Third/Final Installment of the Sid/Andy story
Title: The Second Most Important Person in the World
Fandom: Toy Story 3
Pairing: Sid/Andy
Rating: R
Word Count: ~60,000
Summary: The next forty years of Sid and Andy's lives, from seven outside perspectives. A sequel to Under the Table and Dreaming and To the Dogs or Whoever.
Notes: I don't even know how to begin to disclaim this. I want to write missing scenes from Sid and Andy's POVs and would welcome requests. A fan mix for this whole series will be posted soon. Thanks for reading, guys.
Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven
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Molly has been envisioning her return to Los Angeles since she left last summer. This time she's come prepared: pre-tanned and dressed more carefully, though not too carefully, her hair close to perfect after a cut and dye job that would bring her mother to tears if she knew how much Molly paid for it. She's been working at Pizza Planet part time, and so far she likes it much better than school. There are older boys who are actually worth flirting with, and the paycheck, the spending power. She feels grown up as she steps off the plane, and she should. She'll be graduating from high school in just a little over a month.
Though her whole ribcage is electrified with excitement, she tries to look as bored as possible as she walks through the airport, a pair of designer sunglasses hiding most of her face. They were a gift from Sid last time she was here, and he wouldn't tell her how much he paid for them, but she looked it up online when she got home and make a frog-like sound of surprise that brought her mother into the room. She's vain about them, at least keeping them on top of her head whenever she can get away with it. She pushes them there when she sees Andy and Sid standing near the baggage carousels, and her attempt at being too cool to care about being at LAX is gone as soon as she meets her brother's eyes.
"I thought you were some movie star for a second," Andy says. Molly laughs and jumps into his arms. She reaches around him to pull Sid against Andy's back so she can hug them both at the same time. Sid is smirking, trying not to seem overly happy to see her.
"I have about a billion things I want to ask you," she says to Sid, shifting over to hug him more completely.
"It's not really that exciting," Sid says.
"Um, yes it is?"
"She's gonna flip out," Andy says, smiling at Sid. "Can I tell her?"
"Tell me what?" Molly is bouncing in her platform heels, being totally suburban, but she can tell by Andy's face that she's about to get some very good news. "Tell me what?"
"Seneca is having a party tomorrow night," Sid says. He shakes his head like he can't believe he's been lowered to caring about this. "I'll be there, doing security, whatever. She said you guys can come."
"Me, me and Andy?" Molly says. "We can come? To the party? Like, as regular people?" She's still bouncing, pulling at Sid's arm.
"As regular people, yeah," Andy says. "We don't have to dress up like caterers or anything."
Seneca Considine is the singer who hired Sid as her private bodyguard back in December, when she was impressed by the way he handled what she viewed as an attempt on her life at the nightclub where Sid was working. Sid claims that she exaggerated both the seriousness of the situation and his own impressiveness, and that her hiring of him was only part of playing the situation for all it was worth in the press. Seneca wasn't really a big deal before the 'Potentially Lethal Nightclub Attack,' which Sid says was only a drunk guy trying to grab Seneca's chest. Seneca seems to believe that he was going for her throat, obsessed and murderous, and the court case against her attacker is still pending. The news about the incident has mostly been forgotten, but Seneca's career has taken off in the aftermath. Molly hears her singles on the radio on a regular basis back home. She's not a particularly impressive singer - pretty standard Top 40 love songs - but the fact that she's opened the door for Sid to circulate among the rich and famous has made her the most fascinating person in pop culture, to Molly.
"I can't believe this, oh my God - what am I going to wear - who's going to be there?" Molly is aware of the ridiculous volume and pitch of her voice as she walks out of the airport, holding on to Sid's arm.
"No idea and no idea," Sid says. "Wear whatever you want, it's not fancy or anything, it's just at her house."
"At her house? Oh my God!"
"And I don't know who'll be there, but I'm sure they'll plenty of creepy ass coke head guys who'll be all over you within two seconds, so you're not even going to the bathroom without me or Andy to escort you, got it?"
"Anything, okay, anything!" Molly has to call Amanda, and Courtney, and Michele. They'll faint with envy. She gets out her phone with the intention of calling her mother first, then decides against it, imagining the questions that might get asked. Will there be alcohol at this party? What time will you be home? Can I speak to Andy about this, please?
L.A. is just as she remembers it: hazy and hot and fantastically loud. Sid is driving a car that is much nicer than Andy's old Corolla, and Molly knows it's suburban to be impressed with leather interiors, but she is. She sits up front, and Andy leans between their seats while Molly examines the features on the dash, pressing a button that opens the moon roof.
"Is your new apartment as nice as your new car?" Molly asks.
"No," Sid says. "But it's less of a dump."
"It's a scene," Andy says.
"A scene?"
"Sid can't take the garbage down without getting hit on." Andy doesn't look happy about this. He looks just like he did when he left home, with his collar shirt and khaki pants, the same haircut he had when he was in high school. Andy loves rocks, and old Western movies, and owned at least one John Mayer CD as a teenager. Molly never thought he'd be remotely cool until she saw him with Sid Phillips at Pizza Planet when she was ten years old, and even with Sid as his boyfriend, Andy has mostly remained a dork. Their mother once described living in L.A. as 'somewhat trying' for Andy, and Molly never really thought about what that meant until now.
The traffic is horrendous, but to Molly even this is glamorous: real L.A. traffic. She spends the car ride texting the news about the party to her friends and asking Sid all the questions she's saved up since she heard about his new job. Sid doesn't do Facebook or email and doesn't even really do the phone, so aside from a few scattered texts she hasn't talked to him since he and Andy came home for Christmas, which was just a week before Seneca came along and changed their lives.
"Is she like, totally a bitch in real life?" Molly asks.
"No," Sid says. "She's just kind of dumb."
"Dumb like how?"
"Dumb like someone who's never had to fend for herself."
"She was a child star," Andy says, like Molly doesn't know that.
"She was a Mousekateer," Molly says, and Sid snorts. She gives him a jab in the ribs, almost as excited to be here with him as she is about the prospect of a real celebrity party. Sid is kind of like a celebrity, to her. He's definitely the most exciting thing that's ever happened to anyone in her family.
"I bet this car can go really fast," Molly says.
"In a perfect world," Sid says. They're boxed into a sea of cars on the freeway, presently.
"Don't give him any ideas," Andy says.
"Do you have any new tattoos?" Molly asks, ignoring her brother.
"A couple," Sid says.
"Where?"
"On my back."
"What are they of?"
"Molly, take a breath!" Andy says. He's just jealous that she's not asking a billion questions about him. She looks at him in the rear view, pushing her sunglasses down over her eyes.
"So Mom told me that you're celebrating your graduation by going to more school," she says.
