A New Beginning (#4 of California Dreaming) a Los Angeles Series Read online

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  A NEW BEGINNING

  The Author

  Other California Dreaming series ebooks

  Other books by the same author

  California Dreaming

  A Los Angeles Series

  A California Dreaming Production

  Title | A New Beginning (#1 of the California Dreaming series)

  Author | Andrew J. Smith

  Publisher: Independently Published

  Cover image by California Dreaming Prod.

  ISBN | 9788827849293

  Youcanprint Self-Publishing

  © All rights reserved to the Author

  No part of this book may be reproduced without the prior consent of the Author.

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  4

  A NEW BEGINNING

  James woke up in the bed of his apartment with a huge headache, due to the hangover of the night before. He opened his eyes and thank God he was in his bed rather than in a cold cell. Andy's words had made him think. And the fact that he did not give up peace was ruining his life, and slowly, his past with Karen, was dragging him to the bottom. How long had he moved to Los Angeles, now... a week? Two maybe... and he had already managed to get a contract with a publishing house and had met a beautiful woman with whom he could possibly think of a serious story. While drinking the hot cup of steaming coffee in his hand, he watched the sun's rays illuminate the living room of his apartment on that sunny morning. First, he would meet Stacy, after which he would undertake to find something serious to write. He could not fuck anymore, it was time to get serious.

  Once out of the apartment, he got into the car and headed for the center.

  He arrived shortly thereafter, and parked right in front of the bookstore, deliberately ignoring the prohibition sign. He went down and entered.

  He saw Stacy almost immediately, behind the counter talking to one of her employees. She was on her back, and she didn’t see him right away. He took a few steps toward her, but someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned.

  «Hi.» She said, all beaming, Allison.

  He could not explain how little pleasure he felt in seeing her again, but he preferred to say nothing.

  «Hey.» He replied.

  «Is this the way to greet? You're rather rude to a woman.» She said, still in that same sly smile.

  «Let me know if you see anyone around, because here I see only a baby who pretends to be so.»

  «Damn, you woke up in a bad mood today.» She continued.

  «No, it's you who makes this effect, obviously.» He did.

  «I believe it’s your conscience instead. You know, I remind you that seducing young sixteen-year-olds is very immoral as well as illegal.» She concluded and winked at him in complicity.

  «Can we leave this topic alone?»

  At that moment, Stacy's voice made him jump. She popped right behind his back with a huge jovial smile.

  «James, what are you doing here?» The woman asked.

  She also noticed the presence of Allison and looked at each other for a moment.

  «Oh, do you already know each other?» She asked then, surprised.

  «No. It's the first time I see her.» He replied, before Allison could.

  «But I think I know you, instead.» The girl said, looking at him closely.

  «No, we do not get together.» He insisted.

  «I am pretty sure that… »

  But he didn’t let her finish the sentence, which said tightly:«We. Definitely. Don’t know. Each other.» Smiling then, to Stacy.

  «Yes! Now I remember, you're on the back of a book.» She pulled his novel out of her bag and showed the back with his black-and-white photo.

  «See?» She said, giving him a mischievous smile, clearly amused by the uncomfortable situation in which she had been hunted.

  «Anyway, I present him to you, honey. He's James Alliston, he's a writer, as you could well see.» Stacy said, smiling at her daughter and totally ignoring the hateful looks he was pulling at the girl.

  «Well, James Alliston doing the writer... » she paused for a moment and gave him a knowing look, «it's a real pleasure.» With that, she headed for the exit and disappeared into the crowd of people while Stacy recommended her to be careful and tell her that she should have been home not too late.

  «Why did you come?» She asked then, shortly thereafter, looking away from the store's exit and addressing him.

  At that point, James breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a little.

  «Nothing... I wanted to invite you out this evening.»

  She thought for a moment on the answer, then said, «Yes, I have nothing to do after work. Cut as usual at half past six.»

  Then the two greeted each other and he walked out of the bookstore, toward the car.

  He decided to head home to have the opportunity to rest a little, because of the night he spent.

  ***

  He arrived punctually at the appointment with Stacy and at about half past six, he was standing in front of the bookshelf, fresh from the shower and wearing an elegant shirt, silk pants and a dark jacket.

  Stacy went out and headed for the car, and after climbing, they left.

  «Where do you plan to go this time?» He asked, stopping at a red light.

  She smiled, and before telling him her plans, he could see the worried look on her part.

  It took twenty minutes to arrive.

  In the end, Stacy had convinced him to do this, although James had refused categorically, or at least he had tried.

  What he was witnessing was a fundraiser organized by the owner of the L.A. Star Magazine, which had organized a charity collection.

  «Tell me once again why we're here?» He asked, walking with Stacy at his side, while he was pulling out his cigarette pack with one hand and lighting one.

  «Great way to socialize, a writer who has returned to Los Angeles and who has not pulled out a book for at least three years will have to get noticed.» She said, giving him a smile.

  In truth, it was at least five years, he thought. He said nothing equally.

