Chapter Four: West Hollywood

 

I wake up around nine in Caroline’s bed, and I’m instantly filled with regret. She’s awake already, scrolling through Instagram.

 

“Morning, handsome,” she says unsmilingly followed quickly by a question. “Do you think Sabrina’s hotter than me?”

 

“Umm, I don’t know,” I mutter, looking for my pants. I can’t tell if I’m still drunk or hungover.

 

My phone starts buzzing and I see Chris’ name and picture pop up. I ignore the call and pull my jeans on.

 

“When do you leave for Michigan?” she asks.

 

“I don’t know. A week or so.”

 

“That’s short.”

 

“Yeah, we have a short break. It sucks.” For some reason I can’t look at her. She starts rolling a joint. My phone buzzes again and again it’s Chris.

 

“Fuck. Dude what’s up?” I answer, frustrated.

 

“Dude where are you?”

 

“Caroline’s.”

 

“Oh. Nice. Zach, you have to get to Luke’s house now.”

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“Luke was in a car accident last night.”

 

“What?”

 

“Dude he ended up on the wrong side of the street on Sepulveda. They don't know if he was drunk or driving into oncoming or what, but he got fucking crushed.”

 

I feel a pit form in my stomach.

 

“He drove into oncoming?”

 

“Yeah we don't know for sure. I have no idea what happened. Nobody saw him leave.”

 

“Is he ok?”

 

“Dude you should just come over here.”

 

“Is he ok?”

 

“You should just come over here.”

 

“He drove into oncoming traffic?” I try to fight back crying.

 

“I don't know, man. Just please come over here.”

 

“Ok.”

 

I hang up the phone and look at Caroline. She’s finished rolling her joint and is trying to light it.

 

“What happened?” she asks between sparks of the lighter.

 

“Luke got crushed on Sepulveda on the way back from Tim's. I think he's dead.”

 

“Oh,” she says finally lighting the joint. She takes a drag. “That’s very sad,” she sighs. “He’s

such a beautiful boy.”

 

I have never hated someone as much as I hate Caroline at this exact moment. I want to scream. I want to shake her, hit her, yell at her, do something to her. But I don’t. I call an Uber, button my shirt, wonder if one day she'll think that Luke's a beautiful corpse, and leave her with her joint.

 

My car arrives. The driver’s name is Michael, and he just moved to Los Angeles from Suffolk, Virginia. He says the traffic’s bad so far, but the weather’s so nice and he saw Owen Wilson at the In-N-Out Burger in Sherman Oaks and that was cool. He says the people aren’t as bad as he thought they were going to be. He says everybody’s been very nice to him so far. He says he wants to settle down here, get married, have kids. He says he wants his kids to grow up where the weather's perfect.

 

I start to break down in the backseat. I think of the girl with the green eyes and how close Caroline and I are and Luke’s grandfather and the image of Luke driving into oncoming traffic on Sepulveda and how his last thought was probably that money was an asset. I think of Caroline and Tim on the bed in their underwear doing coke and how the parking in Malibu is terrible. I wonder if Luke is a beautiful corpse.

 

My whole body starts to shake with sobs and Michael asks me what’s wrong and I tell him nothing I’ve just had a long day and he says it’s only 9:15 and I say he’s right.

 

He turns onto the 10 freeway and I start crying again.

 

And the traffic is terrible.