"I have to get my Master's," Andy says. "Everybody in my program does. You don't get an undergrad degree in geology and just stop. Plus, smart ass, you're doing the same thing."
"We'll see," Molly says.
"We'll see?" Andy sounds like her mother, as usual. "What are you talking about? Mom said you're going to Western."
"I got in, anyway," Molly says. "Not like it's hard." She looks over at Sid, expecting him to either tell her to appreciate this opportunity or smirk at her with shared academic disinterest. He's just driving, his eyes hidden behind his own pair of sunglasses, which are vintage aviators.
"You'll like college better than high school," Andy says. Molly affects a yawn and reaches for the radio.
"I bet the sound system's good," she says.
"It's decent," Sid says. Andy scoffs.
"It cost almost as much as the car," he says.
Molly puts the window down to peer at their new apartment building as they approach, driving past landscaped waterfalls and a security gate that opens with a code. She has fond memories of their last apartment, with its little porch full of potted plants and the kidney-shaped pool with palm fronds clogging up its vents, but this is place is definitely an upgrade. It's a proper high rise, closer to the coast, and Sid's car fits in among other nice ones that surely have leather seats and expensive sound systems.
"Damn, guys," Molly says.
"I knew you'd love this place," Andy says. "It's so corny."
"I'm corny, then?" Molly reaches back to hit him.
"No," Andy says, deflecting the attack. "You're just young."
"Oh, God. You're only four years older, Mom. What floor are you guys on?"
"The tenth," Sid says. "Race you up the stairs?"
"Not in these shoes!" Molly says. She beams at him, the distracted sort of crush she has on him re-solidifying. He was a runner in high school, too, sort of, and they have a recurring joke about racing each other. Molly hasn't lost yet.
Sid carries all the bags, and on the walk to the elevator they pass the sort of people Molly remembers from strolling Rodeo Drive last time she was here: their expressions of transcendent boredom put Molly's attempts to shame. It's a very different kind of boredom from what she's seen at home, not frustrated but achieved. She's texting this to Courtney as they ride up to the tenth floor, but Courtney isn't getting it.
"I bet the pool here is awesome," Molly says.
"It's crowded," Sid says.
"Who cares? Good! Can we go?"
"He only got like two hours of sleep before we had to come get you," Andy says.
"No, it's okay," Sid says. "I'm getting used to not sleeping."
"I guess you could use some sunlight," Andy says. He leans over to kiss Sid's shoulder, and Molly turns back to her iPhone. Her own first kiss came just a few months ago, embarrassingly belated and generally disappointing. She made Andy tell her about his first kiss with Sid once, and he got red-cheeked and flustered just talking about it. It started out as a dare, apparently. Her brother claims to know how lucky he is, but Molly is pretty sure he never could, not unless he went back and endured high school without a boyfriend.
The apartment is lovely, though underfurnished and cluttered with the artifacts of Sid and Andy's daily routines. There are empty energy drink bottles lined up on the counter in the kitchen, sweatshirts thrown over the back of the couch and shoes piled up behind it. Andy's geology lab work is spread across what might have otherwise been a dining room table, rock specimens laid out over newspaper. There's nothing hanging on the walls.
"You guys need a woman's touch in here," Molly says.
"Volunteering to clean up?" Sid says.
"Uh, no. Just saying."
She walks out onto the porch, glad to see Andy's plants still alive and well. The view is good, though she can't see the ocean, and the hot wind makes her feel like she's stepped into a movie. Andy follows her out onto the porch and gives her a hug from behind, which makes her forgive him, partially, for all the good luck he's had.
"It's like your lives are actually starting," Molly says. "It's so exciting."
"Yeah," Andy says. "Except, I don't know."
"Except what?"
"He's gone a lot." Andy turns to look at Sid, who is mixing drinks for them. "I don't want him to do this forever, this personal security stuff. It's been kind of hard."
Molly wants to ask what he means, but Sid is headed toward them with the drinks, which are fizzy and pinkish.
"We got this girly shit in your honor," Sid says, handing one to her. "Raspberry liquor and champagne."
"Don't tell Mom we let you drink," Andy says.
"Duh." She kisses her brother's cheek. He actually looks kind of sad and exhausted, though just subtly. "Thanks, guys. This is, like. Already the best week of my life."
They dress in swimsuits and head down to the pool after another round of drinks. Molly has only ever been allowed to have the rare glass of wine with dinner, though she once tried beer at a party. It was kind of like kissing: a lot of buildup to something that tasted funny and didn't alter her state of existence at all. This champagne cocktail, however, is wonderful, and the slight floaty feeling it has brought on is the perfect accent to arriving at the apartment complex's pool, which is on the roof, surrounded by planters with fat little palm trees and flowers that cascade down onto the deck. There's music playing, some kind of retro hotel lobby jazz, and the pool is crowded but not noisy, everybody either sunbathing or hunched over their phones, trying to see the screens in the glare from the sun. They find three chairs together and set out their towels, which are three ratty old bath towels, the only ones Sid and Andy own.
"Nobody's swimming," Molly says.
"They never swim," Andy says.
"I do sometimes," Sid says. "In the morning, if I'm not half dead after work."
"What are your work days like?" Molly asks.
"They're work nights, mostly," Andy says. "Though, yeah, I guess sometimes there are day jobs, too. It's kind of like. Twenty-four hours."
"That part of it sucks," Sid says. "I just show up wherever and whenever she calls me. But she's paying for it, so."
"All this money would be nice if we could actually use it to, you know, do stuff together," Andy says.
"It's not permanent," Sid says. He reaches over and touches Andy's knee. "I just need to get established. Then I can get a more regular gig."
"I know," Andy says.
"Aren't you going to take your shirt off?" Molly asks Sid, who laughs.
"Jesus, Molly," Andy says.
"What? I want to see the new tattoos!"
She was picturing a few small ones on his back, and she gasps when she sees the blue dragon that's now slithering across his spine, waves crashing around its slender body.
"I wasn't gonna get one this big, but this artist is really good," Sid says. "It's Leviathan."
"Who?" Molly asks, running her fingertips down over the dragon's shining scales.
"A sea monster from the Bible," Andy says. "He's one of the seven princes of hell."
"Holy crap," Molly says.
"I used to play this video game where you fought him," Sid says. "It's not a hell thing. Though 'the seven princes of hell' is kind of a rad concept."
"Sid says 'rad' now," Andy says when Molly smirks at him. "It's alarming, I know."
"Does he get it from Seneca?"
"No," Sid says.
"Yes," And says, and he laughs when Sid slides over to his chair to tackle him. Andy cringes into a position that's half defensive, half hug, his arms around Sid's shoulders as he squirms. Molly catches his ankle and gives it a tug.
