Lost In Pacific Time

Being single was a lonely thing. Carrie Bradshaw never looked lonely but then again her job was to write about the sexual escapades of her friends. I stood on the balcony of my home, from here I could see down the entire Sunset Strip coming to life. It was a Sunday and eleven at night and the nightlife was in full swing. The House of Blues was down to the east of my house and Whiskey A Go Go and The Roxy Theatre was to the west. In Vancouver there was some sort of place called The Roxy. Apparently NHL teams went there to celebrate after a win or there in general. It was known among the puck bunny set as the place to be after a game. I had never been there nor did I ever intend to but I had always been curious about it. I wondered why the hockey players didn’t just go somewhere else. Literally everyone in the city knew that that’s where they were to be found. Maybe the Roxy paid for their drinks or maybe they liked the attention they got there. I watched the lights of the Strip where everyone down below was young, skinny, and rich. I bet all anyone cared about, below was having fun and getting wasted. Oh to be young without a care in the world.
Immediately after saying this I thought about Milan. He was probably the epitome of this philosophy. On the other hand, I was basically a workaholic. I was glad I had chosen to take the weekend off, I had basically spent it pigging out on prepackaged carbs and lying on the couch. The only times I actually went outside was when I walked Dolce and Coco. I headed back walked into my bedroom from the interconnecting balcony. I climbed into my gigantic bed and with all the decorative pillow it felt like I was lying on a cloud.
______

Once again we lost in Vancouver, I was beginning to feel as though my luck in Vancouver was running out. Maybe we just weren’t meant to win in Vancouver but since the Canucks had home ice advantage if we couldn’t win in Vancouver, we couldn’t win the Stanley Cup. The thought of us losing tomorrow was enough to make my stomach turn. But winning the Stanley Cup in Vancouver in Game 7 was all I ever dreamed about as a kid. I was lying awake in bed unable to sleep while Britney was lying next to me sleeping as if she didn’t have a care in the world. I wondered what Amber was doing, was she also staring at the ceiling, thinking, like she always did. I remembered when I would awake up and find her staring at the ceiling in her room.

These days Amber would probably be ashamed if a picture of her childhood bedroom was sold to another tabloid. I obviously wasn’t going to be the one doing it because: I didn’t go around taking pictures of girls’ rooms nor did I really need the money. But I knew who would, Amber’s parents. I didn’t really know them that well and Amber didn’t really talk about them. Once she did talk about them and told me that they treated her more as an expense than a child. Also they didn’t put much of a struggle when she said she was planning to leave. The only thing that I knew was that they weren’t home a lot either because of work or because they staying overnight when they were attending weddings in the Okanogan during the weekends. Both of these things meant that Amber and I got to spend a lot of time together. I knew what it felt like to have your privacy exploited, well not really, but I lived in constant fear of it. Amber had probably spent her whole time in LA thinking that no one cared what she did behind closed doors.
______

I woke up at five in the morning thinking about pancakes. Blueberry pancakes with boysenberry syrup and whipped cream. Then I remembered that my cupboards were empty because of my distracted eating while watching Sex and The City and because I forgot to go grocery shopping. I decided to stop at IHOP after my six o’clock Pilates class instead. I’m sure they canceled each other out. The IHOP was actually four stores down from my gym, coincidence? I didn’t think so. The restaurant was pretty empty and the back of my legs stuck to the pleather booth but I liked it here. It didn’t pretend to be all fancy like McDonald’s with their fancy furniture but awful and generic food. My plate of pancakes arrived, five high and I poured all of the boysenberry syrup on it so I had to ask the waitress for more and she wordlessly took a bottle of syrup from the empty table next to me and plopped it in front of me. She like every other waitress was a part time actor who thought she was too talented for a job like this. At around seven thirty the breakfast crowd began to arrive.

“Oh my god, is that Ambrosia Li?” asked an unrecognizable high pitched voice.

I looked over to where the voice was coming from, expecting to see an old high school classmate. Instead I got a middle aged lady with a camera around her neck and a group of equally middle aged ladies.

“Can I take a picture with you?” she asked approaching my table with her posse.

“Sure,” I replied as she and her friends snapped away. We had to retake each picture about five times because they had to fix their hair or they blinked. They skedaddled away and I asked the instantly nicer waitress for a check.

“Will you sign this?” asked a preteen girl holding my now infamous InTouch cover and a silver Sharpie.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” I say as my check arrives.

“Why not? It’s true isn’t it?” she says as I put down twenty dollars from my mint green Louis Vuitton wallet without looking at the check. I’m sure my tip was going to help pay for the waitress’ next tank of gas, probably for an audition at Universal Studios.

I didn’t know how to respond to this and the good Canadian girl in me/Greg told me to censor myself and not say something bitchy. “Hand it over,” I say and scribble my signature large enough to make both Milly and the headline unrecognizable.

“Thanks” the girl says without even looking at what I’ve done to the cover “I like your wallet” she doesn’t wait for me to respond before walking away.

I shrug and leave the restaurant driving down the shiny unopened stores on Rodeo Drive to my office.

“You look happy,” Greg says as the production assistants mike both of us up. “Did you get any last night?”

