Girl Act by Kristina Shook

liposuction,” in spite of the fact that Ray probably knew a few plastic surgeons that didn’t charge as much as the Beverly Hills kind.
    “Yeah, then you have to go back East; you’re wonderful the way you are. You don’t need plastic stuff done to you,” he said, like an agent and father-figure all in one.
    “Ray, you need to be singing. Cut a CD and sing in nightclubs; it’s time you have your ‘Frank Sinatra’ night life,” I said, knowing Ray was a part-time singer and that he had done it full time before becoming an agent.
    “I’m no Sinatra, but I do like to sing. Hey, you know what? My son’s living in Arizona and he’s got a girlfriend now,” Ray beamed.
    In my opinion, there is handful of great fathers, and if I had my way of changing the world, I’d rotate them, so that everyone would have one of these great fathers at least every other year, to be adopted even temporarily by these great, loving fathers. Why not! I’d be the first in line, although my father is not on the ‘bad’ dad list at all. He’s just a workaholic, who is emotionally awkward. He can’t show mushy love, where dads like Ray and Aldo say things like, “Damn it, you’re my kid; you’re my flesh and blood and that’s the best thing there is in this crazy, messed up, beautiful world. Anything you do right makes me proud.” Those kind of corny, cheeseball lines last forever. Being the Italian-American gentleman he is, Ray walked me downstairs, and whistled at the red BMW.
    “Not mine. You remember Shadow?” Ray nodded at my dog.
    “You gonna be safe enough?” he asked, like an agent/father.
    “Yeah, Shadow has a mean stare and a serious bark, and when anyone who is even half crazy approaches this car, he’ll snarl like he eats human meat,” I said, which was true.
    “Vivien, you ever think back to the night you were held at gunpoint?” he asked.
    “Not much, because I’m too busy enjoying being alive,” I answered.
    He gave me one of those pretend knock-out punches on my chin that affectionately means, ‘You’re good stuff’. Then he knocked on the hood, giving it the official drive- off salutation. I got in and headed toward the 101 Freeway, leaving Hollywood and all the one-liners, all the almost-movie-parts, all the commercial ‘smile’ auditions behind me. Shadow had taken his last wiz on a patch of grass near Hollywood Boulevard and La Brea. Off and away we went!

9
FREEWAY
    The freeway is open, wide and designed for screaming at the top of your lungs, for feeling the freedom of adventure and for driving a little bit past the speed limit. Just a little bit. The red BMW came with cruise control and I took full advantage of it. With Shadow in the back, I felt safe and energized. This was my first trip across the country. America had been just a map of names memorized from places in movies. Lots of movies! There were no vegan or vegetarian ‘hot spots’ on the GPS for going from the West Coast to the East Coast. Something somebody ought to do something about. So I was forced to stop in health food stores and refill my cooler with soy products, tofu and raw vegetables. Might not sound yummy, but it is.
    My first state after leaving California was Nevada. Wow. I have to say, there is nothing like driving across a desert landscape. There is a lot of it to see, and it’s not just bare, dry land. It’s beautiful in an un-lush non-green way. I had Googled doggy motels before leaving LA and, so far, the Super 8 motel chains were going to be the best place to stay the night.
    Heads up, when I first moved to LA I bought a large box of used VHS movies and a small TV that only played VHS at a yard sale in Burbank, near the horse stables. So FYI, the movies that I can quote lines come from that pack—none of them are current movies. So, my drive across country was about to be filled by visiting some of those fantastic film locations. Incidentally, at the yard sale I paid only forty dollars and that included the