"Let's throw him in the pool," she says.
"No way, I'll kill you!" Andy says. Apparently this constitutes a different sort of scene here in the land of rooftop pools, because people are looking up from their phones with disapproving stares, but Molly doesn't care. She's just glad to be here with them. It's been lonely at home, where her mother's lack of a boyfriend makes her own that much more hard to bear. Molly tries not to be at home on Friday or Saturday nights, the television and take out pizza routine too depressing, but she hates the thought of her mother going through that by herself.
"I think that girl is sneaking pictures of you with her phone," Molly says to Sid when they've all migrated into the pool, Andy treading water and Sid leaning against the wall with his arms stretched out.
"No, she's not," Sid says without looking.
"Actually, I think Molly is right," Andy says. He swims over to Sid and rests his chin on Sid's shoulder, staking his claim. Sid wraps his arm around Andy's waist and holds him there. It still makes Molly nervous, seeing them touch each other in public. Back home they would at least be gawked at.
"You're getting weird tan lines," Andy says, and he eases Sid's sunglasses up onto his head.
"I don't care about my tan lines," Sid says.
"But you have to, you're famous now." Andy kisses him on each cheek, then checks to see if the girl is still sneaking pictures.
"He gives me a hard time about this," Sid says, looking at Molly. "But they never even released my name, and nobody cares anymore."
"Just wait until the trial of this alleged murderous psychopath," Andy says. "Sid is going to have to testify. Then it'll all be a matter of public record. Cameras at the courthouse, of course - Seneca will make it into the biggest deal possible, free publicity."
"So what?" Molly says. "It'll turn out okay. Everything always turns out perfect for you, Andy."
"Oh, Christ!" He lets go of Sid and sinks a little, pretending to be overcome with hilarity. "Are you serious?"
"Um, yeah." She's not bitter or anything. She just wants to hear him say out loud that he won the luck lottery.
"You've got no idea," Andy says. "No idea how hard I worked on my grad school application, and that's only the start. This is one of the top programs in the country."
"Poor you," Molly says. She glances at Sid, but he's pretending not to pay attention, squinting up at the cloudless sky.
"I only mean to say it's going to be brutal," Andy says. "The workload, and the pressure, the competition, and - and, yeah, you just. You have no idea how hard it is to be an adult."
Molly doesn't want to fight, so she splashes him and swims backward, soaking her hair before thinking about how hard it will be to get it looking good again, now that it's been chlorinated. She closes her eyes and floats, the water filling her ears. She wants to move out here, to California, but she doesn't have a scholarship or the love of her life as an excuse. Andy had both. She doesn't want to think that it isn't fair, but it really just isn't.
On the way back down to the apartment, Seneca calls and asks Sid if he's free to escort her to a spa in thirty minutes. He says yes.
"He always says yes," Andy says.
"Maybe she'll burn out early today and let me have the night off," Sid says. "I told her my sister-in-law's in town."
"Sister-in-law?" Molly smacks her hand over her mouth. "Did you guys get married?"
"No, no," Andy says.
"That's just how I think of you," Sid says. He shrugs and hurries out of the elevator when the doors open. Molly glances at Andy, and he smirks.
Sid dresses for work without showering the chlorine smell off, but it actually goes well with the cologne that he sprays on himself. Seneca has requested that he wear it whenever he's working.
"I like it," Molly says, and it's true, it suits him, a kind of wood and leather smell.
"She picks out his clothes, too," Andy says. He's in the kitchen, making more champagne cocktails.
"She doesn't pick out my clothes," Sid says. "She just bought me a bunch of these shirts." He pulls on the hem of the one he's wearing, a simple gray t-shirt that looks finely made. "It's nice. They're good shirts."
"Well, here's to our wealthy benefactor," Andy says. He drinks from his glass of champagne. Sid looks at Molly and shakes his head.
"Don't let him get wasted," he says, and she laughs, but he looks kind of serious.
When Sid is gone, Andy and Molly lounge on the couch and finish off the last of the champagne, still wearing their swimsuits. They talk about their mother; Andy is worried about her, too, and Molly doesn't point out that worrying out her from the West coast isn't quite the same as finding her asleep at the kitchen table with her face pressed to one of her client's files. Because they've both been drinking, they also talk about their father.
"Mom told me he called the house," Andy says.
"Yeah." Molly pulls a section of her damp hair forward and holds it in front of her eyes, braiding it clumsily. "It's so stupid that I feel like I have to be nice to him."
"I know," Andy says. "But it was the same with me, last time I saw him. Jesus, what did he say?"
"Nothing much. How am I, blah blah. Am I going to college, where, what do I want to major in. I don't know why he bothers. He asked about you."
"Yeah?"
"I told him you were brilliant and successful and living out in California. I didn't say anything about Sid. I wasn't sure you'd want me to."
"No, yeah - I wouldn't." Andy looks down at the champagne glass, turning it in his hand so that it reflects the blazing late afternoon light in angry sunbursts. "Not that I'm ashamed or anything."
"Oh, I know -"
"I just - he doesn't know me. And he doesn't care to, not really. So he doesn't get to know what I really care about. Right?"
"Right." Molly leans over until her head is on Andy's shoulder, and they both watch the light show that the champagne glass is making. She closes her eyes for a moment, remembering when she can't wrench them open again that she got up at five o'clock this morning to catch her flight out here. She falls asleep, waking only partially when Andy extricates himself and drapes a fleece blanket over her. They've got the air conditioning blasting full force, and it feels good to huddle under the blanket, her wet hair hardening to a helmet as she sleeps.
She wakes up with a headache, and the apartment is quiet. Outside, the sun has just started to sink, the haze in the air taking on an orange glow that makes her think about how close they are to the desert. She goes to the fridge and pulls out a fat bottle of the kind of water she became addicted to last time she was out here: Fiji, outrageously expensive and just as delicious as she remembered. She peeks into the bedroom and sees Andy sprawled out on his stomach in bed, hugging a pillow. Her head is still a bit swimmy from the champagne, and her eyes get wet as she lingers in the bedroom doorway. She knows she shouldn't throw Andy's enviable fortune in his face; he deserves everything he has, everything good in the world.
She's missed five calls from her mother. She takes the Fiji bottle out onto the porch and listens to the calming sound of distant sirens before dialing.
"Finally!" her mother says. "I've been worried, you didn't call."
"I know, I'm sorry, I just got wrapped up. Mom."
"What?"
"Sid called me his sister-in-law! But they're not married. But oh my God. Did Andy tell you about the car? And the apartment, the pool on the roof? It's so awesome. I love it here."
"Yes, it's all very exciting," her mother says. "But I'm a little worried about, you know. The two of them getting involved in that world."