  «Oh, thank you so much, then.» He replied in an ironic tone.

  «Nothing.» She answered with a smile.

  Both, attended the presentation of the fundraising, where, one author after another, announced the latest news that would be published that year in the magazine.

  The L.A. Star Magazine was a periodical founded by the activist John R. Craimer, who, after creating one of the most famous magazines in Los Angeles, had collaborated with many successful writers, authors and producers, thus increasing the growth of his company.

  From what little he knew James, he was a man in his sixties at the head of a twelve million dollar company, counting the various related magazines he opened later. Now, it had more than three thousand employees, among authors and collaborators and experienced advertisers.

  He was a man who had built a kind of empire, relying only on his strength, married to a wife and very loyal to the latter. At least, this was what he knew about John Craimer. He had never had the chance to meet him in person, until now.

  At that moment, he himself went up on stage; picked up the microphone and started talking.

  «I am extremely grateful to all my readers and collaborators who have helped to promote this initiative. In fact, with pleasure I i
nform you that the fundraiser has reached seven hundred thousand dollars to share.»

  The guests applauded. Then Craimer went on.

  «From the total proceeds, ten percent will go to the collaborators while the rest will be donated to charity.»

  A resounding buzz of voices rose suddenly, and just then what he recognized as Warren Moore, John's vice president and right-hand man, took the stage. He took the microphone from his head and started talking.

  «You have to forgive, John. He loves to joke, and somehow found amusing the fact that most of your money could go to charity. But now let's be serious.» He paused and glanced at John Craimer for a moment. «I am pleased to report that in fact a share will go to charity, but the percentage will be exactly five percent. Everything else will be used to make the company and the L.A. Star Magazine Company grow again.» Then he thanked those present and followed another short applause.

  The way Warren smiled nervously, made it clear to James that what had just happened was in no way predicted. In fact, he could see John's grave look.

  Actually, everyone present could read a serious look on John Craimer's face without the slightest hint of a smile; evidently, he didn’t like how the vice president had put himself in the middle of his speech and interrupted him.

  Before he blew a good fight, he snapped and walked quickly enough, he started towards the stage. He climbed up and took the microphone from the vice-president's hands, while the latter, with an incredulous look, let him do it.

  «Good evening to all, very kind guests.» He began to say. «I introduce myself: I'm James Alliston and I'm a writer... or at least I try.»

  Some laughs from those present, who, now, were all looking at him. Stacy was watching him in shock, wondering, as he was doing at the time, what he was doing.

  «I don’t think that, better than us writers, nobody knows how important the use of words is. Precisely for this reason I believe that the hard efforts that all the collaborators present here have done to ensure that any magazine becomes one of the most read on the whole coast, is contrary to the proposal of John Craimer. I am sure that most of those present will take good account of the publicity turnaround and the good deed they will do, allowing their share to be donated to charity.»

  At that point, there was a nod to most of those present, although still the other half remained skeptical about it. He continued.

  «For the rest of those present who still believe that John Craimer is a madman or a visionary,» he paused briefly and captured the skeptical looks of the rich neighbors at the head of the company, «they didn’t take into account the opportunity to interests of the company, making good publicity for the company itself.» Another pause, and just as he turned to John Craimer, the latter looked at him with an ambiguous smile; reading in his eyes a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty, for what he was doing. «So, old dumbfounded, try to learn from this man and let the doors open to enlightenment. Now you can go in peace!» He finally concluded.

  The fact of wanting to end with an amen allured him a little, but he thought again and got off the stage between applause and nods of assent among all those present with sure step of himself headed back to Stacy, who at that time had a look astonished that she let only four words emerge, those that she actually told him as soon as he found himself in front of her.

  «How did you do?»

  «Nothing at all.» He did so, casually and earnestly.

  The reception was not yet concluded, and while the guests took turns to talk with him; wanting at all costs to know the person who had reversed the situation that way, and receiving many compliments on the style "smooth" and "linear" with which he had succeeded, the evening continued pleasantly.

  After several compliments and handshakes, many magazines, journalists and even some producers left him his business card. To hear them, «one who speaks that way, must write even better», or a young journalist with sparkling teeth and a fourth bra, showing off a smile that would have envied one of those advertisements for toothpaste, said:«I want to see you at work, James Alliston. Let's see if you can do with words on a piece of paper, as you showed tonight talking to the microphone on that stage.»

  Stacy seemed more than proud of him, but after all he had told her several times that making things understood by LA's bosses was not such a difficult task, it was enough to touch the right spot and open like canopies of Whoopass .

  In any case, he was happy to have done a good deed, and after all he had also earned it, remitting a few numbers here and there. Andy would jump for joy when he would say to him, the next day.

  He was there, near a beautiful woman, and he was enjoying that evening when he saw approaching ‒ nothing less than ‒ John Craimer.

