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September 15, 1988
Los Angeles, California
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I often think about what kind of life I'd be living if I didn't live in the Beverly Glen pass. My family home was tucked away on a secluded, one way street. For so long, I felt that the discreet location gave my family a sense of notoriety; now as a grown man, however, I think I'm starting to see it differently.
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There's a lot about my life that I'm starting to see differently if I'm being quite honest. The elusive mansion in the Hollywood Hills used to feel like a silent indicator of my social status in this town. Now, it feels like a conscious decision to live in isolation.
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And for what? So my parents egos could be stroked by the mere fact that they had chosen to be "off the grid"? HOW off the grid can you be when you're only up the street from Beverly Hills, anyways.
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Yet, here I am. I wake up every morning at 7 and draw the curtains to stare at the adjacent mountains. I sometimes imagine I'm living inside one of my Mom's collectible snow globes. The decor changes seasonally and everything is always pretty. We would always be known as the house with the best parties and the worst parking. So idyllic; so out of touch. It must be nice to be so simple minded that living a life of completely monotony and predictability sounds ideal.
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I continue with my morning - I find that the longer I give in to such existential thinking, the harder it is to remain cordial with my family members. I guess a piece of my heart has grown stale towards them. I think I also am beginning to resent my parents, too. I wish they had given me a sibling, someone to lean on through all the superficiality.
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Instead, they brought me into the world alone. Gave me anything. Yet deprived me of everything.
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"Cam, I'll be home later this afternoon!" My mother's voice chirped. I poked my head out my bedroom and caught a glimpse of her standing at the bottom of the stairs. She had on a deep red dress suit that lifted at the shoulders and pearls adorned her neckline.
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"You look nice." I offered her a soft smile. Her tense posture softened briefly as she offered me her first smirk of the morning, "Finish getting ready, will you?" With that, she turned quickly for the front door. I listened as her small heels clicked against the marble. Finally, the heavy door heaved open and shut followed by a swift lock.
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I quickly threw on my school uniform - navy blazer, dress shirt, tie, and tan slacks. I laced up my sneakers lazily before fishing through a sock drawer for my small box of joints. I stuck one behind my ear with ease before brushing my teeth and heading for the front door.
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I stopped myself for a moment to analyze the sandy brown mop of hair that sat on my head. I thought about my mother's hair and how mine was the same color and texture as hers; curled slightly at the ends like a pigs tail.
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I didn't lie to her when I said she looked nice today. I genuinely meant it. When I look at my reflection and see my mother, I want to be kinder to myself. I see so much of her when in me, how could I not?
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Fuck, I need to get stoned.
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—————-
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"Dude get over here!" I could hear my friend Skip call to me as I pulled into the student parking lot that morning. St. Anthony's High School was located at the other side of the hill in the San Fernando Valley. Tucked between cozy suburban neighborhoods and a mini mall, it felt like a perfect haven for the children of the rich and boring. Everyone belonged to a country club. Everyone drove a BMW. Everyone did coke.
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But, I belonged to this community. And these were my friends - so what was a guy to do?
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"Skip, did you do the homework?" I shut my ignition off and tossed my backpack over my shoulder before stepping out of my family car. He was sitting on the edge of his trunk, idly letting his long legs dangle. His girlfriend, Ashlee, stood next to him. She wore the woman's uniform - navy sweater vest, tan skirt, white dress shirt, tie - and shot me a dirty look.
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"What?" I asked her, shooting back a similar glare.
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"Nothing." She raised a perfectly tweezed eyebrow at me, her blue eyes ablaze.
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"What?" I turned back to Skip curiously.
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"Ignore her," he hopped off the trunk and threw an arm around my shoulder. She followed closely behind us as we walked towards the main building.
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"Ashlee just thinks I shouldn't let you or Rod copy my homework anymore," Skip stated teasingly. Ashlee folded her thin, tennis toned arms. "I didn't say it like that."
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"Well there's no other subliminal message I could detect from the discussion we had so," he continued.
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She struggled to contain the volume of her voice as she attempted to salvage her aloof demeanor.
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"Look, I just think since we're all graduating this year we should start developing more independent study skills," she seemed to huff as she quickly took hold of Skip's right hand, pulling him back from continuing.
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"So Cam, we'll see you at nutrition - why don't you spend the morning finishing that homework you needed?" Ashlee smirked as she slowly began pulling at his hand in the opposite direction.
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"Babe, cmon -," Skip gestured to the joint in my hand but Ashlee's cold grimace remained. She ignored his pleas and called out to me once more as they moved further away, "June is in the library! She's waiting for you!"
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"I'll catch you later!" Skip's voice was soon drowned out by the bustling of other students and I found myself alone again.
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I checked the time - 7:50 - school began in 10 minutes and I wasn't in the business of being on time for home room. I couldn't start my day without getting stoned either , if we're being honest. So I set off the meet Rod behind the science building where he frequently spent his mornings.
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As soon as I turned the corner from the football field to the furthest building on campus, I caught site of the overturned paint cans that circled around a lone crate. Playing cards were sprawled out between 5 people and Rod sat the center of it. He wore his varsity jacket loosely as he and other guys from the football team stood animated; shouting and throwing dollars bills into the dirt.
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"Hey man," I came up and greeted Rod with a pat on the back.
