Chad tried everything to get me to stay in Colorado, including buying me an adorable beagle puppy. But my mind was made up. I appreciated what Chad had given me—which were the tools to create a new life—but I didn’t love him.
He let me keep the dog. I named her Lucy. She was so badly behaved that she got kicked out of every puppy day care and obedience class I took her to. But she was sweet and smart and she loved and needed me. It was nice to be needed.
No matter how much I tried to explain my decision, my parents refused to fund my undefined California hiatus. I had saved about $2,000 from a babysitting job I had taken over the summer. I had one friend in L.A. named Steve, who had been on the ski team with me. He had reluctantly agreed to a limited stay on his couch.
“You need to have a plan,” he lectured me over the phone one day while I was driving on the highway to Los Angeles. “L.A. isn’t like Colorado, nobody will notice you here,” he said, trying to prepare me for the harsh reality of this place. But when I put my mind to something, nothing and nobody can dissuade me; it’s been a strength and, at times, a huge detriment.
“Mmm-hmm,” I said, staring at the desert horizon, halfway to my next adventure.
Lucy sat copilot, sleeping.
“What is your plan? Do you even have one?” Steve asked.
“Of course, I’ll get a job and get off your couch, and then I’ll take over the world,” I joked.
He sighed. “Drive safely,” he said. Steve always had been risk-averse.
I hung up the phone and fixed my eyes on the road ahead.
IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT when the 405 started descending into Los Angeles. There were so many lights, and each light had a story. It was so unlike the stretches of darkness in Colorado. In L.A., the light far outweighed the dark—the lights represented a whole world waiting to be discovered. Steve had made up the couch for Lucy and me and we crashed hard after our seventeen-hour drive. I woke up early, and the sun was streaming through the windows. I took Lucy outside for a walk. L.A. smelled heavenly, like sunshine and flowers. But if I wanted to stay, I needed to get a job STAT. I had a little waitressing experience and I felt like that was my best bet since you could make tips right away as opposed to waiting for a weekly paycheck. Steve was up when I returned.
“Welcome to L.A.,” he said.
“Thanks, Steve. Where do you think is the best place for me to get a waitressing job?”
“Beverly Hills would be the best, but it’s really hard. Every pretty girl is an out-of-work actress or model and they are all waitresses, it’s not like—”
“I know, Steve, I know it’s not Colorado.” I smiled. “How do I get to Beverly Hills?”
He gave me directions and wished me luck with doubtful eyes.
He was right, most places I tried were not hiring. I was greeted icily by one pretty hostess after another who gave me a disdainful once-over and explained haughtily that they were fully staffed and I could fill out an application but it would be a waste of time because there were so many other applicants.
I was starting to lose hope as I walked into a last restaurant on the street.
“Hi! Are you hiring?” I asked with my biggest, brightest, most hopeful smile.
Instead of being a slender, perfectly put-together mean girl, the person in front of me was a man in his ’forties. “Are you an actress?” he asked suspiciously.
“No.”
“Model?”
“No.” I laughed. I was five four on my tallest day.
“Is there any reason you would ever have to go to a casting?”
“Sir, I don’t even know what that means.”
His face relaxed.
“I have a breakfast shift. You need to be here at five A.M., and when I say five A.M., I mean four forty-five A.M.”
I smiled bigger to conceal my horror at this ungodly hour.
“No problem,” I said firmly.
“You’re hired,” he said, then explained to me about the uniform, which was a pressed, heavily starched, white dress shirt, a tie, and black pants. “Don’t be late, I don’t tolerate tardiness.” he said, and walked away quickly to berate some poor employee.
IT WAS STILL DARK when I drove to the restaurant. I had borrowed an oversized shirt and tie from Steve. I looked like a puffy penguin.
My new boss, Ed, was already inside, along with another waitress. There was only one customer. He led me through the restaurant explaining my duties and informing me proudly that he had worked there for fifteen years, and he basically, as far as I was concerned, owned the place. He was the only one who had the ear of the owner, who was very rich and very important, and if I saw him I was never to address him unless Ed had instructed me to do so. The owner had many rich, important friends, known as VIP’s, and we were to treat them all like God.
After my training session, Ed dispatched me to serve.
“VIP,” Ed mouthed dramatically.
I gave him a thumbs-up, trying to hide my contempt.
The customer was a cute little old man.
I walked up with a megawatt smile. “Hi there! How is your morning so far?”
He looked up, his pale watery eyes squinting at me. “Aren’t you something. Are you new?”
I smiled. “I am. It’s my first day.”
He nodded. “Thought so, turn around,” he demanded, tracing a circle in the air with bony fingers.
I turned around, and looked at the front of the restaurant, trying to see what he wanted me to see. There was nothing of note.
I looked back at him, confused.
He was nodding in approval.
“I’d like you to be my special friend,” he said. “I’ll pay your bills and you can help me out.” He winked.
Now I was utterly confused, and my face must have shown it.
“I’m a diabetic,” he began. “So I can’t even get it up,” he continued, reassuring me. “I just want affection and attention.”
My expression went from confused to aghast. Oh my God, this old man who could’ve have been my grandfather was propositioning me. I was mortified. I felt the blood rush to my face. I wanted to tell him off, but I had been taught to always respect my elders. I wasn’t sure how to handle this. I had to find Ed.
I mumbled something and rushed off.
I approached Ed, my face burning.
“Ed, I know he’s a VIP but he …” and I whispered the proposal into Ed’s ear.
Ed looked at me blankly
“So what’s the problem? I thought I discussed the policy on VIP’s.”
I looked at him incredulously. “Are you serious? I’m definitely NOT going back over there. Can someone else take the table?” I asked.
“Molly, it’s not even two hours into your shift and you’re already causing problems. You should count yourself lucky that one of the VIP’s has taken a liking to you.”
I felt my chest fill with hot anger.
Ed looked at me with a sneer. “That offer might be the best you will ever have in this town.”
I rushed out of that restaurant as fast as I could, but