We hugged. She has just returned from Italy, she was back living in our hometown with her mother, but was hoping to move out soon, either to Hollywood or to “an artist’s loft downtown.” She was working in an art/toy/comic store near my house. I said we should get together.
“I’ll definitely get your number before you leave.” She assured me.
She made an allusion to going to state college, she made another allusion about missing out on high school. I didn’t press for details. She had come to the backyard of the party to do a keg stand. She had recently found out about them and was hooked. I laughed.
As it turns out, the guy who spins records at the shop where she works, the resident of the house, happens to be my roommate’s co-worker’s boyfriend. That’s why she was at the party. Small world.
All of a sudden, I found myself in the backseat of the car, my boyfriend driving and my roommate sitting shotgun, hugging the edges of Laurel Canyon as we ambled back over the hill and toward home. The trees our guardians overhead, and the bass thumping our heartbeats.
“So, who was that girl?”
Just an old friend.
