Chapter 32

32

C learing customs and immigration at LAX airport had been a breeze. After ten years living in California—and after her marriage to a US citizen—Sol was the proud possessor of a blue passport that made things easier when visiting her former home country.

Once out of LAX, the city Sol had called home for a decade greeted her in the most LA-idiosyncratic way possible: with gridlocked traffic. There was nothing like a seven-lane-per-direction highway completely full of cars to welcome you to Los Angeles.

Fortunately, she'd decided not to drive herself during that visit and was aboard a ridesharing vehicle that she'd hailed on Uber. She managed to soak in the sunny views of the 405 freeway, which had never been much to contemplate because it ran four miles west of the ocean. Sol must have missed Los Angeles more than she'd realized if she was really that taken by the freeway landscape.

She would have preferred to stay in Venice Beach or Santa Monica and be able to walk to the Pacific during her visit, but the magazine had booked her at the London Hotel. The coincidence of the name wasn't lost on her; she couldn't escape the British city even in the West. The hip hotel was on the Sunset Strip in West Hollywood, and she would be walking distance from the indie bookstore Book Soup and a shortish hike away from the Chateau Marmont, in case she felt like celebrity watching. Yet, it contravened her longtime rule of never staying east of the 405.

Her interview with Richard Fynn would take place the following day, so Sol had time to sleep the jet lag off for a couple of hours but also enjoy the city and fall in love with it all over again.

She had brunch at AOC in West Hollywood with her friend Lola, who was a television screenwriter. They talked about a looming Writers Guild strike and the superiority of California hass avocados. Sol went to a referral-only Pilates class at the most sought-after and exclusive LA studio, which had opened after she left the city. She recognized at least a couple of minor celebrities sharing in the suffering of the class with her. From there, Sol headed to Venice for a stroll on the beach.

On her way from one place to another, she gazed at the many billboards on Sunset, Wilshire, Venice, and Lincoln Boulevards advertising an array of TV shows and films for the industry-insider Angelenos.

There would be no time to visit The Broad, the LACMA, or the Academy Museum. And she'd also have to leave her shopping at the Century City mall and on Melrose Avenue for a future occasion.

The one thing she hadn't done and still intended not to do under any circumstance was to meet her second ex-husband. The one who, on paper, had looked perfect but wasn't. The one who had deceived her.

During the last few months of their relationship, Sol had been convinced that David was having an affair with a much younger woman, only to learn he'd concocted the whole thing to make her jealous and reboot their marriage, which had run its course. She had gotten jealous and extremely self-conscious. She'd still divorced him.

Avoiding David was the only way Sol was able to rekindle her fondness for Los Angeles.

She was a bit nostalgic at the thought of her daily morning walks on the beach when she'd lived there. She'd jump out of bed, throw on a pair of wide-legged sweatpants and an oversized faux-fur jacket that she would never dare to wear in London or Barcelona, and leave the house like that. Back then, that had made her feel like an Angelena while walking among the throngs of skaters, runners, yoga-on-the-beach practitioners, dog walkers, and tourists.

But that had been another life. It felt like it all happened to a different person—and it had. The Sol who had lived there wasn't the same as the Sol who was now visiting.

All the remembrance made Sol tired. She was ready to catch the sunset at the beach, head back to her hotel, order room service for dinner, and go to sleep early when she got Luke's text.

Luke (Sexy PI): How is Los Angeles treating you? Please don't tell me you prefer it to London.

She rolled her eyes and decided to reply right away. Being in LA had made Sol realize that her ex-husband's strategy—pretending to be involved with someone more than a decade younger than him and Sol—had been what caused her hesitancy when faced with her and Luke's own age difference. Her latest relationship's lack of success was also why she'd been so delusionally intent on keeping Luke in some sort of nonsensical friend zone.

She was ready to consider putting all that aside now.

Sol Novo: Don't get jealous. You're too attached to your hometown.

Luke (Sexy PI): Look who's talking

Sol Novo: Why are you still awake? Isn't it like past three at night there?

Luke (Sexy PI): We have a new case on top of the Meshflixx case and surveillance is getting out of hand.

Sol wanted to talk to Luke in person for this conversation, but texting would have to do for now.

Sol Novo: Don't want to offer my unrequested opinion but…

Luke (Sexy PI): Please do

Sol Novo: Have you thought about working for a different agency?

Luke (Sexy PI): Constantly

Sol Novo: I see. Are the options so limited?

Luke (Sexy PI): Practically nonexistent

Perhaps, even if their two lines of work were completely different, Luke's and her chosen professions had more things in common than she'd realized. They both did what they liked, even if that meant less stability, certain social stigmas, an unclear path for career growth, and financial uncertainty.

Luke (Sexy PI): Need to let you go, sadly. The mark is on the move again!

Sol Novo: Have fun!

She could practically hear Luke groaning all the way from England. She knew he probably wasn't enjoying his current assignment, so she decided to have fun for him and savor the salmon-colored skies during magic hour.