He wrote it, sold it for six figures, and now he’s making millions writing movies and TV shows. That’s gonna be me, Deb.”

Debbie nodded, all of it making sense now. “Now I get it.”

“Get what?”

“This sudden manic energy and excitement. You get it every time you concoct a new get-rich-quick scheme.”

“Yeah. But this time it’s different. This time, I actually have a plan and five pages of notes.”

Debbie could only shake her head in amusement. She’d seen him like this too many times over the years; he’d get excited over one of his new schemes, then move on to something else a week later.

“This is the part where you ask me to read my five pages of notes,” he said.

“Is that what you deduced from my lack of a response?”

Debbie braced Gerald against her hip while she fished the key from her pocket and opened the door. They stepped inside and set her stuff on the floor of the small living room. The apartment was tiny but sunny, with big windows that faced the courtyard, letting in the California sun.

“Why, sure, Deb. I would be happy to email you my five pages of notes,” he said.

Debbie shook her head in amusement. “Go ahead and send me your pages,” she said, carrying her plant over to the kitchen faucet and pouring some cool water on it. “But if this ends up being like that Star Wars novel you started writing in eighth grade and gave up on after a week, I’m billing you.”

“First of all, that was Space Wars. And this is completely different.”

“Different how?”

“I’m much more mature now.”

Debbie snickered, waiting for the punchline.

“Okay,” he backpedaled. “Maybe a little more mature.”

“How about we just settle for older,” she said.

“Fine. Older. And I know how to type now. So, what do you think?”

“Honest opinion?”

“If that’s the one where you say, ‘Cool idea, Tony, you should do it’.”

She gave a light chuckle. “Okay, honest opinion. I think it could be pretty cool if — and that’s a massive if — you finish it.”

“I’ll finish it. And you know how I know that? Because I’m recruiting you to make sure I do.”

Debbie did a double-take. “Me?”

“Yup.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“The same way you always have. You have this weird, annoying way of pushing me to get things done. Remember that go-kart we made back in fifth grade?”

Debbie let out a groan and shook her head. “Don’t remind me.”

“Hey. It might not have looked that great, but it got finished because of you. Me, Kevin, and Mark had pretty much given up on it, but you kept coming over every day, dragging all that wood you found in alleys and hammering it together. There was no way we were gonna let a girl show us up, so we jumped back in.”

“It looked like a coffin that someone ran over,” Debbie chuckled.

“Yeah. But it was our coffin. And the point of all that being, you motivated us to finish it. And now, I need you to work that same annoying Debbie Campbell persistence on me to make sure I don’t flake on my screenplay.”

Debbie watched him for a moment. She didn’t say it, but Tony’s recognition of her contribution to their club, and the go-kart in particular, meant a lot to her. And it meant even more that he was trusting her to help keep him motivated to finish his screenplay.

“Can I inflict creative punishments if I catch you slacking?”

“What kind of punishments?” he asked, suddenly second-guessing this whole idea.

She just smiled and shook her head. “Nope. Just don’t slack, and you’ll never have to find out.”

Before either of them could say another word, a bright red Vespa puttered up out front and parked. A moment later, Debbie’s new roommate, Veronica Hamlin, clomped up the outside stairs and came in, shaking the helmet-head from her cascade of blond hair.

“Hey. You must be the new roomie,” Veronica said, extending her hand. “Veronica Hamlin.”

Although this was their first time meeting in person, the girls had spoken several times on the phone after Tony introduced them.

Veronica and Tony had shared several classes over the past four years, becoming fast friends over a common love of microbrews and greasy Mexican food from San Diego’s all-night taco shops.

The timing had worked out perfectly with Veronica’s college roommate moving out at the same time Debbie was looking for a place to stay, so he’d introduced them.

The girls hit it off over the phone, and Veronica mailed Debbie a spare key in case Debbie arrived while Veronica was out.

“Debbie Campbell,” Debbie said, shaking hands. “You missed all the fun.”

Veronica looked around the living room at the sparse belongings. “I can see. So, this is it?”

Debbie nodded. “Sad, isn’t it?”