Kiss me under the Hollywood sign

Chapter 1

The Hollywood sign loomed in the dusty distance, its letters barely legible through the thick smog. You'd think for all the money thrown around this town, they could spring for a power wash or two. As I squinted at it through the grimy windshield of my beaten-down Toyota Camry, I swear I saw a pigeon nesting on the "O."

The air swirling in through my cracked window smelled overwhelmingly of poverty and broken dreams. It was a hot, unpleasant bouquet - like walking into a Bath & Body Works and asking for their "Sad and Hungry" scent. Underneath, you could detect faint whispers of marijuana and regret.

According to my Aunt Mildred, who hasn't left Crawford in 20 years, LA is filled with vain starlets who've had so much Botox injected, their faces now resemble melted plastic grocery bags. Something tells me Aunt Mildred may have gotten her information from an episode of E! True Hollywood Story she saw one time in 2002.

As I swallowed down the nausea and car sickness (though it could have just been the gas station sushi from last night), I felt both terrified and thrilled to trade my small Georgia town for the concrete jungle. The hollering horns and screeching brakes were a far cry from the peaceful chirps of crickets. This was to be my big break - or possibly my big mistake. Only time would tell if I had just driven straight into the lion's mouth.

My phone buzzed, Sarah's name flashing on the screen. "Almost there, Em?" her voice crackled through the receiver.

"Just passed the giant 'H,'" I replied, my voice strained with a blend of awe and apprehension.

"Perfect! I'm at the coffee shop around the corner. Grab a latte and your bearings, then swing by." Sarah instructed.

I glanced warily down the narrow street, "Latte, check. Bearings..." I paused, gripping the phone tighter. "hmm, still working on those."

"Don't worry, I'll guide you in. Besides, you can't get lost in this city without bumping into at least three aspiring actors and a reality TV star." Sarah reassured.

"Oh... believe me...with my sense of direction... I could get lost searching for the coffee in this place." I thought back to our hapless subway story with a shudder.

"Remember that time we tried to find Coney Island and ended up in Queens? I still have nightmares about that ride back."

Sarah gasped in mock offense. "How was I supposed to know the subway lines weren't clearly labeled? I thought the F took us to Funland, not Far Rockaway." she replied.

I smiled weakly. "At least we got a good story out of it. I'm sure my anecdote about the angry seagulls and the family of raccoons will be a hit at parties for years."

Sarah cackled gleefully, "Just don't tell people we actually paid money to get on that ferry. I'd like to maintain some shred of dignity." she laughed.

I sighed. "Your secret's safe with me! Now which coffee shop was it again?" I clutched the phone tighter.

"It's the one next to the used bookstore where all the books have inspiring quotes stickers plastered on the front. You'll know it when you see the display of crystals in the window and smell the patchouli." she described.

"Say no more, I'll be banging on the glass waiting for you in five. Save me a scone if they have any left - I'm starving!" I blabbered.

She chuckled, and the sound eased my nerves a little. Sarah, my best friend and now roommate, was my lifeline in this concrete jungle. We'd met in college, two small-town girls with big dreams of making it in the big leagues. She'd landed a job as a casting director, her foot already in the door, while I, armed with a degree in screenwriting and a head full of quirky stories, was just starting my climb.