Simon hadn't noticed the girl in the crowd silently watching him. Hearing Janet's words, he just smiled and said, "What, planning to check in for a while yourself?"
Janet nodded quite earnestly. "Yeah, if it turns me into someone like you, I'd stay a few years no problem."
Kathryn snapped back to reality then, shocked, her curiosity about Simon's past flaring up intensely once more. But hearing Janet, she shot her friend a warning glare. "Jenny, no more joking about that."
Sensing the rare seriousness in Kathryn's tone, Janet shrank back a bit, grabbing her arm appeasingly and shaking it—indeed shutting up.
Simon steadied his racing heart from the intense focus of playing, noticed Janet's little move, and smiled. He handed the guitar to Kathryn in front of him. "Mind holding this for me?"
Kathryn reached out to take it, a bit puzzled, as Simon crouched down and started sorting the coins in the case before him.
She wanted to help, but feeling the guitar in her hands, Kathryn just stood there, carefully cradling it.
Janet eyed the guitar, reached over—only to have Kathryn swat her hand away. She pouted discontentedly, then simply crouched down to help Simon sort the coins, picking up a 5-cent piece to critique some cheapskate and so on.
Soon, they'd organized all the coins in the case. Even without Janet's hundred-dollar bill, it totaled over $260—far exceeding Simon's expectations.
Letting Janet hold a small pile of coins, Simon stuffed the bills into his jeans pocket, took the guitar from Kathryn, carefully packed it in the case, slung it over his shoulder, and looked at the woman. "So, dinner then?"
"Sure," Kathryn didn't hesitate this time, smiling and nodding. She even suggested proactively, "There's a nice Mexican restaurant nearby."
"Walking okay?"
"Of course—it's just north of here."
"Oh, how are you two getting back?"
"My car's in the lot over there."
"What a coincidence—mine too, though it's borrowed from the motel owner. Nice guy."
"The guitar too?"
"Yeah."
Janet stood there, blankly watching the man and woman about to walk off side by side. She looked down at the coins still in her hands—what was going on?
Had she just been... forgotten?
The thought ignited her fury. She yelled out on the street in a hoarse, quacking voice: "Simon Westeros, one more step and I'll toss this stuff!"
Heads turned on the boardwalk again.
Simon and Kathryn turned back too, looking at the fuming Janet. Simon hurried over. "Sorry, Jenny—here, I'll take it."
Janet dumped the coins into his hands with a clatter, shooting Kathryn a aggrieved glare.
Both felt a bit awkward; Kathryn stepped forward to link arms with Janet. Simon pocketed the coins, and the three headed north again.
Noting how Janet deliberately wedged between them, Simon made small talk. "So, Kathryn, you mentioned Jenny's studio is here—what kind?"
"Art studio," Kathryn replied. "Jenny's a painter. When you have money someday, you can buy her work."
"Oh, definitely."
"I wouldn't sell to a little punk like you."
"I'll pay top dollar."
"No sale!"
"Double."
"Pfft!"
"Hehe," Kathryn chuckled softly. Seeing her friend glare at her, she quickly told Simon, "Jenny's really talented too. She graduated from Columbia Business School—Buffett went there too. Simon, you know Buffett, right?"
Simon nodded. "Of course."
Kathryn continued, "That year, Buffett came back to Columbia to speak. Jenny debated him in the auditorium—if the dean hadn't smoothed things over, she might've left him speechless."
"Impressive indeed," Simon said with a smile, pressing on. "So why switch to painting?"
Kathryn just glanced at her best friend this time, smiling without explaining.
Janet, seeing Simon look curiously at her too, simply rolled her eyes at him.
Chatting casually, they reached a nearby Mexican restaurant. Though Simon had a few hundred in his pocket, the two women each just ordered a $25 set meal. Still, he indulged Janet's "wish," using her $100 to get a decent bottle of red.
After dinner, Simon left Kathryn the motel's contact info before parting with the two women.
Paying the bill, he still had over a hundred left—enough till next week's supermarket pay—so he dropped the idea of wasting time on more side gigs.