"That world?"
"With that singer lady, buying Sid all of these fancy things - I don't know. Andy is worried, too."
"Of course he is. That's what Andy does. But Mom, c'mon. This is so much better than where Sid was working before. And the hours are kind of weird, but it's temporary. He's just doing it until he can find a regular gig."
"I see. I just worry that this is not exactly a pathway to a 'regular gig.' Especially if he gets used to the kind of money she's paying him."
"Did Andy tell you how much?" Molly asks. She turns to check over her shoulder.
"No, and don't you dare ask them."
"I wasn't going to! Mom, you should come out here. Everything is, like. I don't know. It feels like things are happening here, you know?"
"Mhm. I've been to L.A., it's not really my town. I'll fly out there when they have a house. Or - did he really call you his sister in law?"
"Yes! I almost died. And Andy looked all moony afterward, too. So cute."
"Well, good. I mean - he seems okay? Your brother?"
"Of course! Mom, God. Don't worry about Andy. Sid takes awesome care of him. You should see this place."
"And Sid? He doesn't seem too changed, by this new lifestyle?"
"Not at all! He's the same as ever. Actually, he seems calmer, like, happier. Oh, and he has a new tattoo. This crazy water demon thing. That sounds bad, but it's really awesome. It reminds me of those Japanese mafia tattoos."
"I'm not familiar with those. Molly?"
"Yeah?"
"If you come back with a tattoo -"
"Mom! No way! I wouldn't!" She hadn't considered it, but it's not a bad idea.
She hangs up with her mother and stays out on the porch while the sun goes down, texting and browsing Facebook, mostly looking at Andy's page, his pictures of Sid. Where is her tough-looking but tenderhearted boy who will dare her to kiss him? Seventeen years is too long to have to wait for such a thing.
Andy doesn't wake up until the sun is almost completely gone, a few very bright stars appearing over the city. He walks out onto the porch and finishes off the water while Molly texts Courtney to say she has to go, her evening is beginning.
"When's Sid getting home?" Molly asks. Andy shakes his head.
"She took him to some restaurant," he says. "Then they'll go to a bar. Who knows. He'll be back late, he always is."
"So we can have sibling bonding time!"
"Yeah."
Molly tries not to show her disappointment as they primp for dinner, sharing the bathroom mirror. Andy shaves while Molly dries her hair, and she wonders if Sid is having fun or miserably watching the clock. She wants to talk about him, to ask Andy what he meant before about things being hard, but she doesn't want his mood to get any gloomier, so she hums under her breath instead.
They take Andy's old Corolla to a restaurant in town, and it looks ridiculous in the hands of the crisply dressed valet. At the hostess stand, Andy tells the four beautiful girls who attend it that his reservation has been downgraded from three to two. The hostesses make no comment about the change. The girl who will take them to their table simply replaces one of the menus she had collected before leading them through the dark, noisy dining room.
"This place is awesome!" Molly says when they're seated at a tiny table in an alcove near the back. The decor is a mix between a retro tropical-themed pool deck and a modern nightclub, palm leaves backlit with red lights.
"It's okay," Andy says. "I forgot how loud it gets in here." They have to shout across the table to hear each other over the music and chatter from other tables.
"It's cool," Molly says. "Better than Chili's or Pizza Planet." Actually, she wouldn't mind being there instead if it meant Sid could be with them. She looks down at the menu. "No prices?"
"If you have to ask." Andy shrugs. "Get whatever you want. Sid gave me money before he left. I guess he knew he wouldn't be able to come."
"Let's get fancy drinks," Molly says, not wanting to linger on that subject. "They have organic cocktails with fresh fruit." She's mostly kidding, expecting Andy to remind her that she's underage and will be carded, but he just nods, and the waitress doesn't even look up with Molly asks for a guava-orange martini. Andy orders beer.
"So tell me about your rocks," Molly says when the conversation lags.
"You don't want to hear about that."
"Yes, I do! Those ones all over the table? What's going on there?"
"Just - it's a project I'm doing. Let's talk about you going to college. You have to, okay?"
"I have to?" She's not in the mood for this conversation, either. "I don't have to do anything. I'll be eighteen in two months."
"Molly." Andy rubs his fingers over his eyes. "You know what I mean."
"Why can't I just work in a flower shop or something?" she says. "I'd like that. Doing the arrangements. I'd be good at that."
"A flower shop? I don't know, fine, but you should still give college a chance. In case the flower shops aren't hiring."
"There's got to be one hiring somewhere. I can live anywhere I want. I could even move to another country." She says this without conviction. Her mother has promised to help her pay for college, but if she decides not to go, she's on her own.
"You're being silly," Andy says. "You should live with mom for the first few years, save some money."
"Don't give me money advice."
"Huh? Why not?"
Molly raises her eyebrows, and Andy scowls.
"If it were up to me we'd be saving every dime he's making," Andy says. "But it's not my money and I can't tell him what to do."
"Um, duh, and how can you be so negative about this?" Molly says. "That car is, like. A good investment."
"Nothing depreciates faster than the value of a car. And we're throwing away money on rent at that place -" He rubs his hand over his eyes again. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, I don't want to talk about college."
"Great!" Andy gulps the last of his beer. "Talk about something else, then. And don't pretend you want to hear about rocks."
"I wish Sid was here," Molly says, drumming her fingers on the table.
"Yeah, no kidding," Andy mutters.
They're both quiet for the rest of the meal, Molly pushing decorative greens that look like the clovers around on her plate. Her fish is good, and Andy's duck is 'fine,' according to him. Molly switches to water after finishing her martini, and Andy has another beer.
"Look," he says when they're waiting for the valet to bring the car around. "I know you don't want to hear this, and, believe me, this is my least favorite position to be in, advice-wise, but I really think you'll regret it if you don't go to college."
"Why are you so worried about this?" Molly asks.
"Because I love you!"
"Do you still fight about this with Sid?" she asks, beginning to realize why it's bothering him so much. "The GED thing?"
"Hell no," Andy says. "I gave up that ghost as soon as moneybags came along and bought him nice shirts."
Back at the apartment, Sid is still not home, and Molly doesn't again ask when he will be. Andy changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt and checks his phone obsessively while they watch Back to the Future on TV.
"What time is the party tomorrow?" Molly asks.
"I don't know," Andy says, thumbing something into his phone. "Night time?"
"Ask Sid, okay? Is that who you're talking to?"
"Uh huh. We mostly talk on these things lately. It's like a long distance relationship."
"Quit complaining and ask him my question. I need to get my hair done, and shop, and all that."
"Oh, boy. He says the party is at six. That's weird. Seems kind of early for this sort of thing."
