Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“There you are! Fuck, I thought I lost you, man.”
I furrowed my brow and glanced toward the man’s voice—that belonged to someone I definitely didn’t know. But he was coming toward my table, and he was staring right at me.
No, wait. I recognized him. He was in my class, wasn’t he? Out here, I had developed a radar for East Coast people, and he had a New York accent. Otherwise, not much about him stood out. Average height, brown hair like mine, fairly fit, on the lanky side, probably a bit younger than me.
He sat down in front of me, out of breath, and removed his messenger bag. “Look, I’m just gonna come out and say it. I have two hundred bucks, I’m living in my truck, and I have one network connection that I desperately wanna use. He told me to send him my final project—see if he could make some calls—but as has become painfully clear in this class, videography isn’t my thing. I understand fuck-all about goddamn HDV, SxS, and the difference between standard definition and hi-def.” He leaned forward. “Dude, y’all were talking about memory cards, and I thought we were discussing a fucking festival in Austin.”
That…was SXSW. South by Southwest.
“Anyway—in short, I have an idea,” he went on. “It has an artistic approach, but I’ll admit, it’s more of a come-hither for networks, something I think will sell. To get a foot in the door. But I need a partner, and I’ve watched you in class. You know your way around the equipment and the editing software. When the professor asks his dumb, insane questions, you actually know the answers.”
Was this how he talked to people he’d never met before? I didn’t even know his name.
I guessed if you were desperate enough and living out of your car, you cut to the chase faster.
That might very well be me in the near future.
So if he had an idea…
I extended my hand. “I’m Jake.”
He gave me a puzzled look, before he seemed to remember he’d just jumped into the conversation with no preamble. Then he flashed a dimpled grin and shook my hand.
“Roe. It’s Monroe, but everyone calls me Roe.”
Roe, then.
*
That weekend, I got up at the ass-crack of dawn and carried my most valuable possessions down the stairs from Nikki’s apartment to the curb where Roe waited in his beat-up truck.
“Mornin’, Jake.”
“Hey, man.”
The back seat was littered with proof of his actually living in his truck. He smiled apologetically and was quick to push his backpack, some clothes, a pillow, a sleeping bag, and a couple plastic bags to the left side. I felt my forehead crease, but I said nothing and sat my hardcase next to my duffels. Two cameras, grip, tripod, separate audio recorder, mic… I was confident I had everything we needed for our project.
And safe to say, we had a lot riding on this. Roe needed an actual address, and I wouldn’t mind not living off my girlfriend. At this point, I could swing about a third of the rent, most of our food, utilities, and gas.
“Jake!”
I turned my ball cap backward and looked up toward the apartment, only to see Nikki running down the stairs, wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy shorts and one of my tees. Okay, it was fine—I didn’t mind her wearing my clothes, but when she twisted the bottom into a knot, she stretched the fabric.
“Damn,” Roe muttered.
I threw him a smirk. “Eyes to yourself, buddy.”
He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.
I faced Nikki again, and she flashed a cute, sleepy grin and held up a paper bag.
“You forgot your sandwiches, babe.”
Oh, right. Shit.
“Thanks. What would I do without you?” I smiled and shook my head. She just squeezed my hand and eyed Roe, so I figured introductions were in order. “Nikki, the guy who’s gonna make us rich. Roe, my girlfriend—future stylist to the stars.”
“Oh, I hope all that will come true,” Nikki laughed. “Good to meet you, Roe.”
“You too.” Roe smiled and offered a two-finger salute from the other side of the truck. “I’ll have your man back tomorrow at the latest.”
“Sounds good to me.” She beamed and reached up to me, and I gave her a kiss. “Have a fun trip. I’m gonna get ready for work.”
“Text me when you get home,” I requested. We didn’t live in the safest neighborhood, and I didn’t like her being out on her own at night. The walk from the parking lot was enough for me to usually meet up with her.
“I promise.” She gave my hand another squeeze, and then she backed off as I got in the truck.
Seconds later, Roe pulled away from the curb, and we started our journey toward Big Sur.
If we ever got there. Roe might kill us. He drove…recklessly. Thank fuck the streets weren’t too crowded at this hour on a Saturday.