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“I surf.” He laughed. “To be honest, I don’t do a lot. I’m Ross Parish and Linda Cannon’s son. Their only child.”
I looked at him blankly. It was killing me not to laugh.
“From the series 'Couples?'” He pressed, watching my reaction.
“Oh. I heard of that. I think my parents might have watched it? But it’s before my time." I drew in my brows. "So, what does that have to do with you not having a job? Do they not want you to work?”
“They’re rich, beyond comprehension rich, so I don’t have to work.” He looked at my unimpressed face and carried on talking, “I’ve tried to get work, I enjoy acting myself. But it’s proved difficult. I’m not taken seriously because of who I am.”
“So have you tried doing another job where you are taken seriously?” I pressed on, enjoying watching him squirm under my gaze.
“Well, no.”
“So, you surf all day and don’t try to achieve anything in life? Sounds kinda dull.” I took a sip of my coffee.
“I have friends. Best friends. We all grew up in Carbon Beach. They’re like family. We’re all so similar. We hang around together. It’s not a bad life.” He smiled. “And you know, why work when you can play all day?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve had to work ever since I left school and had jobs before that too to help my family. Sounds like you and your homies just bum around all day rejoicing in the fact you don’t have to do a day’s work.” I swiped my purse off the table. “Sounds a good gig if you can get it, but please don’t insult me by saying you can’t get a job because of who you are. Anyone can get a job. Maybe you’d have to come down from that high pedestal you seem to be sat on, but it’s not impossible. I need to go.” I told him.
He reached over and grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry.” He said. Words I wasn’t expecting from the playboy. “I guess I don’t know how to be. You see I’ve never not had money, privilege.”
I scowled but stood still.
“Please sit back down. Look, having you as a friend would be good for me. You can advise me, help me to not come across as so ‘privileged’.” He pouted. “Please?”
I retook my seat. “Fine. But don’t expect me to worship you like some goddamn star. You’re in the position you’re in because of your parents, right? Not because of anything you’ve achieved for yourself?”
“Ouch.” He said, clutching his chest. “You’re a mean girl.”
“Just honest.” I told him.
“Yeah, well be careful here in Malibu, because people don’t tend to stay that way.” He gazed out of the window into the distance. “I’m lucky. Although my parents are wealthy, they’ve done their best to be normal people, normal parents.” He paused. “Maybe not your idea of normal, but for Hollywood’s elite, they’ve done a great job.” He stared into my eyes. “There are many people to watch out for here and you’re fresh meat. Be careful.”
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to clutch my stomach and ask him if he was for real because I was here as I’d been told he was exactly one of those people.
Now I was intrigued. Was he really a very good actor who should get an Oscar for his current performance, never mind not being able to find work as one? Or was something not adding up from Leonie’s story? Well, that’s why I was here, so I might as well make the most of my current opportunity.
“So, I think I’m going to order a burger? What do you recommend?” I asked him. “And do you want another drink or anything to eat? This time they’re on me, rich boy.”
When I returned to the table, Carter told me how he’d lived here for years. How he was settled here and that even if he did find work he never wanted to move away from either Carbon Beach or his friends.
“I have to say you and your friends, it sounds very unique.” I said. “You know, how you’re all so close. Are you like together?” I pushed it. “Sexually, I mean.”
His face flushed. “Whoa, you don’t hold back, do you? In this industry, it’s hard to trust people.” He sat back and laughed. “My God. I just realized that here I am spilling my guts to you. Someone I’ve only just met. You must think I’m crazy. I’m starting to think I am. I don’t normally overshare like this.”
“Hey, I must have an understanding looking face.” I told him.
“You must.” He laughed again. “Anyway, no.” He paused. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to be shocked?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “How can I promise that if I don’t know what you’re going to tell me?”
“True.” He said, and I watched as he bit his lip. “Sometimes we’ve shared women. Like threesomes and stuff. We haven’t done anything with each other.”
“Right. Well, I should imagine that’s quite usual behavior among the elite. I read it in the papers all the time. You know. Bored celebrities looking for kicks. So they do drugs and seek sexual highs.”
“None of us do drugs.” He glared at me. “Never have. One of us had an almost addiction with booze. It’s not a secret. I’m not betraying his confidence telling you this. But no drugs, and no non-consenting women either.”
No, you just destroy their confidence afterwards by rating them sexually and telling them they’re not good enough. I decided these guys were so far removed from the real world they probably had no idea of how cruel they were.