“No, but I got some pancakes at IHOP the next best thing in the morning if you don’t have a guy to make them for you.” I reply happily.

“I’ll second that Amber,” Ivy says as she too walks in to get miked up. The two of us high-five and Greg rolls his eyes at us in an I-can’t-believe-how-immature-they-are way.

“I don’t even go to IHOP anymore,” Greg says the “I” like he’s the standard for what’s acceptable but that’s why we love him.

The three of us walk into the office and Jasmine is already there sorting through letters and stamping stuff “Good morning, Ms. Li, Greg, Ivy”

“Morning, Jasmine” I say walking up the stairs to my office. Jo comes in a few minutes later, hands me a copy of my schedule for the week, and goes over it.

“QVC, Bloomingdales, and Saks Fifth Avenue each want to meet you and see if you would like to do an exclusive furniture line this week.” Jo says flipping to the next page of what looks like a seventeen page report.

“Don’t they watch the show? During the credits two episodes ago I said I nearly failed Physics in eleventh grade when my balls of paper kept missing the waste basket. I mean I’m great at normal math but apparently just not Physics math where you have to apply it.” I say remembering how Milan got 98% on the final. When I asked him how he did it he was all like “Hockey has a lot to do with Physics Amber, just picture it in a hockey game.” That didn’t really work so I kind of decided to take Interior Design instead of Physics in twelfth grade and everything turned out fine.

“So?” Jo asks.

“Well I think you need Physics to design furniture. All my tables are going to fall apart!”
Jo laughs “Your tables are not going to fall apart Amber, do you really think Jessica Simpson or Paris Hilton design each and every shoe. They just want to pay you to have your name attached to the furniture and maybe reject some ideas you don’t see fitting for the line.”

“Oh, well what else do I have to do this week?”

“You’ve got about fifteen set ups to do this week, the first this afternoon at about one”

“Kay,” I say and Jo goes over when each and every meeting is.

Jo leaves and Jeff the camera man walks in and takes his seat in the middle of the room, where I’ve set up a permanent cream colored tufted arm chair. The phone on my desk rings and I answer it as with my left hand as I finish drawing a bench on my monogramed notepad.

“Hello, Ambrosia Li here” I say in my best professional voice.

“Hi Amber, its Ruby, you know from downstairs.”

I sigh “Yes, Ruby I know”

“Anyway, the Vancouver Pride Parade was requesting your presence. I was going to say no but then I realized that the parade is during your vacation in Vancouver…”

“The answer is still no, Ruby.”

“Okay, well should I tell them that you’re busy with antiquing and stuff?”

“No, just say that I’m busy that day.”

“Kay,” Ruby says “Hi, I’m sorry but Ms. Li is busy…” there’s some shuffling before Ruby comes back on the line “on July the thirty first.” Ruby reads.

“Ruby, your still on the line with me,”

“Sorry,” she says before hanging up on me.

“Come on, you know you want to ask,” I say to my fellow Canadian, Jeff the camera man, also known as, the guy who texts me the scores after every game because I am “too busy”.

“Okay, well do you think your hometown team will win the cup tonight?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want them to.”

“Why not? You like the Bruins?” Jeff teases.

“No!” I say a little too defensively “I just never liked the Canucks.” I explain.

Jeff rolls his eyes “Is it cause you think they’re ugly?”

I laugh, “That’s exactly what this guy I dated in high school asked me, it was true then and it’s true now, and I’ll give you the same answer I gave him. No, I just never liked them”

“What?!” Jeff kind of shouts “That’s like me saying I don’t like the Maple Leafs”

“Why would you? They kind of suck.” I say twirling around in my chair. “If they were a guy, they would make all these promises and probably fulfill none of them but you’d stick around because they’re loaded.”

“At least they’re better than Edmonton,”

“I beg to differ, even though they’re a kid what has no idea what they’re doing, they can at least use their youth as an excuse. Plus they’re adorable.”

“So what are the Canucks?” Jeff asks.

“They would be the kind of guy that would go to rehab every year during the summer and come out during the fall. And every year they’d come back to you claiming they’ve changed.
As soon as you hit the six month mark you’ve realized that they haven’t changed at all and shortly after they check themselves back into rehab.”

Jeff sighs “Then what is your favorite team?”

“The Red Wings of the Motor City”

Jeff nearly chokes on his coffee “Detroit?”

“Detroit.”

“Why?” he asks like I’m planning to shave off all my hair.

“They’re older and also more experienced but sexy nevertheless. They work their hardest to make you happy. They’re consistent and reliable, they call you when they say they will and pick you up when they say they will.” I reply without missing a beat.

“Honestly, Amber? Out of all the hockey teams/contenders for your heart you choose the Detroit Red Wings?”

“Yup,”

“Not only are they old but they’re an injury prone mess. If people saw you out with a guy like the Detroit Red Wings everyone would be thinking that it because you’re a grave robber waiting to be added to their will before poisoning their coffee.” Jeff replies.

I laugh “they saved your life three years ago and you feel forever in debt to them. Does that explain it any better?”

Jeff shakes his head at me “Yes Amber because girls can’t resist a hero”

“Why do you think firemen are so popular?”