Page 49 of Hollywood, Ending

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I finally called my dad that morning, sitting in what I had come to think of as my tiny pool. It was really just an oversized bathtub, but it was mine, for two more days anyway. My dad picked up on the first ring. “Kai, where are you right now?”

“I’m in a hotel in California.”

“I’m fishing on the goddamned White River with Mike Curless. You remember Mike?”

“Sure, of course,” I said. “Tell Mike I said hi.”

“My son the famous actor says hi, Mike. How’s Hollywood?”

“I saw the movie, and I think it’s good.”

“Can’t wait to watch it. We’ve got our tickets to New York booked and everything, me and your mom and Emma and your brother. Your brother’s here, too. You want to say hello?”

“Yeah,” I said, although I didn’t, really. “Hey, Alex.”

“How’s Hollywood?”

“Good, I guess.”

“I can’t believe I get updates on your love life from my google alerts.”

“You do?”

“Just this morning. You’re dating that girl from the movie. June?”

I sighed. “Don’t believe everything you read.”

“She’s a cutie.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“I’d hit it,” he said.

“Good to know,” I answered.

“Christ, you don’t have to get defensive. I thought she wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“She’s not,” I said. “How’s Emma?” His wife.

“Great. We’re excited for the premiere. Emma got an outfit and everything. Hot as hell.”

“Cool, yeah, I hope you like the movie.”

“Honestly, Kai, a night out with no kids at this point and I don’t give a shit how terrible the movie is.”

“Thanks, I guess,” I said, and then he must have handed the phone back to my dad, who asked me about the weather and if I was staying at the same hotel as him in New York. “I might come home for a few days this weekend if that’s okay,” I told him.

“Home like here?”

“Home like there.”

“Well, you’re always welcome.”

I texted Ellen that I wanted to fly to Indianapolis, and then sat in my room for a while scrolling through Instagram. Juniper texted and asked if I wanted to go to lunch. I asked if we could just order room service, because I didn’t feel like being photographed. She wrote back, My place or yours? with one of those ambiguous smiling emojis I couldn’t quite translate. Emojis exist to clarify language, but the real problem is that no one actually wants to be clear.

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