"As if you go to Hollywood parties all the time," Molly says.
"Only vicariously," Andy says.
When the movie ends, Andy takes his phone to bed and shuts the door behind him. Molly lies on the couch in the dark and watches the ceiling, unable to sleep. She's sure Andy is awake, too, texting with Sid or maybe just moping. Before she's finally able to sleep, a sense of dread overtakes her, and she wonders if they have to go to the party tomorrow or not, which is ridiculous, because of course she wants to, why wouldn't she? Whether or not she and Andy go, Sid will have to, so at least they'll all get to be together.
She wakes up to unfamiliar noises and panics for a moment when she doesn't know where she is. Recovering from the shock of waking on a couch that smells vaguely of spilled beer, she sits up and looks into the kitchen. It must be close to dawn, enough bluish light coming in through the windows that she can see Sid drinking from a huge bottle of Gatorade.
"Hey," he says. "Sorry. I didn't want to wake you up."
"What time is it?" Molly asks. She tries to put her hair in order, but it's hopeless, and she flushes when she thinks of how she must look right now.
"I don't know, five?" Sid says.
"And you're just getting back?"
"Yeah." He puts the Gatorade away and walks into the living area. "She always fucking does this to me. Can I come for a few hours? Sure. Then the day, you know. Progresses."
"Dang. You worked like -" She counts the hours on her fingers. "Fifteen hours?"
"I know. I'm dead on my fucking feet. Two hundred bucks an hour, though. Can't say no to that."
"Two - are you serious?" Fifteen times two is thirty, plus two zeroes. "Oh my God!"
"Yeah. Here." He digs out his wallet and hands her a stack of hundred dollar bills. "Andy said you want to go shopping."
"Sid! I can't - holy - this is like a thousand dollars!"
"Shit is expensive in L.A. I'm gonna go to bed for awhile. Sorry I woke you."
He leaves her sitting there with her mouth hanging open and her hands full of money. She blinks down at the bills, feeling as if she's in a dream. When she looks up Sid is closing the bedroom door quietly behind him.
Unable to get back to sleep, she tucks the money into her purse and heads for the shower. Something about what just transpired bothers her, and she can't put her finger on what. She tells herself she'll feel better later, when she's at Seneca's house, glimpsing the behind the scenes elements of Sid's job. Andy says Seneca just wants to pay people to hang out with her, that she likes having Sid around not because she thinks her life is in danger but for the same reasons Andy always wants him near.
"You think she wants him?" Molly had asked when they talked about this on the phone a few weeks before her trip.
"I know she does," Andy said. "But it's not like I'm worried."
"Yeah. 'Cause he's gay. And totally devoted to you."
"Exactly," he said. He'd sounded worried, but Molly thought he was just being paranoid. Now - the cologne, the shirts - but it doesn't matter, because Sid would never be taken in by someone like Seneca, no matter how much cash she threw at him.
Sid is still asleep when Andy emerges for breakfast. He doesn't look very well-rested, and he's silent over his bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats.
"Want to come shopping with me?" Molly asks.
"I have to work on my project," Andy says, nodding to the rocks. "Sid can take you. He actually has the day off. I guess Seneca has to sleep sometime."
"What all did they do last night?"
"Nothing. They never do anything. They hang out with the rest of her entourage - bars, clubs, rich people's houses. He gets so bored."
"I bet," Molly says, and Andy gives her a look like she expressed doubt over this.
"He's not a people person," Andy says. "Not those kind of people anyway."
"I can't wait to meet them," Molly says. "I bet they're super hilarious."
"Yeah," Andy says, and he puts his face back in his cereal bowl.
After breakfast, Molly kills time on Andy's laptop while he works with his rocks. She glances up at him occasionally, trying to figure out what he's doing. He explained it as 'measuring simulated seismic activity in a variety of commercial grade concretes' which means exactly nothing to her. When Sid comes out of their bedroom he's wearing jeans and a t-shirt that does not look expensive, just thin white cotton. He stands over Andy for awhile, watching him scrape dust from one of the concrete chunks onto a slide.
"You only slept five hours," Andy says.
"I'll drink a Red Bull." Sid says. He bends down and kisses the top of Andy's head. Andy keeps working, his eyes narrowed and his forehead creased.
"Ready for shopping?" Molly asks when Sid walks over to her.
"What now?" Sid says, and Andy laughs.
"I said you'd take her. I'm too busy, especially if this party starts at six."
"It'll be fun," Molly says, tugging on Sid's wrist. "We can get our nails done and everything."
"You think that's funny?" Sid holds up his hands to show her his perfect cuticles. "She makes me do it once a week. Fucking humiliating."
"Okay, so we'll skip the nails," Molly says, actually kind of horrified by that mental image. "Will you take me to the tar pits instead?"
"Sure, fine." Sid looks at Andy. "You really can't come?"
"I really can't," Andy says. He still won't look up from his work. Sid stares at him for awhile before turning back to Molly.
"Let's do this," he says.
Out in the city, the day is the same as the one before: uncomfortably bright between the cement and the sky, stuffy with heat even with the wind kicking up the dust. Molly has her hair done first, just a blow out, but it costs a hundred dollars after tip. Sid is reading a magazine when she reenters the salon's lobby, and he's found a toothpick somewhere. He chews on it, flips it over with his tongue, and chews on it again. He looks up at Molly when her shadow falls over him, and she does a twirl to show off her hair's new bounciness.
"Will I fit in?" she asks. "With this hair?"
"Jesus, don't worry about that," Sid says, standing. "You'll be the youngest person there. In this town, that means you win."
They shop for clothes next, and Molly makes Sid pick something out for himself. He groans through the whole thing, but allows her to use some of the money he gave her to buy him a black button-up shirt that suits him. Molly gets a long skirt that makes her think of fortune tellers at carnivals, but in a good way. She tops it off with a tiny white t-shirt that costs eighty-eight dollars. It feels marvelous against her skin, like all along she only thought she was wearing t-shirts, but this is the real thing. A pair of new platforms and a clutch purse later, the money is almost gone.
"I could live here," she says as they walk past the tar pits, her new purchases secure in the trunk of Sid's car. "It's just - the air feels different, you know?"
"Yeah, full of grime," Sid says. "But I know what you mean. This place, I don't know. I feel sane here."
"Right! Everything that happened with Seneca, and how well you're doing now, it's like it was meant to be."
He says nothing, stoic behind his sunglasses, and they walk on, past school groups and tourists with cameras. Molly thinks of taking pictures with her phone, but the tar pits aren't really that photogenic. She takes her phone out anyway, to check the time. Just three hours until the party.
"So Andy seems kind of stressed," she says.
"I told him he should take the summer off instead of starting his grad courses right away," Sid says.
