Ryden Oneshots

Third Street

“Are you done, yet?” Spencer asks me with a bored sigh.

“No,” I simply state while grabbing another hat. I stick it on my head and look at myself in the mirror, moving my head to see how it looks at other angles. I turn to Spencer. “How does this one look?”

“Like the 50 million other hats you’ve tried on. Just pick one and buy it so we can go and have dinner. I’m starving.”

I stare at the rack for about a minute and pick up the one I want. I smile because I know Spencer’s going to freak out on me in 3... 2... 1...

“That’s the first one you put on!” I laugh at Spencer because it is really all his fault. He’s been my best friend since we were kids. He should know what shopping with me is like. Especially, when it comes to hats. I pay for the hat, and Spencer and I walk out of Lids and into the bright sunshine that is Santa Monica in September. I’d wanted a new hat, and Spencer had wanted to see a movie so we’d decided to go to the promenade on Third St. We’ve been going there ever since we were kids. I love coming here to watch all the passers-by and to listen to the music that the random performers play in the middle of the street.

“So where to?” I ask Spencer. “You dragged me out of there so you’d better know where you want to go.”

“I’m hungry so we’re getting food.”

“Well, where are we going?” I see him looking around us for the closest acceptable place for us to eat.

“There!” he says with a smile as he points to a sports bar that we frequent.

“Good choice,” I say as we head over to the restaurant.

The hostess seats us outside, which is fine with me because the inside is filled with screaming college students watching an intense football game. I’m only here for the food. Which is delicious, by the way. Between the two of us, we down a basket of cheese fries, tons of iced tea, two huge sandwiches (Philly cheesesteak for Spencer, chipotle chicken for me), and more fries.

There is a lull in our conversation as we’re waiting for our check. Spencer, I can see, is slipping into a food coma so I gaze out into the promenade and see a familiar girl who meets my eyes and waves. I wave back with a small smile. She was my girlfriend once upon a time. She’s a perfectly nice girl; any guy would be lucky to have her. Unfortunately, it took this guy a while to figure out that the problem with our relationship was that I just wasn’t into girls. I sigh and go back to looking around, but none of the guys walking by catch my eye.

Finally, the waitress comes and hands me the check. We pay and leave with still a couple of hours left before we have to be at the theater. We make our way across the street to a book store to kill more time, resulting in me leaving with seven books and Spencer with eight CDs.

We finally decide to sit on a bench and watch the street performers before the movie starts. We laugh and discuss the old man with just a stereo and a microphone singing songs in Spanish. Then there’s the magician a bit down the road attracting tourists with card tricks. Spencer and I muse about how he turned the standard deck into a deck full of twos of clubs.

“Well,” I say, “maybe he’s got a trick deck up his--”

The rest of that sentence is lost as the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard fills the air and attracts my attention. I look around, searching for the source, and I notice the old man has left and has been replaced by a young man on an acoustic guitar and another on keyboard.

The man on guitar is sitting on a stool, strumming and picking along to the Death Cab for Cutie song I immediately recognize as one of my favorites. His flip flop clad foot taps out the beat, and he plays the song with his eyes on the fret board and a smile playing on his lips behind a well-groomed beard. But his lips aren’t moving so I know it isn’t him singing.