Page 1 of Howl for Me
Chapter One
Thebushitsapothole big enough to shake my soul loose, and my head smacks against the window.
“Ow, damn,” I mumble, rubbing my forehead. My cheek had been stuck to the glass, warm from hours of sleeping, and now there’s probably a red mark. Cute. Real cute. I blink hard, trying to clear the fog from my brain. The view outside isn’t the same sleepy nothingness I left behind. Now it’s palm trees, neon signs, and buildings that stretch higher than anything back home. Everything is different. Bigger and louder.
I made it.
My stomach twists, but I sit up straighter, gripping my bag. Seven hundred miles. That’s how much space I’ve put between me and “home.” Not that home ever felt like a place I belonged. Too many people telling me what I should do, who I should be,like I was born to fit into some tiny little box. Well, I popped the lid off that thing and ran. Now, I’m here. In L.A.
This is my fresh start.
I inhale deep, but my nerves won’t settle. It doesn’t matter, I can’t go back. I won’t, not after everything I’ve put into this. I’ve got a place to stay waiting for me, a plan. It’s not perfect, but it’s mine. And that’s more than I ever had before. I’ll settle into my new place and then find a job. I’ll take whatever I can get.
The bus wheezes to a stop, and the doors creak open. Heat slaps me in the face the second I step out; thick and heavy, carrying the smells of pavement, exhaust, and something greasy frying somewhere. L.A. air. Smells like opportunity… and maybe a little like hot garbage, but I’ll take it.
I hitch my bag higher on my shoulder, grab my little suitcase, and start walking. The city moves fast, but I don’t yet. Gotta take it all in first.
A couple of guys in tight jeans and unbuttoned shirts strut past, hair feathered like they stepped off of a Bee Gees album cover. A Cadillac rumbles at the curb, its driver leaning against the door, gold chains catching the sun. Someone’s blasting Marvin Gaye from a storefront, the music humming in my chest. Already, everything seems so different from back home.
I keep moving, my arms already aching from my bags. After a few blocks, sweat trickles down my back, and my suitcase wheel starts acting up. I huff out a breath, stopping near a street corner where a woman is lighting a cigarette. She looks so different from the women back at home in her crochet halter top and platform sandals.
“Hey, you know where Sunnyside Plaza is?” I ask, adjusting my grip on the suitcase handle.
She takes a slow drag, eyes me up and down, then jerks her chin down the street.
“Couple more blocks, sweetheart. Keep going until you reach the sign with the missing E.”
I nod my thanks and push forward, ignoring the way my feet already ache. This is it, my new life. My big shot. The city doesn’t know it yet, but I’m here to make something of myself. I’ve always wanted to be the one calling the shots. Not just another pretty girl in front of the camera. Nah, I wanna be the one behind it, making the magic happen. A director. A woman running the show in a man’s world. That’s something real. Something worth busting my ass for. Something I could be proud of and I could call home about. Not that they’d care; my parents.
Even if I made it big, even if my name lit up in credits, they’d still hate me for leaving. For walking away from the neat little life they planned out for me, find a nice man, settle down, buy a house a few doors down so I could pop out grandbabies and bring potato salad to Sunday dinner. That’s all they ever wanted. That’s all I was supposed to want. But I didn’t want that. I can’t see a life where I could ever want that. I want more.
When I left, I ripped the control right out of their hands. I broke the chains and walked away. And to them, that was betrayal. But to me, it was survival. There’s nothing back there for me; there never was. That town felt like a cage, and I’ve spent my whole life pressing against the bars, waiting for my chance to run. Now I’m here, and for the first time, I get to see who I really am, who I can be, when I’m the one holding the reins.
I squint my eyes and see I’ve arrived. The building is not much, but then again, neither am I right now. A sun-faded stucco complex, the kind that probably looked decent in the ‘50s but has been left to bake in the L.A. heat ever since stands in front of me. The sign out front reads “Sun_ysid_,” half the letters missing, the other half clinging to the frame like they’re scared tolet go. I check the address again, even though I already know this is it. I take a breath and start up the stairs.
“Well, well, well. Ain’t you just a sight.”
Looking up, a woman leans out of a second-floor window, one arm propped against the sill like she’s making an entrance. She’s got curlers in her hair, a cigarette dangling from two long fingers, and a silk robe that might’ve been expensive once but now is faded and just kinda slouches off her shoulders.
“You movin’ in, sweetheart?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, honey, ain’t no need for all that ‘ma’am’ business. You can call me Miss Audrey.” She takes another drag, then points her cigarette at me. “Now, don’t tell me, you’re an actress.”
“Uh, well.”
“No, wait. Lemme guess.” She squints at me like she’s reading me. “You got that wide-eyed look. The kind that says you’re fresh off the bus.” She sighs dramatically.
“Am I that obvious?” I squint. “Yeah, fresh off the bus, and looking for work, actually.” I try to sound confident, even though my throat’s dry as hell.
Miss Audrey raises a thin, penciled-in brow. “That right? Well, if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
She studies me for a second, then smirks. “You seem like a nice girl, and nice girls don’t last long in this city without a little help. You ever need anything, sugar, coffee, a stiff drink, or even a good cry, you come see Miss Audrey. I’m in 2B. You can’t miss it. I’ve got the pink flamingo wreath on the door.”
I smile despite the nerves still crawling up my spine. “Thanks, Miss Audrey. My name’s Cassidy.”
She waves me off, already pulling another cigarette from the pack tucked into her robe pocket.
