Hunting in Hollywood

When moving in, the kind Spanish elder had already made things much easier for Simon, and leaving the motel meant it would be hard to find a second place to stay on short notice.

After some thought, Simon approached Roger Griffin, the supermarket owner, after his shift to discuss the possibility of getting paid for a week in advance.

The supermarket owner, who had the potential to be quite stingy, didn't outright refuse but stated that everyone's salary was settled weekly. Since Simon had only worked three days that week, if he wanted to settle early, he would only get paid for those three days.

Simon didn't intend to quibble over a few dollars with Roger Griffin and readily agreed. The three days' salary, combined with what he had left, was sufficient. He planned to find another part-time job with more flexible payment terms to address the gap next week.

Then, Simon's straightforwardness made the middle-aged man, who wasn't all that bad, feel somewhat embarrassed and, acting on a rare impulse of generosity, rounded up Simon's pay to $100.

Leaving Griffin's Supermarket, Simon walked back to his motel, which took about twenty minutes.

The motel was a typical "U" shaped setup, a two-story wooden building with over a dozen rooms and several cars parked in the yard.

The afternoon sunlight in Los Angeles was just perfect.

Entering the yard, Simon saw the motel owner, Diago Sarcado, leisurely sitting under the porch with a guitar, enjoying his music.

Simon had always associated guitars with young people, having played a bit in college before never touching it again. But for Westerners, for whom music is a part of life, there are no such constraints.

Finding a chair next to the Spanish elder, Simon sat down quietly and listened.

The old man was playing Elvis Presley's "Blue-Suede-Shoes".

Ignoring the heavy Spanish accent during the singing, the man's guitar skills were passable.

This evaluation surprised Simon.

His own guitar skills had been limited to simple tunes and certainly weren't as good as the Spanish elder's. "Blue-Suede-Shoes" was an old tune that wasn't to Simon's taste, but its complexity couldn't be denied.

However, Simon soon realized why.

Among his twelve other memories was a top Hollywood composer; an entry-level instrument like the guitar was easy for him. And, among the many talents in Hollywood, there were plenty of guitar enthusiasts.

After finishing his song, the elder turned to Simon, asking in Spanish, "Why are you back so early today?"

Simon didn't answer directly but smiled, taking out his wallet to hand the $100 bill to the elder, also replying in Spanish, "Diago, this is for last week's rent, and thanks for everything these days."

The old man nodded, accepting the money, then glanced at Simon's wallet with a tease and concern, "Without this $100, you'll soon be starving, won't you?"

"That won't happen," Simon shook his head, smiling, "I found a church nearby that might give out food vouchers."

Hearing this, the old man laughed heartily, "I like your easy-going nature, young man. But that's not very pious of you. Do you play the guitar?"

When the old man handed over his guitar, Simon, a bit puzzled, still took it, instinctively tuned the strings, then began to play "Blue-Suede-Shoes" again.

Just as the tune started, the old man couldn't help but think to shake his head. The boy clearly knew some guitar, but it was very rough.

However, as Simon focused on playing, the old man didn't interrupt.

Then, the Spanish elder witnessed a small miracle. In just ten minutes, Simon's playing went from clumsy to skilled at a jaw-dropping pace. The old man couldn't precisely describe Simon's guitar level as he was also an amateur, but he felt that if Simon was a street behind him ten minutes ago, he had now surpassed him by miles, even achieving a level of mastery.

When Simon stopped playing, the old man immediately asked, "Kid, did you learn guitar before?"

Simon nodded, as surprised by his performance as the elder was, and vaguely explained, "Haven't touched it in years."

The Spanish elder couldn't comprehend what Simon meant by "years," but it provided a reasonable explanation for his shock.

"Since that's the case," the elder took his guitar back, put it in its case, and then handed it to Simon again, "Give me your backpack and take this to the beach. It's the peak tourist season, and with your skill, playing for a few hours should earn you enough for the next few days' meals."

Simon, momentarily stunned, readily handed over his constant companion, his backpack, took the guitar case, and cheekily asked for more, "Diago, since you've lent me the Gibson, how about lending me your car too?

 It'll be dark by the time I walk to the beach from here."

"You rascal," the old man chuckled and handed over his keys, but added in a shrewd tone, "Don't forget to refuel."

Los Angeles has many famous beaches, and one of the liveliest is Venice Beach, right next to Santa Monica Beach.

Summer at Venice Beach is especially vibrant.

Besides countless tourists from around the world, Venice Beach's boardwalk is filled with various street performers, artists, cyclists, and skaters, making it feel like a bustling carnival.

After a ten-minute drive, Simon arrived at Venice Beach, paid two dollars to park, and headed to the famous boardwalk with his guitar.

Soon, Simon found a spot at a busy intersection on the boardwalk.

Setting down the guitar case and holding the guitar, Simon checked the feel and randomly picked Elton John's "Rocket-man" to start playing and singing.

Having lived two lives, Simon felt no embarrassment about busking. He thought it was more embarrassing for a man not to be able to support himself.

His newly unlocked guitar skills soon drew the attention of passersby. Although Simon usually focused on his performance without interacting much with the audience, groups of tourists stopped by, listened for a while, dropped some change, and moved on.

As the sun began to set toward the sea, casting long orange shadows behind Simon, he didn't feel tired even after nearly three hours of playing.

Glancing at the thick layer of coins in his guitar case, Simon thought he might not need to look for a second job after all. This would allow him to focus on other matters.

Just as he was about to finish his last song and call it a day, a beautiful hand reached out from the side over his guitar case.

It was a slender, long hand with fire-red nail polish—clearly a woman's hand.

These thoughts flickered through Simon's mind as his gaze dropped and noticed that the hand wasn't reaching to put money in the case, but rather toward the only $10 bill.

That was definitely crossing a line.

Simon lifted his foot and gently stepped on the 'mischievous' hand.

The owner of the hand hadn't expected Simon's action, and Simon hadn't expected her not to dodge. It was only when Simon's foot landed that an exaggerated female voice rang out.

"Ow, little boy, how could you step on someone? That's awful!"

Simon stopped strumming, withdrew his foot, and turned to look.

Janet Johnston was crouching next to the guitar case, staring accusatorily at him, completely lacking the self-awareness of a caught thief.

Katherine Bigelow stood beside her friend, looking helpless and apologetically smiling at Simon.

Simon happily turned to Katherine, ignoring the indignant woman on the ground. He had called Katherine after his meeting with Jonathan Friedman last week, but no one answered, so he left a message.

He hadn't expected this chance encounter.

Katherine was dressed simply in a shirt and trousers today, looking very professional.

Simon eyed the woman up and down and said, "What a coincidence, Katherine. What brings you here?"

Despite the non-threatening look in the young man's eyes, Katherine felt a bit uneasy and shifted slightly away from Simon's gaze, softly saying, "Jenny's studio is nearby, and I had a production meeting in Beverly this afternoon, so I came to head back to Malibu with Jenny."

Simon nodded, "So, about 'Night of the Living Dead,' how's the preparation going?"

"Casting is almost finished, but the production company has some funding issues. It might be delayed by a few months," Katherine shared, then added, "I saw your message. Also, Mr. Friedman called me; he's very impressed with you, just very surprised about your age."

Simon smiled, glanced at his watch, and said to Katherine, "I haven't properly thanked you for everything. Since we've met, how about I treat you to dinner?"

Being ignored by Simon, Janet already felt somewhat spitefully resentful. Hearing his offer, she pointed to the coins in Simon's guitar case and sarcastically remarked, "Little boy, you're not planning to use this money to treat us to dinner, are you?"