Page 46 of Let's Kiss and Tell

“No,” she says. “We can do either Pasadena, Highland Park, Beverly Hills, or Venice.”

“Pasadena,” I say, for some reason wanting to pick the location farthest away.

“Perfect,” Lucy says. “Just go east and I’ll direct you.”

“Go east.” I repeat the most generic directions she could have given me. “Sure.”

We start drivingeastand my gaze occasionally falls to Lucy who’s looking really good in my passenger seat. I kind of hate how easy this all feels. I clock a small heart tattoo on the inside of her arm and then remember the flower one on her foot.

“How many tattoos do you have?” I ask.

“Five or six,” she says, and I instantly regret asking because now I’m picturing where on her body they are. I don’t think I caught any while boxing but I guess I was focusing on trying not to get my ass beat. “But they’re all small ones,” she adds. “What about you?”

“None. But I’ve always wanted one.”

She turns to me. “What would you get?”

“I have no idea. I’ve waited too long, now there’s pressure for it to be something perfect.”

“Your first one will be awful, it always is,” she says. “Don’t put pressure on yourself.”

“Assuming I’ll be getting more than one?” I raise an eyebrow.

“You’ll become addicted. It’s hard not to.”

I look at her. “What was your first tattoo?”

“My grandma’s name,” she says.

“And that one is awful?”

“Not the sentiment!” She laughs. “The font. I was like seventeen and went to some parlor up the street from where I lived. I asked the first guy I went to. If I were to do it now, I would have a nicer style.”

“What’s your grandma’s name?” I ask.

“Lillian,” she says.

“Beautiful name,” I respond.

“She’s my mom’s mom. I only met her once when I went to the Philippines as a kid…I was glued to her hip the whole time.” Lucy turns to me. “What about your grandmothers?”

“Eleanor and Mavis,” I say.

“Please tell me Mavis was married to your grandpa Marshall.”

“Mavis and Marshall Oakley,” I confirm.

“Iconic,” Lucy says. We turn on the radio and roll down the windows. I embrace the California breeze on my forearm while Lucy’s hair blows in her face.

Los Angeles can be described as a lazy paradise sprinkled with influencers and movie stars at every other restaurantora drug-infested den, depending on the news story. But you get the big picture only when you live here. There’s so much more to the city than the beach or filming locations. LA has small pockets of true community: Montrose, Eagle Rock, Lake Balboa, the list goes on. I often take for granted how great it is to live here.

As we drive up Forest Lawn, the backdrop of mountains and Griffith Park is to our right while in typical Los Angeles fashion the Warner Bros. Studios is to our left. I realize I’m on autopilot until Lucy tells me to exit in two miles.

When we exit, Lucy directs me to the most beautiful tree-lined street in Lower Arroyo. There are homes that must be upward of three million dollars surrounding us.

“Where are we going?” I ask skeptically.

She clicks her tongue. “You’re so impatient.”