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"What's up." Voice flat, eyes focused on the cards. It was always difficult speaking to him when money was involved.
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"Nothing, just wanted to come out and smoke before class."
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"Light it." He demanded and I did as I was told. The other men stood idly as they watched me light the small joint and pass it off to Rod.
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"Let me get a hit," Troy, a bigger guy who wore size 14 shoes grunted as her threw another $10 into the pile. The men all stood in silence as they continued to play and smoke.
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I hated these weird, masculine card games that Rod hosted. But I didn't have enough friends or a desire to fuck June in the printer room before class to do anything different. So I remained complacent and became another face in the crowd.
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As depressing as it sounds, however, I found a sense of peace knowing I was just another guy at this school. I worry about my future a lot, especially when it comes to making new friends in college. I worry I don't know enough to carry on conversations. Or that I lack social skills in general. So I hang out and leech off of the company of my two best friends, Rod and Skip to make up for my inconveniences.
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Skip, sensible and polite, makes me feel like the son my Mother always wanted. When I'm with him I feel a sense of superiority I do not have alone. I think my girlfriend June likes that side of me too since she only ever wants to double date.
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I used to think it was because she was shy and didn't want to spend time alone - last spring formal changed that, however. We got drunk off Schnapps and fucked for hours at the Mulholland overlook by her house. We then spent the entire summer before senior year fucking in her pool house. I enjoyed it because I liked the idea that she was only shy on the surface; in the bedroom, she preferred when we fucked rough. She'd gently place my hands around her throat and ask me to drive myself deeper and deeper into her pussy. Gentle pleading would turn into aggressive begging and it made me feel like a man.
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Other than the occasional fuck, she doesn't care to listen to me. Not really- not in the way it matters. She likes to dress up in short dresses and curl her brown hair so it's voluminous and sexy. Not for me, however, but probably for the eyes of everyone else.
So lately, fucking has been feeling like a chore. I find myself being drawn to spending my time being useless with Rod instead.
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Rod makes me feel like I'm using my wealth and access to the best of my ability. With Rod, it was always the best of the best. The best girls, the best cars, the best bars- he always had to have the best. I can't say I didn't enjoy it, no matter how privileged and spoiled it makes me seem. But I have always felt such a stagnancy within my social status. Enough accessibility to the good life to have fun; enough exposure could ruin it all. I preferred to stay in the gray zone to remain neutral, so hiding behind Rod and letting him be the face of chaos allotted me the freedom to stretch my rebellion as far as I could.
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As soon as the game ended, the warning bell for first period also began to chime. We all parted ways and headed to our first class, which Rod and I shared. He lit a cigarette as we walked through the dirt and dry grass on our way to the main building.
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"I have a proposition for you Cam." His voice was sly and he gave me a look that said "say yes".
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"Okay, what's up?"
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"Remember my house keeper, Ana? She had a few cousins and their kids move to LA from El Salvador because of some civil war business over there. Anyways, this kid nephew came to pick her up. Drove a sick Acura Integra. All white, brand new. Had to be worth 13k easily..."
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Rod's voice drifted off as a few underclassman girls walk by us. Their eyes twinkled as Rod surveyed their small hips swaying as they passed. A brunette waved in his direction and he blew a cloud of smoke in response.
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"Anyways, I'm thinking to myself, 'no shit, this kid boosted this car from my neighbor down the street. He had to'. So I get to talking with him and I try to fish out all the details."
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"And?" I dryly egg him on in order to get to the point faster.
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"He said he sells coke. Like a shit ton of coke. He and his brothers brought it with them when they got over here. So I start thinking, man I need to buy some in bulk."
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"So you need me to drive you?" I roll my eyes as we push through the heavy doors to get inside the main building. His voice got low as he pulled back my left arm, his grip tight, "No dip shit. I was thinking more along the lines of purchasing...with the intent to sell."
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I stop in my tracks. He looks so serious. His tone is deep and stern, just as it always is when it comes to money. I wonder now if that's how his Dad talks too, especially since he works in finance. He's so intense it almost scares me.
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"Why would you need to sell coke, Rod? Your parents are loaded. You live in Beverly Hills."
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It's now his turn to roll his eyes at me. "Cam, seriously man. Don't you ever think about your future? We've spent so long just coasting by because we're trust fund kids. But imagine what we could do with the disposable income." I watch as Rod visibly gets turned on by the thought of making more money illegally.
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"But why drugs Rod? You and I could easily get jobs working with our Dad's and make the same amount as a college grad." I try again, but he seems set on the decision. He doesn't even bother debating with me; my concerns are almost as invisible as a fruit fly buzzing around aimlessly.
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"Drugs because they're hot, Cam. Drugs because who doesn't need drugs these days? Drugs because WE can be the supplier for our friends. No middle man, no sketchy houses in North Hollywood. No bullshit. Drugs because we CAN!"
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He seems elated at the thought of being involved in this ludicrous business venture. Like we're 10 again embarking on a great adventure.
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"Be my best friend, will you? Just do this with me and I promise you won't regret it." His blue eyes pleaded with me as we neared the classroom. Before I could make another comment, Rod slipped through the heavy door and disappeared into the crowd of students. I was left upfront alone, in shock, and disruptive.
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"Mr. Larsen, please have a seat!"
ns 15.158.61.8da2