"You think he will?"
"Hell no. And I guess he'd get bored, with me working so much."
"Hmm, yeah. How much longer do you think you're going to do this, with Seneca?"
She doesn't expect him to answer right away, but she can barely get the question out before he speaks.
"I just want to save fifty thousand dollars," he says. "Can I show you something?"
"Um, sure."
They head to the car, and Molly thinks of asking where they're going, but as they pull away from the heat and clutter of the city she gets the feeling that Sid wants her to wait and see. The quiet between them and the cold blast of the air conditioning is so cozy that Molly wonders if this is what being driven around by a father feels like. About twenty minutes outside of town, they're in rolling hills where the air again feels different, lightened by the scent of the ocean and the desert.
"It's this one right here," Sid says, and Molly has guessed what they're looking at by the time they pull up to a retro ranch house with a very neatly kept yard and a FOR SALE sign by the mailbox.
"It's been on the market for like a year," Sid says. He parks the car by the curb and gets out, throwing his sunglasses onto the driver's seat. "It's got a pool," he says as Molly follows him toward the house, which looks like it was built in the sixties, bright olive green with little diamond-shaped windows in the front door.
"A really small pool," Sid says, "But still, a pool. And houses are real cheap right now, you know, like, it's a buyer's market. There's three bedrooms, so he could have an office and I could have a gym, and we'd put futons in them so you and your mom could have your own rooms if you came to visit. And I only need like three more months of saving and I can get it, and Andy doesn't know, and I'm not gonna buy it without asking him but I still don't want to bring him out here to see it until I have all the money, so don't tell him, okay? What? What's wrong?"
Molly laughs so she won't start crying. She flings her arms around his shoulders and hugs him hard, her heart pounding like she's the one who just got surprised with a house. He hugs her back before setting her down, his cheeks going pink.
"I moved us into that apartment 'cause I thought he would like it," Sid says. "But it was stupid, that place is a joke. This is, like. This is somewhere he'd want to live."
"It is," Molly says. She turns to the house and clasps her hands under her chin, imagining Andy opening the front door to collect the newspaper, Sid mowing the lawn. "Can we look in the windows?"
The house has a stone fireplace and a stainless steel appliances that look new. The pool is tiny but adorable, kidney-shaped like the one at their old complex, shards of palm fronds floating in the shallow end. The yard itself is large and fenced in, and Sid narrates its details obsessively as they peer over the fence.
"See where that kind of rock garden thing is? We could do a pond there. And I think that's an avocado tree. And those over there are yucca plants. We could plant that lemon tree we have over there, and then maybe if I save some extra money we could get an in-ground jacuzzi put in. I have this friend who I used to work with at the club, his day job is installing pools. He'd give us a good price."
"It's perfect," Molly says. She kisses Sid's cheek. "Perfect, he'll love it."
Sid talks about the neighborhood on the ride back into the city, how the commute to UCLA wouldn't be too bad, and how he hopes to find work as a personal trainer after Seneca. Molly is so excited on her brother's behalf that she can't stop tugging at her seat belt and tapping her heels against the passenger side floor mat.
"You guys are going to be so happy," she says, in awe of how true this feels.
"Don't jinx it," Sid says, but he's smiling. "I've still got to get through three more months of this personal security shit if I have any hope of making the down payment. And that trial, goddamn. Andy's right, that'll suck."
"You'll be fine," Molly says. "Seneca loves you, right? She'll take care of you."
"Loving something and taking care of it are two different things."
"You sound like a fortune cookie. Relax! Everything's gonna work out."
Part one, continued
Fandom: Toy Story 3
Pairing: Sid/Andy
Rating: R
Word Count: ~60,000
Summary: The next forty years of Sid and Andy's lives, from seven outside perspectives. A sequel to Under the Table and Dreaming and To the Dogs or Whoever.
Notes: I don't even know how to begin to disclaim this. I want to write missing scenes from Sid and Andy's POVs and would welcome requests. A fan mix for this whole series will be posted soon. Thanks for reading, guys.
Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six // Part Seven
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Molly has been envisioning her return to Los Angeles since she left last summer. This time she's come prepared: pre-tanned and dressed more carefully, though not too carefully, her hair close to perfect after a cut and dye job that would bring her mother to tears if she knew how much Molly paid for it. She's been working at Pizza Planet part time, and so far she likes it much better than school. There are older boys who are actually worth flirting with, and the paycheck, the spending power. She feels grown up as she steps off the plane, and she should. She'll be graduating from high school in just a little over a month.
Though her whole ribcage is electrified with excitement, she tries to look as bored as possible as she walks through the airport, a pair of designer sunglasses hiding most of her face. They were a gift from Sid last time she was here, and he wouldn't tell her how much he paid for them, but she looked it up online when she got home and make a frog-like sound of surprise that brought her mother into the room. She's vain about them, at least keeping them on top of her head whenever she can get away with it. She pushes them there when she sees Andy and Sid standing near the baggage carousels, and her attempt at being too cool to care about being at LAX is gone as soon as she meets her brother's eyes.
"I thought you were some movie star for a second," Andy says. Molly laughs and jumps into his arms. She reaches around him to pull Sid against Andy's back so she can hug them both at the same time. Sid is smirking, trying not to seem overly happy to see her.
"I have about a billion things I want to ask you," she says to Sid, shifting over to hug him more completely.
"It's not really that exciting," Sid says.
"Um, yes it is?"
"She's gonna flip out," Andy says, smiling at Sid. "Can I tell her?"
"Tell me what?" Molly is bouncing in her platform heels, being totally suburban, but she can tell by Andy's face that she's about to get some very good news. "Tell me what?"
"Seneca is having a party tomorrow night," Sid says. He shakes his head like he can't believe he's been lowered to caring about this. "I'll be there, doing security, whatever. She said you guys can come."
"Me, me and Andy?" Molly says. "We can come? To the party? Like, as regular people?" She's still bouncing, pulling at Sid's arm.
"As regular people, yeah," Andy says. "We don't have to dress up like caterers or anything."
Seneca Considine is the singer who hired Sid as her private bodyguard back in December, when she was impressed by the way he handled what she viewed as an attempt on her life at the nightclub where Sid was working. Sid claims that she exaggerated both the seriousness of the situation and his own impressiveness, and that her hiring of him was only part of playing the situation for all it was worth in the press. Seneca wasn't really a big deal before the 'Potentially Lethal Nightclub Attack,' which Sid says was only a drunk guy trying to grab Seneca's chest. Seneca seems to believe that he was going for her throat, obsessed and murderous, and the court case against her attacker is still pending. The news about the incident has mostly been forgotten, but Seneca's career has taken off in the aftermath. Molly hears her singles on the radio on a regular basis back home. She's not a particularly impressive singer - pretty standard Top 40 love songs - but the fact that she's opened the door for Sid to circulate among the rich and famous has made her the most fascinating person in pop culture, to Molly.
