I’m feeling so good. It’s like I don’t even care what happens now, because I’ve had this day with Kara. She’s so liberating. I glance at her sitting in the passenger seat. She’s called me Lance ever since we had our discussion in the convenience store parking lot, and the name isn’t so bad coming off her lips.

“Can I see your place?” she asks, jolting me out of my thoughts.

“Really?”

“I want to see where you live, Jim. I think I’m ready for it.”

I don’t say anything.

“Is that all right?” she asks.

My cell rings. First call on the new phone. I fish it out of my pocket.

“Hello?”

“Jim! Rich!”

“Rich, what’s up?”

“I didn’t see you again at La Casa, so I thought I’d call about Tuesday night. The premiere’s at the El Capitan. How many people you bringing?”

“Just me and a date.”

“I’ll have my assistant add you to the guest list. The party should be a real kick. Brendan’s coming. Max and Brody, too. Everyone’ll be just thrilled to see you. It’s going to be lavish.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, then. You need anything, anything at all, I’m your man.”

“You’re a good friend, Rich.”

“Where are you? Sounds like you’re in a plane or something.”

“Actually, I’m heading down the 405. I spent the day with this lovely woman I met last night at the club.” I look at Kara as I say this. Homerun.

“You must have the top down on your Porsche.”

“Oh yeah. I guess you can hear all the wind.”

“Well, you’re breaking up. I’ll see you Tuesday then. What’s that?” he says to someone else. “Oh yes, Margot sends her love.”

“Right back at her.”

“He says right back at you, babe.”

“What? Oh, that hurts. She asks if your torrid love affair is back on.”

“Absolutely.”

“Well then, goodnight you bastard.”

I close the phone and look over at Kara.

“Do you have plans Tuesday evening?”

“Nothing in stone.”

“Would you come with me to a movie premier and a party afterward?”

Her eyes kindle, then die.

“Jim, I’d be terrible company.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“It’s no fun being the only nobody at a party.”

“You aren’t a nobody.”

“No offense, but in a roomful of stars, I’m a nobody. You don’t want to take me, Jim.”

“I do. And I don’t want to hear you say that nobody business anymore.”

“You don’t have any idea what it’s like to be obscure. And the prospect of having to mingle with movie stars isn’t enjoyable for me.”

“If you want to have a relationship with me, Kara, it’s something you’ll have to learn to deal with. People respect me. They’ll respect my date.”

She sighs. You can tell that deep down she really wants to go. I mean, who wouldn’t?

“You better hold my hand through the whole thing. I mean it, Jim.”

“What happened to Lance?”

She doesn’t ask to see my house again. I drop Kara at her apartment and promise to call her tomorrow with details of the premiere. It’s devastating watching her walk away toward the lobby of her building.

The best day of my life has ended.

Chapter 16

back in time for dinner ~ takes a stroll with Bo and cold beer ~ talks about Kara ~ sits on a bleacher and talks about fame ~ insomnia, then sleep

The Dunkquists are just sitting down to dinner when I return to Altadena. Hannah has prepared something called white chili and jalapeno cornbread. She tells me she’s glad I got back in time to join them.

After dinner, I ask Bo to take a walk with me, and he grabs a couple bottles of German beer from the fridge and checks with Hannah to see if it’d be all right for him to step out for a minute. I think it’s pretty sad when an adult has to ask permission to go outside.

“Your son needs a bath,” she says from the kitchen sink. We’re standing in the foyer by the front door.

“I’ll give him one when I get back.”

“It’s seven forty-five, Bo.”

“Then you wash him, Hannah, and I’ll do the dishes.”

Hannah drops a drinking glass into the dishwater (it breaks) and walks over to the breakfast table where Sam still sits in his highchair, playing with his food. As she slides out the tray, Bo pushes open the front door, and I follow him outside.

I love Bo’s neighborhood at night. The crickets are chirping, the bungalows all aglow. The street is empty so we walk right down the middle of it, the lawn sprinklers whispering on either side of us, the soles of our loafers dragging along the pavement. Bo hands me a beer and a bottle opener from his pocket.

“Sorry I got you in trouble back there,” I say.

“Not your fault, Lance. We, uh…we have some things to work on. Hannah’s an intense person.” I’m not really sure, but I think that just means spoiled bitch.

The beer is dark, thick-tasting, and creamy, like cold, black coffee. I like it.

I tell Bo about my day with Kara. About Mt. Pinos and the meadow. I describe what she looks like, how she’s a grad student at UCLA. He’s so happy for me. You know how sometimes, when you tell someone a piece of good news about yourself, you can tell they don’t really care? It’s not like that at all with Bo. It’s like he’d spent the day with Kara.

We walk all the way to this soccer field. I feel lightheaded in a pleasant way. I think it’s from this good, strong beer. The goals are rusted, nets tattered. Bo and I head for the solitary bleacher. The sound of its metal resonating under our feet reminds me of playing baseball in middle school. That was the last good time before now.

We sit looking out across the playing field and drinking beer.

“Lance,” Bo says, “I’m glad you’re here, pal. I really am.”

I look at my brother and smile. I think I’ll just ask him.

“Could I have your opinion on something?” I say.

“Sure.”

I polish off the rest of my beer and set the bottle beside me.

“I haven’t really told Kara the truth about some things.”

“Like what?”

“About living with Mom and Dad for seventeen years and being sort of a loser.”

“You aren’t a loser, Lance.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Lance.” He takes hold of my arm and finds my eyes. “You aren’t a loser. I’ve always thought you had this special insight, that you really saw people for what they were.”

“Who’d you want to be when you were a kid?”

“You mean like a profession?”

“No, a person. Like a star.”

“Oh.” He considers this for a moment. “When I was thirteen, I wanted to be Tommy Fields.”

“From The No-Names?”

“Yeah.”

I laugh, because Tommy Fields was a skinny, long-haired rock star from the mid-70’s. He was always being rebellious in interviews, and all of the songs he wrote were titled “Bad Love” or “Dying for You.” Real subtle themes. But he accidentally lit himself on fire during a concert in 1980, and no one ever heard about him after that.

“Why’d you want to be him?” I ask.

“I don’t know. It was just a stupid fantasy.”

“No, really. Think about it.”

He thinks about it.

“Well, I loved rock-and-roll. I mean, who doesn’t want to stand in front of a screaming crowd? It’d be a thrill.”

“Yeah. To have everyone know you and love you. Doesn’t it ever make you sad being obscure?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Right now, you and I are sitting here in a huge, exciting world, just two normal guys that no one’s ever heard of, and no one ever will. Doesn’t that make you sad?”

“No.”

“Well, it does me.”

“Why?”

“Because when I die, I’ll be instantly forgotten. You and Mom and Dad will remember me, but that’s just until you croak. Think about how presidents feel, even the bad ones. And movie stars. Even washed-up ones. They know that even if they were to die tomorrow, they’d be remembered. They made a dent, you know? Can you imagine what that must feel like?”