Barefoot In The City Of Broken Dreams Part 23

Regina sent us a postcard of the Grand Canyon from Arizona. They could have emailed or texted us, or posted on my wall on Facebook. But there was something about a postcard that seemed so perfect, like they were on vacation in some distant far-away place, completely out of touch from the place Kevin and I were. Which they sort of were.

The postcard read: Dear Russel and Kevin: Turns out there's life outside of Los Angeles! Who knew? We couldn't be happier. (But we still wish you all the best in the world and hope to see Russel's name on a movie screen very soon!) Much love, Regina and Gina * * *

Incidentally, I never heard anything else from the ghost of Cole Gordon, and I've never felt his presence again either. a.s.suming he ever existed at all, I have a feeling he's gone for good.

Somehow I also have this feeling I made him happy.

The biggest news of the last five months? It happened just yesterday morning.

I was waiting for Kevin when he woke up.

"Get dressed," I said.

"What is it?" he said. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Now I have a surprise for you."

"What is it?"

"Trust me, okay?"

Once in the car, we drove down Franklin, under the Hollywood Freeway, then took a left on Beachwood, heading up into the Hollywood Hills.

"I think I know what we're doing," Kevin said.

I smiled to myself.

Finally, we pa.s.sed a metal gate and arrived at a dirt parking lot. It was early-ish on a weekday, so there weren't very many other cars.

There was a wide dirt trail - bigger than a normal trail, but not quite a gravel road - that wound its way into the hills, past the scrub and rocks. Unfortunately, it was completely covered with mounds of horse s.h.i.+t drying (and stinking) in the sun. It was seriously like walking through a field of landmines. I know Kevin saw it - he had to in order to avoid stepping in it - but he didn't say anything, which made me love him even more than I already did.

After a few minutes of hiking, the road rose, and the land beyond fell away, and we had this awesome view of the famous "Hollywood" sign, on the hill just across from us.

Now Kevin smiled.

We kept following the road, avoiding horse s.h.i.+t, up hills and switchbacks. Then the way split again, the road continuing off to the right, but a trail heading over to the left.

I led Kevin left, finally leaving all the s.h.i.+t behind.

We hiked along the trail now, winding between more hills and up switchbacks, always ultimately in the direction of the sign looming above us. It blazed white in the sun, and it felt a little like a lighthouse leading us on, directing us home. With each step, little by little, that sign grew larger. The sun was brighter now, hot. We were starting to sweat, and I was glad I'd brought bottled water.

The dirt trail met a road - paved, but long since abandoned, cracked and covered with rocks. Now we followed that road as it climbed ever higher. At some point, the Hollywood sign disappeared from view.

Finally, up ahead, the road turned left. There was a chain-link fence all along the right side of the road, but it's not like there was barbed wire on the top or anything.

I grabbed Kevin's hand, and we walked closer. Out beyond the fence, the whole city rolled out before us, hazy and sprawling, so vast it felt like you could see the curvature of the earth, even though they say that's impossible except from outer s.p.a.ce. On the other side of that fence, down below us, the letters in the Hollywood sign towered upward. We were behind them, so we could see the metal scaffolding behind each of the individual letters. From below, the letters don't look that big, but up close, they're ma.s.sive: each one is maybe fifty feet tall. Somehow we were the only people there.

Here's where I could tell you the whole story of the Hollywood sign, but you've probably already heard it. Besides, it has nothing to do with the Big News I mentioned before.

There were signs on the chain link fence that said Restricted Entry: No Hiking Allowed to the Hollywood Sign.

If this was the end of a screenplay I was writing, I'd probably have us ignore the sign and hop the fence, then climb up the scaffolding of one of the letters - maybe the "D" since it has the most room on top - and do the rest of this scene while sitting together looking down at the city. It'd make a great visual.

The truth is, people used to try to do that all the time, which is why there are motion detectors everywhere, and surveillance cameras on every single letter (with infrared for night viewing!), and even live microphones so the people watching can yell at you. They now take trespa.s.sing really, really seriously. If you climb over the fence, they immediately sense you, and they send helicopters to arrest you and issue you a ma.s.sive fine (and also make you pay for the cost of the helicopters).

This doesn't have anything to do with my Big News either, but I think it's really interesting.

"What movie was filmed here?" Kevin said, staring down at the sights.

"Who cares?" I said.

He looked over at me, confused.

I got down on one knee and pulled a gold ring out of my pocket, and held it up to him. "Kevin Land," I said, "will you marry me?"

For a brief instant, he looked stunned. He'd expected us to come to the Hollywood sign, but he hadn't expected this, which is exactly what I'd wanted. As for the ring itself, was it an engagement ring, or the wedding ring itself? h.e.l.l, I didn't know, but buying it and giving it to him then somehow felt really right.

His smile broke through the haze of his face.

"Oh, G.o.d, yes," he said. "You didn't even need to ask."

He pulled me up and planted one, way better than any perfect movie kiss, because it was real.