"I can't believe this, oh my God - what am I going to wear - who's going to be there?" Molly is aware of the ridiculous volume and pitch of her voice as she walks out of the airport, holding on to Sid's arm.
"No idea and no idea," Sid says. "Wear whatever you want, it's not fancy or anything, it's just at her house."
"At her house? Oh my God!"
"And I don't know who'll be there, but I'm sure they'll plenty of creepy ass coke head guys who'll be all over you within two seconds, so you're not even going to the bathroom without me or Andy to escort you, got it?"
"Anything, okay, anything!" Molly has to call Amanda, and Courtney, and Michele. They'll faint with envy. She gets out her phone with the intention of calling her mother first, then decides against it, imagining the questions that might get asked. Will there be alcohol at this party? What time will you be home? Can I speak to Andy about this, please?
L.A. is just as she remembers it: hazy and hot and fantastically loud. Sid is driving a car that is much nicer than Andy's old Corolla, and Molly knows it's suburban to be impressed with leather interiors, but she is. She sits up front, and Andy leans between their seats while Molly examines the features on the dash, pressing a button that opens the moon roof.
"Is your new apartment as nice as your new car?" Molly asks.
"No," Sid says. "But it's less of a dump."
"It's a scene," Andy says.
"A scene?"
"Sid can't take the garbage down without getting hit on." Andy doesn't look happy about this. He looks just like he did when he left home, with his collar shirt and khaki pants, the same haircut he had when he was in high school. Andy loves rocks, and old Western movies, and owned at least one John Mayer CD as a teenager. Molly never thought he'd be remotely cool until she saw him with Sid Phillips at Pizza Planet when she was ten years old, and even with Sid as his boyfriend, Andy has mostly remained a dork. Their mother once described living in L.A. as 'somewhat trying' for Andy, and Molly never really thought about what that meant until now.
The traffic is horrendous, but to Molly even this is glamorous: real L.A. traffic. She spends the car ride texting the news about the party to her friends and asking Sid all the questions she's saved up since she heard about his new job. Sid doesn't do Facebook or email and doesn't even really do the phone, so aside from a few scattered texts she hasn't talked to him since he and Andy came home for Christmas, which was just a week before Seneca came along and changed their lives.
"Is she like, totally a bitch in real life?" Molly asks.
"No," Sid says. "She's just kind of dumb."
"Dumb like how?"
"Dumb like someone who's never had to fend for herself."
"She was a child star," Andy says, like Molly doesn't know that.
"She was a Mousekateer," Molly says, and Sid snorts. She gives him a jab in the ribs, almost as excited to be here with him as she is about the prospect of a real celebrity party. Sid is kind of like a celebrity, to her. He's definitely the most exciting thing that's ever happened to anyone in her family.
"I bet this car can go really fast," Molly says.
"In a perfect world," Sid says. They're boxed into a sea of cars on the freeway, presently.
"Don't give him any ideas," Andy says.
"Do you have any new tattoos?" Molly asks, ignoring her brother.
"A couple," Sid says.
"Where?"
"On my back."
"What are they of?"
"Molly, take a breath!" Andy says. He's just jealous that she's not asking a billion questions about him. She looks at him in the rear view, pushing her sunglasses down over her eyes.
"So Mom told me that you're celebrating your graduation by going to more school," she says.
"I have to get my Master's," Andy says. "Everybody in my program does. You don't get an undergrad degree in geology and just stop. Plus, smart ass, you're doing the same thing."
"We'll see," Molly says.
"We'll see?" Andy sounds like her mother, as usual. "What are you talking about? Mom said you're going to Western."
"I got in, anyway," Molly says. "Not like it's hard." She looks over at Sid, expecting him to either tell her to appreciate this opportunity or smirk at her with shared academic disinterest. He's just driving, his eyes hidden behind his own pair of sunglasses, which are vintage aviators.
"You'll like college better than high school," Andy says. Molly affects a yawn and reaches for the radio.
"I bet the sound system's good," she says.
"It's decent," Sid says. Andy scoffs.
"It cost almost as much as the car," he says.
Molly puts the window down to peer at their new apartment building as they approach, driving past landscaped waterfalls and a security gate that opens with a code. She has fond memories of their last apartment, with its little porch full of potted plants and the kidney-shaped pool with palm fronds clogging up its vents, but this is place is definitely an upgrade. It's a proper high rise, closer to the coast, and Sid's car fits in among other nice ones that surely have leather seats and expensive sound systems.
"Damn, guys," Molly says.
"I knew you'd love this place," Andy says. "It's so corny."
"I'm corny, then?" Molly reaches back to hit him.
"No," Andy says, deflecting the attack. "You're just young."
"Oh, God. You're only four years older, Mom. What floor are you guys on?"
"The tenth," Sid says. "Race you up the stairs?"
"Not in these shoes!" Molly says. She beams at him, the distracted sort of crush she has on him re-solidifying. He was a runner in high school, too, sort of, and they have a recurring joke about racing each other. Molly hasn't lost yet.
Sid carries all the bags, and on the walk to the elevator they pass the sort of people Molly remembers from strolling Rodeo Drive last time she was here: their expressions of transcendent boredom put Molly's attempts to shame. It's a very different kind of boredom from what she's seen at home, not frustrated but achieved. She's texting this to Courtney as they ride up to the tenth floor, but Courtney isn't getting it.
"I bet the pool here is awesome," Molly says.
"It's crowded," Sid says.
"Who cares? Good! Can we go?"
"He only got like two hours of sleep before we had to come get you," Andy says.
"No, it's okay," Sid says. "I'm getting used to not sleeping."
"I guess you could use some sunlight," Andy says. He leans over to kiss Sid's shoulder, and Molly turns back to her iPhone. Her own first kiss came just a few months ago, embarrassingly belated and generally disappointing. She made Andy tell her about his first kiss with Sid once, and he got red-cheeked and flustered just talking about it. It started out as a dare, apparently. Her brother claims to know how lucky he is, but Molly is pretty sure he never could, not unless he went back and endured high school without a boyfriend.
The apartment is lovely, though underfurnished and cluttered with the artifacts of Sid and Andy's daily routines. There are empty energy drink bottles lined up on the counter in the kitchen, sweatshirts thrown over the back of the couch and shoes piled up behind it. Andy's geology lab work is spread across what might have otherwise been a dining room table, rock specimens laid out over newspaper. There's nothing hanging on the walls.
"You guys need a woman's touch in here," Molly says.
"Volunteering to clean up?" Sid says.
