In the year 2002, four twenty-something-year-olds attempt to navigate their surroundings in New York City while getting drawn into a culture of drugs, glamor, and violence.
At the same time, an old bookstore clerk struggles to overcome grief, until...
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After work, Amanda invites Holden to her luscious apartment where they discuss strategies about his client's incredible draft. He revised the typed pages from beginning to end, whereas Amanda called her friends from the writing community.
She walks across the elegant kitchen, sporting a gray Ivy League t-shirt and red shorts. She twirls her finger around the white, spiral phone cord as though Amanda is calling her boyfriend.
Meanwhile, Holden has been exchanging emails with Jaime, promising her that her short story will get published. Fingers on the dusty keys. Citrus soars through the boy's nose, causing Holden to sneeze in his arm. The functioning air conditioner blasts cold air, forcing the chandelier to rocks slowly above Holden's head.
After hitting the SEND button, he removes his shoes before walking across Amanda's black, ancient rug. His feet brush against the white carpet. He stares at the massive bookshelf near her computer desk. Paintings—of all different sizes— fill the bland walls with a variety of soft blues and bold purples.
He continues marveling at the apartment until he glimpses Amanda's Ivy League diploma, hanging above her desk.
"Jesus Christ." Holden whistles in amusement.
Although he spent two years at Harvard, Holden had trouble relating to his privileged peers. The lessons were severe, the recreations didn't entertain him, and the sex wasn't all too pleasing.
The only excitement he had was coming out as asexual. It helped him realize how much he was wasting his life. Holden's father convinced him to stay a little longer, but Holden wanted nothing to do with college.
So he dropped out and made a name for himself at the Simon & Schuster publishing house. With his mom's help and his impeccable resume, Holden had started an entry-level job as his employer's assistant and editor.
"Do you know any great literary agents?" he asks her. Amanda happily refills his glass of red wine then stares at the white curtains. "As you said before, that Jaime girl needs someone to trust."
Amanda nods. She sits next to Holden on the luscious, white sofa, giving him her complete attention.
"Yeah," she agreed. "I also mentioned that she can't afford a literary agent."
"I know, but this is crazy." Holden grunts. "She is an incredible writer. The entire world must read her work."
He places the wine on the cluttered glass table then repeats his earlier question. Her hostile eyes flicker at the young Hispanic man. His anxious tone is worrying Amanda, but for the first time, she sees a softer side of Holden. He acknowledges his clients' talents more than his co-workers.
"Well, I know a couple of them who would work for free." Amanda places her feet on her pristine coffee table. Her brown eyes gleam, making Holden feel a little wary about her claims.
