hard time about paying for lunch was a huge clue Nola probably wouldn’t let me pay her way, but that’s exactly what I intended to do.
“How about you?” she asked, knocking me back to reality. “What do you do?”
“I’m a tech nerd.” Nola cocked an eyebrow and turned her head to the side like she was sizing me up. “What? I don’t look like a computer geek to you?” I asked, grinning. I know that I didn’t. People who don’t know me are more likely to think I steal cars or deal drugs than sit in front of my computer for hours writing code.
She hunched her shoulders, and took another bite of her sandwich. “Well…no, not really.”
“What does it look like I do?”
“I dunno. Act or model or work on cars,” she said. “Isn’t that what everybody does in L.A.?”
I leaned back and laughed. “You got one out of three.”
“Which one?”
“Cars. I love classic cars,” I said, thinking of my ’66 Mustang, and the Chevy Impala I’d been restoring for the past few months. I took her comments about Angelenos and turned them around. “So, how about you? Since you’re in L.A. are you trying to be an actress or model?”
Nola scrunched up her face. “God, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I may have moved here, but I’m not trying to be famous like everyone else. I just want to finish school and get a good job like normal people.”
I had a million questions for Nola about her goals, her dreams, what she was most afraid of, and what she was like as a kid, but I didn’t want to sound like I was interrogating her. Although I’d slept with a lot of women, I never kept one around long enough to really get to know her. I wanted to find out every single thing about Nola, but I knew I had to take it slow.
I bobbed my head and continued making small talk. “So where are you from?”
“All over,” she said just above a whisper.
“Army brat?”
She shook her head. “No, crazy parents.”
My breath caught in my chest. I hoped Nola’s childhood was nothing like mine; my parents were fucking horrible. A small smile crossed her lips that made me relax a little.
“We moved a lot when I was a kid. My dad was a musician and my mom and I tagged along with him on the road. When he died…” Nola’s voice trailed off and her eyes went wet again. I wanted to pull her into a hug but didn’t want to freak her out. “After my dad died, I thought we’d settle down, but my mom kept moving from place to place like she was on the run from his memory.”
Shit, I’d done it again. I’d fucked up and made her think of something painful. “Nola, I’m—“
“It’s cool, Scout.” She smiled but the feeling never reached her eyes. “This is actually the longest I’ve lived in one city.”
“Really?”
“Yup. I’ve been here for three years.”
“And you’re not sick of it yet?” I joked.
“No, it’s by far the nicest place I’ve lived. Well, except Jamaica.”
“Wow, you lived in Jamaica?” My mind was blown. Nola wasn’t the naive girl I thought she was. Still, despite losing her father and having to move around countless times she wasn’t jaded or bitter either. I’d grown up in Pacoima my whole life, my piece-of-shit parents were alive, and I wasn’t as open or as kind as Nola.
“Yeah, my dad had a place in Saint Ann’s Parish and I’d spend all day running around trying to catch lizards or hanging out with my mom at the beach.”
“That sounds amazing, Nola. Maybe you can show me around one day.”
Her face fell.
Shit , I’d struck another nerve.
“I haven’t been back since I was 10. After my dad died my mother got rid of the house,” Nola shook her head. “Too many bad memories, I guess. My mom is…an interesting woman. She used to be so happy and carefree and crazy, but in a good way. After my dad died, her craziness just got out of hand.” She frowned like she was looking at something bad. “We’ve moved all over the U.S. because my mom was just so
“How about you?” she asked, knocking me back to reality. “What do you do?”
“I’m a tech nerd.” Nola cocked an eyebrow and turned her head to the side like she was sizing me up. “What? I don’t look like a computer geek to you?” I asked, grinning. I know that I didn’t. People who don’t know me are more likely to think I steal cars or deal drugs than sit in front of my computer for hours writing code.
She hunched her shoulders, and took another bite of her sandwich. “Well…no, not really.”
“What does it look like I do?”
“I dunno. Act or model or work on cars,” she said. “Isn’t that what everybody does in L.A.?”
I leaned back and laughed. “You got one out of three.”
“Which one?”
“Cars. I love classic cars,” I said, thinking of my ’66 Mustang, and the Chevy Impala I’d been restoring for the past few months. I took her comments about Angelenos and turned them around. “So, how about you? Since you’re in L.A. are you trying to be an actress or model?”
Nola scrunched up her face. “God, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I may have moved here, but I’m not trying to be famous like everyone else. I just want to finish school and get a good job like normal people.”
I had a million questions for Nola about her goals, her dreams, what she was most afraid of, and what she was like as a kid, but I didn’t want to sound like I was interrogating her. Although I’d slept with a lot of women, I never kept one around long enough to really get to know her. I wanted to find out every single thing about Nola, but I knew I had to take it slow.
I bobbed my head and continued making small talk. “So where are you from?”
“All over,” she said just above a whisper.
“Army brat?”
She shook her head. “No, crazy parents.”
My breath caught in my chest. I hoped Nola’s childhood was nothing like mine; my parents were fucking horrible. A small smile crossed her lips that made me relax a little.
“We moved a lot when I was a kid. My dad was a musician and my mom and I tagged along with him on the road. When he died…” Nola’s voice trailed off and her eyes went wet again. I wanted to pull her into a hug but didn’t want to freak her out. “After my dad died, I thought we’d settle down, but my mom kept moving from place to place like she was on the run from his memory.”
Shit, I’d done it again. I’d fucked up and made her think of something painful. “Nola, I’m—“
“It’s cool, Scout.” She smiled but the feeling never reached her eyes. “This is actually the longest I’ve lived in one city.”
“Really?”
“Yup. I’ve been here for three years.”
“And you’re not sick of it yet?” I joked.
“No, it’s by far the nicest place I’ve lived. Well, except Jamaica.”
“Wow, you lived in Jamaica?” My mind was blown. Nola wasn’t the naive girl I thought she was. Still, despite losing her father and having to move around countless times she wasn’t jaded or bitter either. I’d grown up in Pacoima my whole life, my piece-of-shit parents were alive, and I wasn’t as open or as kind as Nola.
“Yeah, my dad had a place in Saint Ann’s Parish and I’d spend all day running around trying to catch lizards or hanging out with my mom at the beach.”
“That sounds amazing, Nola. Maybe you can show me around one day.”
Her face fell.
Shit , I’d struck another nerve.
“I haven’t been back since I was 10. After my dad died my mother got rid of the house,” Nola shook her head. “Too many bad memories, I guess. My mom is…an interesting woman. She used to be so happy and carefree and crazy, but in a good way. After my dad died, her craziness just got out of hand.” She frowned like she was looking at something bad. “We’ve moved all over the U.S. because my mom was just so
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