Page 19 of All That Glitters
“You know Jeff,” Veronica said. “Always looking for an angle to make a bet.”
Tony frowned. “I’m naming the first character that gets killed after him.”
Veronica laughed. “He also started a new Facebook group called ‘I Bet I Can Find One Million People Who Don’t Think Tony Will Finish His Script.’ I think he’s up to two hundred and forty-three members already. Your mom joined yesterday.”
“My mom?” Tony’s voice cracked.
“She posted a very supportive comment though,” Veronica added helpfully. “Something about loving you no matter what and maybe you should consider accounting like your father suggested.”
“And they wonder why I don’t move back to Phoenix.”
Debbie looked at Tony for a moment before turning back to Veronica. “Tell Jeff to put me down for ten dollars,” she said.
“Ten dollars that Tony doesn’t finish his script?” Veronica said.
Debbie shook her head. “No. Ten dollars that he does finish it. Because I’m going to kick his butt if he doesn’t.”
“Hah!” The word exploded out of Tony’s mouth. “See. Debbie believes in me.”
“Debbie believes in her ability to make your life suck if she catches you slacking,” Debbie said. “Consider me your new drill instructor, Harding.”
“Got it,” he said with a big nod. “Sergeant Debbie.”
“You better believe it.”
He smiled and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Ready to go see the scene of our childhood crimes?”
“This place hasn’t changed since we were seven,” Debbie said, glancing out the window as Tony’s truck chugged and wheezeddown the upscale street. They were in La Jolla Village, a jewel box of a town perched on the cliffs above the Pacific, where the air itself smelled like money. The engine made a sound like a dying whale, followed by a concerning rattle, as he pulled into a parking spot between a sleek German sedan and a Tesla. He turned it off with a final sputtering cough of black exhaust.
“It really hasn’t,” he said, climbing from the truck. “So, what do you think?”
“I think you just killed half the plant life on the street,” Debbie said, climbing from the truck and fanning away the smoke.
“I mean, about the area.”
Debbie looked around at the pristine streets, the lush, perfectly manicured flower beds, and the designer storefronts with names she only recognized from magazines in her dentist’s waiting room. A woman walked by carrying a purse that probably cost more than Debbie’s car. “I think our presence here just lowered the property values by at least ten percent.”
“I was thinking fifteen percent,” Tony said, slamming his squeaky truck door shut. The truck responded with a dark cough of exhaust. Several well-dressed passersby shot them disapproving looks, the kind usually reserved for people who talk during movies.
“But that’s all gonna change,” he said. “Give me six months, and I’ll be buying a place here.”
“From dressing like a cell phone?” she teased, falling into step beside him as they began their walk through paradise.
“With the money from my screenplay,” he corrected. “You know, the one you’re not gonna let me flake out on under threat of an as yet unnamed punishment.”
“I’m impressed,” she said. “It’s been twenty minutes since we left my apartment, and you haven’t flaked yet.”
“See what a good motivator you are?”
“Hey, I’ve got ten bucks riding on this. I’d better not lose it.”
“You won’t. There will be zero flaking this time.” He gestured around. “That’s why I wanted to show you this place — it’s a reminder of what’s at stake. Generational wealth, or a lifetime of selling mobile family plans.”
They strolled down the sidewalk, past art galleries with single, abstract paintings in the window that looked like someone had sneezed colorfully and decided to charge fifty thousand dollars for it. They passed boutique shops where silk scarves were displayed on headless mannequins and jewelry stores where diamonds glittered in display counters. Chic women sat at outdoor cafes, sipping lattes from small shot glasses, while their tiny, well-groomed dogs nestled in designer carriers.
“You see that place,” Tony said, pointing to a restaurant with no visible menu and a line of people waiting outside despite the empty tables. “Le Bernardin. Best seafood in San Diego. I read about it in Food and Wine.”
“You read Food and Wine?” Debbie asked.
