Page 26 of Endeavor

Grady

I get in my car and drive back to my place. It’s not anything massive, just a little Spanish-style villa in Ocean Park, a few blocks from the beach. My mom wanted to buy me a place in Malibu, but I wanted my own house, one that I paid for myself. So, when we had our first platinum album, I used the money to buy this house. It’s small, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and almost no back yard, but it’s mine and I love it. It does have a little driveway with a small garage, which I love because I can secretly tinker with my car. Even my mom doesn’t know I still do that. Everyone thinks that when I left the racing world, I left cars behind forever. But how do you leave part of your soul behind? You can’t.

I pull up to my house, noticing my freshly manicured small yard. Muffin, my neighbors’ dog is barking excitedly and running along the fence to greet me. It’s a love-hate relationship that we have. My neighbors are older and have no kids, except Muffin the mini mutt who can be annoying to no end. Yet, somehow, she ended up loving me and weaseling me into loving her. She’s my pseudo-pet. I occasionally walk her and help her owners, Barb and Wayne Johnson, with cleaning up after her and bathing her. She’s a good dog; she just barks a ton.

“Hey, Muffin,” I call out and poke my hand through the fence to pet her. She whines, so I open the gate between our properties and pick her up. She licks my face and barks excitedly.

“That you, Grady?” Barb’s voice calls out from their veranda.

“Yep, it’s me.” Muffin snuggles up in my arms and I pet her back. “You’re up late, everything alright?”

“Yep. Just couldn’t sleep, so Muffin and I came back here to enjoy the night.”

“It’s a nice one. I think I’ll do the same.”

“You have a good evening, then, my dear,” she says from the shadows where I presume she sits in her oversized porch chair with giant flower-covered cushions.

“You too,” I reply as I set Muffin down. I hear Barb call to her as I close the gate and head inside.

I decide to grab a beer and sit on my front porch. Sometimes, when the wind is just right and it’s a quiet night, I can hear the ocean, but not tonight. I hear occasional cars honking and dogs barking. I have a ton of unread messages on my phone, but I just want a moment to myself.

I lean back and close my eyes. Emma is the first image to pop into my mind. The look on her face tonight when she saw the city, all lit up and sparkling before her. She looked like a child on Christmas Day. I don’t know why I let my guard down with her. I groan. What the fuck am I doing? I can’t have a girlfriend, especially right now, there’s too much shit going on.

My phone buzzes and it’s like the universe is calling my motherfucking bluff.

Emma: Thanks for tonight. I had a really good time.

I stare at her message. I contemplate saying some asshole comment like, I knew you would. But my fingers start tapping, and before my brain can catch up, I hit send.

Me: Me too. Want to explore another cool LA landmark with me?

Emma: LOL. Maybe.

Me: Maybe?

Emma: If you’re lucky.

I laugh at that remark. She’s trying to be a smartass, but she doesn’t know that I’m the king of smartasses.

Me: Oh, I’m lucky all right.

Emma: (eye-rolling emoji)

Me: (sticking-out-tongue emoji)

Emma: I’ll see if my calendar is free later this week. Have your girl call mine.

I laugh again.

Me: Will do. Wait. Does Cinderella have a secretary?

Emma: She’ll just steal her ugly stepsister’s. Oh, wait, is yours available? I should have asked first.

Me: Touché. I’ll be in touch.

Emma: Night.

Me: Study hard.

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