  He was a big man at least twenty centimeters taller than James, and he had a big mustache that hung down to the sides of his mouth, while wearing a big Texan hat in the same color as the rest of the beige clothes, except for the trousers that were jeans, tied by a huge belt where a big golden coat protruded. If he had walked like that on the streets of Los Angeles, he would surely have been mistaken for an actor or something like that. It was hard to believe that he was running a famous magazine, instead. When he was a few steps away from him, James could not tell if he was smiling or not, because of the big mustache.

  «John Craimer.» He did the man. «Pleasure.»

  He held out his hand and he squeezed it: it was massive and rough, as much as the big man in front of him at that moment. Almost crushed his.

  «James Alliston.» He replied.

  «Never seen anyone stand up to my deputy.» The man said, then.

  At that moment, John turned to Warren, and he did the same.

  Seriously? He thought skeptically. In short, you are four times your deputy and you want me to believe that he’s the boss? His thoughts were read by John through his incredulous expression.

  «You know, at my age you don’t want to fight anymore, and now I leave the company issues to that leech.»

  «Now, everything is clear.» He replied.

  «But I really appreciated how you fought for a just cause, James.» He paused. «I am a man of healthy principles, and from what I have seen, you are too.»

  On this, he would have to say, but he preferred not to contradict the two-meter-old man standing in front of him.

  «After all, we are not so different from the two of us... even to certain tastes.» He gave him a knowing look, smiling at Stacy, and the latter smiled warmly. He patted him on the shoulder and almost let him out.

  «Listen, I need a new and energetic writer in my magazine.» The man began to say, coming suddenly serious. «Nothing challenging for someone like you. I've read many of your novels, James, and I liked them all.»

  He nodded and said, «What is it?»

  «I need a voice, here in Los Angeles, to take interest in L.A. Star Magazine, with his thoughts and conjectures.» The man said solemnly and pulled up the waistband of his trousers with both hands.

  «And what should I do, exactly?»

  «What you do best, James Alliston. Writing.» He paused. «A blog, my friend, and I bet if you manage it, readers will be happy to follow a person with high moral values like yours and your thoughts.»

  He had seriously said high moral values , he wondered, looking for a moment Stacy who seemed more than happy about the proposal John had just made. If only she had known all the truth, maybe that smile would not have been so brilliant.

  «I don’t know, I have to think about it.» He finally said.

  «The pay is two thousand a week, my friend, if that's the problem.» He made the man with a knowing smile.

  «It's not a question of money. Rather, I don’t think I'm the right person for this job. Besides, I'm grappling with a new novel and it will take me a long time.»

  Then the man sighed, and finally he started to speak.

  «Alright then. If you change your mind, I leave the company's business card. Behind my se
cretary's number.» He made the man, turning the small rectangular note to show him the number. «I hope it will make you feel soon, beast.» John concluded, with a big laugh and pulling another big slap on his shoulder. Then he turned and headed for the exit, where a large black sedan was waiting for him. He and Stacy left shortly thereafter.

  The moment they were in the car, she didn’t make a fold and despite James expected assertions like «you are a fool to have refused», or «did you hear what was the pay for only a week?», But she didn’t say nothing, and indeed, seemed rather quiet at that moment. Then, he impatiently turned to her.

  «Well, don’t you say anything?»

  «About what, exactly?»

  She looked really lost and her look left no resentment for her momentary refusal to John. Yet, so his ex-wife would have reacted, complaining that he acted irresponsibly by refusing a job as safe as that and that he would have to accept.

  «I don’t know what you want to hear... for me you did well to take some time to think about it, even if I thought John Craimer was a good person.» She said, Stacy.

  «I don’t know, I have to think about it.»

  «I agree, and basically if you miss this opportunity, you'll certainly have another, maybe even better. After all, you're a great writer.» She said, smiling.

  Although, they had just started to get to know each other, Stacy had remained the girl she had once been inside herself: modest and sincere. She seemed to trust his judgment and didn’t want to press him to any choice he did not want to do. He wasn’t sure whether to take this as a positive or negative fact. Inside, however, he still felt that knot in his stomach and the fear of trying for Stacy more than just physical attraction or infatuation.

  He started and left.

  As he drove, those thoughts kept buzzing in his head. Perhaps, it was true that he had always run away, but again he was afraid to face his responsibilities and simply feared he could not stand another relationship like that with Karen and was not sure he wanted it to end, when not for long before he still had shreds of heart that dangled in his chest for a failed marriage with his ex-wife. Of course, bringing a different woman to bed in the evening could alleviate some fear, but as long as she was not too serious with it. The game changed when the relationship pushed irremediably towards deeper feelings. He found himself reflecting on the fact that the main problem of people was precisely that of the fear of being able to open up completely. They were too fragile, and for fear they tended to deprive themselves of essential things like love because of the fear of losing the person they loved. No matter how old I was, on the contrary, it seemed as if more people were going with age and more the fears gripped him, because inexperience sometimes made you risk and only by betting everything you had the chance to win. Every good player knew this well. You had to know how to ponder, of course, but risking was the key point for a possible victory in every area.