Page 52 of Size King

After we play for about a half hour, we all walk back to the beach house together. Luke is talking to a tall, leggy blonde, leaving me defenseless on our way back. Soon, a different blonde comes skipping up to me, carrying her sandals.

“The sand is getting in my shoes!” the blonde says with enthusiasm, her voluptuous chest bouncing in her skimpy suit.

“Now your feet are all sandy,” I say.

“Yeah, it’s killing me,” she says. “I’m going to have to take a shower after this.”

“There’s four in the house.”

She adjusts her bikini top, arranging her chest for me to see.

“So,” she says. “Luke tells me that your father owns a production company here.”

“My father and I don’t talk,” I say.

“Oh, Luke made it sound like you worked in film,” the blonde says, sounding disappointed.

“I’m sure he did,” I say, scoffing. “What do you do?”

“I’m an Instagram model.”

“Cool,” I say, uninterested.

I remain uninterested in every girl that comes on to me that night. Many girls come up to me throughout the party, but I give none of them enough energy to pretend to care about anything they have to say. My somberness from earlier hasn’t left me, even with the herd of lovely ladies and limitless liquor at my disposal.

I watch Luke from time to time, listening to him schmooze and network with some of the guests. He has been trying to get his own reality show for years, and while his journey to get it produced has been lengthy and ongoing, he remains optimistic. His concepts would change annually, but he always feels like he has to be on television.

His parents, Bradley and Laura Bishop, are actors on the famous soap operaRiptide Way.They met each other on the soap, got married, and continued being the stars of the soap opera over the next thirty-five years. They are close to retirement, so Luke is really pushing the idea of his reality show being created before the Bishop name fades from the mainstream. He looks at himself as “entertainment royalty” and feels he is owed his time in the spotlight.

Whenever Luke wants a break from his networking sessions, he finds me and chills, bringing me a beer each time.

“I’ve been sending babes your way all night, bro,” Luke mutters. “I expected you to be hooking up with one of these Insta-models by now.”

“I’m good, man,” I say dismissively.

“No, something’s up,” he says. “You come to L.A. to get laid. Are you not feeling well? Do you have the flu?”

“I don’t just come here to hook-up,” I say. “We’re homies. I like to hang out.”

“Me too, but come on,” says Luke. “I noticed you seeming kind of out of it last time you were here, too. What’s going on? Talk to the prince.”

Even though he considers himself entertainment royalty, I don’t exactly share the same viewpoint. “Prince Luke, huh?”

“You can still just call me Luke.” He laughs.

“I don’t know, man. It’s just—it’s getting old for me. It’s all a game. And it’s become too easy for me to play. It’s not really fun for me anymore.”

“I thought it was always fun to have sex with hot girls,” says Luke.

“I want something more meaningful than that,” I tell him. “I’ve been doing the ‘party and get laid’ thing for like, almost seven years.”

“I thought that was what you wanted,” Luke says, growing deflated the more I speak.

“It’s not like I haven’t been having an awesome time,” I assure him. “I’m just ready for a change, I think. Hell, maybe I’ll go after someone with a little more meat on her bones. I forget how populated L.A. is with skinny blondes trying to become models the longer I’m away from it.”

“Skinny blondes trying to become models is an attraction factor for wanting to live out here,” he says.

“True,” I say. “But who knows?”