Los Angeles is such a G.o.dd.a.m.n a.s.shole. It's so fickle! It doesn't care whose dreams it breaks. Sure, it sometimes grants people's dreams. It has to do that, otherwise it would be a slot machine that never paid out, so people would eventually stop playing. And - let's face it - more than anyone I know, Otto really does deserve his success.

But for most people, most of the time, Los Angeles just s.h.i.+ts all over you.

Still, if I've learned anything from my time spent in this a.s.shole of a city, it's that you don't necessarily need to play by its rules. Sometimes you can take the pieces of your broken dreams and turn them into something else, something unexpected. I'd like to think Zoe will do that.

And at any point, you can give up the game completely. You can just get up and walk away, like Regina and Gina. I used to think there was some kind of shame in quitting, especially after working so hard and so long, but now I know that's not necessarily true. a.s.shole Los Angeles can break your dreams, but it sure as h.e.l.l can't break you, not unless you let it.

Love is the other thing that a.s.shole Los Angeles can't break. You have to be stupid enough to do that yourself.

Talk about your Hollywood endings! This one's the oldest in the book: like Dorothy and her ruby slippers, I had the thing I most needed right with me all along, I just didn't know it yet. I don't care if this particular ending has been done before, or if it's not cynical enough for modern audiences, or if the whole idea really is too cheesy. It's still the truth.

As I put the ring on Kevin's finger, he said, "When do you wanna do it?"

"Get married?" I said, and he nodded. "Why not this summer? We can rent out a bed and breakfast on Vashon Island for the weekend and invite all our friends."

"I love it," he said.

I'd bought a ring for myself, and Kevin saw it and put it on my finger too. The gold on our fingers blazed in the sun, leaving light trails like in some cool photograph.

Finally, we both turned and stood facing the back of the Hollywood sign and the endless city spread out before us. I was thinking about Kevin, and all that had happened to me in Los Angeles, and I'm totally realizing the irony even as I'm telling you this, but I can honestly say that in my entire life, I had never felt so f.u.c.king alive.

Coming in March 2016:.

The Road to Amazing, the story of Russel and Kevin's crazy weekend wedding.

BOOKS BY BRENT HARTINGER.

Russel Middlebrook: The Futon Years.

(Adult Books).

* The Thing I Didn't Know I Didn't Know (Book 1).

* Barefoot in the City of Broken Dreams (Book 2) * The Road to Amazing (Book 3, March 2016).

The Russel Middlebrook Series.

(Young Adult Books).

* Geography Club (Book 1).

* The Order of the Poison Oak (Book 2) * Double Feature: Attack of the Soul-Sucking Brain Zombies/Bride of the Soul-Sucking Brain Zombies (Book 3) * The Elephant of Surprise (Book 4).

Other Books.

* Three Truths and a Lie (2016).

* The Divide (2017) * Shadow Walkers.

* Project Sweet Life.

* Grand & Humble * The Last Chance Texaco.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.

Brent Hartinger is an author, playwright, and screenwriter. Geography Club, the book in which Russel Middlebrook first appears (as a teenager), is also a successful stage play and a feature film co-starring Scott Bakula and Nikki Blonsky. Brent's other books include the forthcoming gay teen thriller Three Truths and a Lie, and the forthcoming supernatural thriller The Divide (co-written with Michael Jensen). He also has a number of film projects in active development.

In 1990, Brent helped found one of the world's first LGBT teen support groups, in his hometown of Tacoma, Was.h.i.+ngton. In 2005, he co-founded the entertainment website AfterElton.com, which was sold to MTV/Viacom in 2006. He currently co-hosts a podcast called Media Carnivores from his home in Seattle, where he lives with his husband, writer Michael Jensen. Read more by and about Brent, or contact him at brenthartinger.com.

If you enjoyed this book, please consider posting a review wherever you typically share your opinions about books. Also, sign up for the author's newsletter (and receive a free ebook), like him on Facebook, or follow him on Twitter.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.

Thanks, as always, to the holy trinity: my husband Michael Jensen, my editor Stephen Fraser, and my agent Jennifer De Chiara.

Thanks also to Philip Malaczewski for creating great book jackets, and Samuel Sebasti Holden Bramah for his terrific Spanish translations.

Early readers who generously contributed their time and extremely helpful opinions include Dori Butler, Allison Ca.s.satta, Louis Flint Ceci, Ulysses Dietz, Nathan Edmonds, Neil Jackson, Crystal King, Bill Konigsberg, Darren LaFrance, Nate Leslie, Austin McCray, Kevin Miller, Peter Monn, Kevin Moser, Joel Mosqueira, Tim O'Leary, Nate Leslie, Megan Opperman, Robin Reardon, R.J. Seeley, Tristan Shout, Bret Tiderman, Gregory Taylor, Peter Wright, and Perie Wolford.

And yet another cheer for my a.s.sortment of creative genius friends: Tom Baer, Tim Cathersal, Lori Grant, Erik Hanberg, Marcy Rodenborn, James Venturini, and Sarah Warn.

Copyright 2015 Brent Hartinger.

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