With his minor financial snag sorted, Simon was truly settled in L.A.
Once days fell into routine, time flew.
In a blink, it was Simon's third week in L.A., July rolling in.
Outside work, he kept up twice-weekly calls with Jonathan Friedman. The agent hadn't hidden his plan to package Butterfly Effect.
Last Wednesday, at Jonathan Friedman's invite, Simon headed to WMA HQ to chat half an hour with the director the agent had in mind: Brian De Palma.
Brian De Palma broke out in the seventies with Carrie; Simon knew him as the director of Tom Cruise's first Mission: Impossible a decade later—one of Hollywood's most enduring evergreens.
So while Brian De Palma directing might somewhat overshadow the script, considering how the famed director's involvement boosted the project, Simon was all for it.
Things had seemed smooth sailing.
But two days ago, on the phone with his agent, he'd learned of a hitch.
Friedman's initial plan was all his own clients, but once the script circulated internally at WMA, other execs got ideas about the project.
The agent hadn't elaborated much; Simon couldn't sort the intricacies but knew he'd have to wait patiently longer. As a newbie, he had zero sway in WMA's internal games—right now, just a pawn.
On another front, past the first week's tight budget hurdle, Simon kept only the Griffin Supermarket job and started other plans.
Another ordinary Thursday afternoon, but tomorrow was July 4th, Independence Day, followed by the weekend. So many were already in holiday mode; the store bustled more than usual.
"So, how'd it go today?"
At the register, Simon saw Courteney Cox approach with a pile of snacks. As he rang her up, he greeted casually.
Working at Griffin less than a week, Simon discovered Courteney Cox lived nearby and shopped here often. She found it amusing too, always chatting him up when buying— they'd gotten friendly without realizing.
But Courteney was clearly in a foul mood today.
Hearing Simon, her already glum expression turned snippy. "Just got a failed audition notice—what do you think?"
Simon smiled. "No need to get so down—you've got great potential; more chances will come. Speaking of, I'm prepping an experimental film—want to be the lead?"
"Experimental film?" Courteney eyed his supermarket uniform, teasing, "Forget if you can even direct—first, got money?"
"Once Joe sells my script, probably," Simon said, bagging her snacks. "That's $19.75."
Courteney handed over two tens, still snarky. "You've been here weeks with no movement. By the time Joe sells it, I might be a big star like Michelle Pfeiffer. Your script money couldn't cover a fraction of my fee."
Simon gave her change. "Pfeiffer's probably not that expensive, right? But yeah, she's got real appeal—maybe date her someday if the chance comes."
Courteney jingled her coins, rolling her eyes. "Rare—you daydream without shortchanging me."
After mercilessly ribbing him, Courteney's mood visibly lifted. She even said goodbye graciously before grabbing her bag and leaving.
Simon tossed her forgotten receipt in the trash. No customers behind, he was about to sit and rest when the supermarket owner Roger Griffin—fond of wandering to assert his presence—waddled over, leaning on the counter. "Hey, kid—using 'making a movie' as a pickup line is lame. I'd have just asked her out—watching you drag it out weeks, it's killing me."
Simon ignored the middle-aged fatty's all-talk-no-action vibe, instead saying, "No line—speaking of, Roger, mind if I shoot some scenes in your store later?"
"Sure," Roger Griffin said readily—and bluntly. "Long as you pay."
"I wouldn't use it for free," Simon laughed. "But heads up—it's a robbery scene."
Roger eyed Simon, seeing no joke, squinted appraisingly, then said, "Fine, but during shooting, swap the sign temporarily—no specific address in shots."
In memory, that film took weeks convincing a supermarket for the robbery scene.
Simon hadn't expected smooth sailing but nodded right away, extending his hand to Roger. "Deal then."
Though skeptical like Courteney about Simon directing, the fatty shook on it. "Kid, if you really shoot someday, save me a role."
Simon didn't hesitate. "No problem."
After chatting a bit, Roger sauntered off leisurely.
Simon worked another half hour till shift change, handed off to the next, grabbed his light gray canvas backpack, and clocked out.