"Uh, no. Just saying."
She walks out onto the porch, glad to see Andy's plants still alive and well. The view is good, though she can't see the ocean, and the hot wind makes her feel like she's stepped into a movie. Andy follows her out onto the porch and gives her a hug from behind, which makes her forgive him, partially, for all the good luck he's had.
"It's like your lives are actually starting," Molly says. "It's so exciting."
"Yeah," Andy says. "Except, I don't know."
"Except what?"
"He's gone a lot." Andy turns to look at Sid, who is mixing drinks for them. "I don't want him to do this forever, this personal security stuff. It's been kind of hard."
Molly wants to ask what he means, but Sid is headed toward them with the drinks, which are fizzy and pinkish.
"We got this girly shit in your honor," Sid says, handing one to her. "Raspberry liquor and champagne."
"Don't tell Mom we let you drink," Andy says.
"Duh." She kisses her brother's cheek. He actually looks kind of sad and exhausted, though just subtly. "Thanks, guys. This is, like. Already the best week of my life."
They dress in swimsuits and head down to the pool after another round of drinks. Molly has only ever been allowed to have the rare glass of wine with dinner, though she once tried beer at a party. It was kind of like kissing: a lot of buildup to something that tasted funny and didn't alter her state of existence at all. This champagne cocktail, however, is wonderful, and the slight floaty feeling it has brought on is the perfect accent to arriving at the apartment complex's pool, which is on the roof, surrounded by planters with fat little palm trees and flowers that cascade down onto the deck. There's music playing, some kind of retro hotel lobby jazz, and the pool is crowded but not noisy, everybody either sunbathing or hunched over their phones, trying to see the screens in the glare from the sun. They find three chairs together and set out their towels, which are three ratty old bath towels, the only ones Sid and Andy own.
"Nobody's swimming," Molly says.
"They never swim," Andy says.
"I do sometimes," Sid says. "In the morning, if I'm not half dead after work."
"What are your work days like?" Molly asks.
"They're work nights, mostly," Andy says. "Though, yeah, I guess sometimes there are day jobs, too. It's kind of like. Twenty-four hours."
"That part of it sucks," Sid says. "I just show up wherever and whenever she calls me. But she's paying for it, so."
"All this money would be nice if we could actually use it to, you know, do stuff together," Andy says.
"It's not permanent," Sid says. He reaches over and touches Andy's knee. "I just need to get established. Then I can get a more regular gig."
"I know," Andy says.
"Aren't you going to take your shirt off?" Molly asks Sid, who laughs.
"Jesus, Molly," Andy says.
"What? I want to see the new tattoos!"
She was picturing a few small ones on his back, and she gasps when she sees the blue dragon that's now slithering across his spine, waves crashing around its slender body.
"I wasn't gonna get one this big, but this artist is really good," Sid says. "It's Leviathan."
"Who?" Molly asks, running her fingertips down over the dragon's shining scales.
"A sea monster from the Bible," Andy says. "He's one of the seven princes of hell."
"Holy crap," Molly says.
"I used to play this video game where you fought him," Sid says. "It's not a hell thing. Though 'the seven princes of hell' is kind of a rad concept."
"Sid says 'rad' now," Andy says when Molly smirks at him. "It's alarming, I know."
"Does he get it from Seneca?"
"No," Sid says.
"Yes," And says, and he laughs when Sid slides over to his chair to tackle him. Andy cringes into a position that's half defensive, half hug, his arms around Sid's shoulders as he squirms. Molly catches his ankle and gives it a tug.
"Let's throw him in the pool," she says.
"No way, I'll kill you!" Andy says. Apparently this constitutes a different sort of scene here in the land of rooftop pools, because people are looking up from their phones with disapproving stares, but Molly doesn't care. She's just glad to be here with them. It's been lonely at home, where her mother's lack of a boyfriend makes her own that much more hard to bear. Molly tries not to be at home on Friday or Saturday nights, the television and take out pizza routine too depressing, but she hates the thought of her mother going through that by herself.
"I think that girl is sneaking pictures of you with her phone," Molly says to Sid when they've all migrated into the pool, Andy treading water and Sid leaning against the wall with his arms stretched out.
"No, she's not," Sid says without looking.
"Actually, I think Molly is right," Andy says. He swims over to Sid and rests his chin on Sid's shoulder, staking his claim. Sid wraps his arm around Andy's waist and holds him there. It still makes Molly nervous, seeing them touch each other in public. Back home they would at least be gawked at.
"You're getting weird tan lines," Andy says, and he eases Sid's sunglasses up onto his head.
"I don't care about my tan lines," Sid says.
"But you have to, you're famous now." Andy kisses him on each cheek, then checks to see if the girl is still sneaking pictures.
"He gives me a hard time about this," Sid says, looking at Molly. "But they never even released my name, and nobody cares anymore."
"Just wait until the trial of this alleged murderous psychopath," Andy says. "Sid is going to have to testify. Then it'll all be a matter of public record. Cameras at the courthouse, of course - Seneca will make it into the biggest deal possible, free publicity."
"So what?" Molly says. "It'll turn out okay. Everything always turns out perfect for you, Andy."
"Oh, Christ!" He lets go of Sid and sinks a little, pretending to be overcome with hilarity. "Are you serious?"
"Um, yeah." She's not bitter or anything. She just wants to hear him say out loud that he won the luck lottery.
"You've got no idea," Andy says. "No idea how hard I worked on my grad school application, and that's only the start. This is one of the top programs in the country."
"Poor you," Molly says. She glances at Sid, but he's pretending not to pay attention, squinting up at the cloudless sky.
"I only mean to say it's going to be brutal," Andy says. "The workload, and the pressure, the competition, and - and, yeah, you just. You have no idea how hard it is to be an adult."
Molly doesn't want to fight, so she splashes him and swims backward, soaking her hair before thinking about how hard it will be to get it looking good again, now that it's been chlorinated. She closes her eyes and floats, the water filling her ears. She wants to move out here, to California, but she doesn't have a scholarship or the love of her life as an excuse. Andy had both. She doesn't want to think that it isn't fair, but it really just isn't.
On the way back down to the apartment, Seneca calls and asks Sid if he's free to escort her to a spa in thirty minutes. He says yes.
"He always says yes," Andy says.
"Maybe she'll burn out early today and let me have the night off," Sid says. "I told her my sister-in-law's in town."
"Sister-in-law?" Molly smacks her hand over her mouth. "Did you guys get married?"
"No, no," Andy says.
"That's just how I think of you," Sid says. He shrugs and hurries out of the elevator when the doors open. Molly glances at Andy, and he smirks.
Sid dresses for work without showering the chlorine smell off, but it actually goes well with the cologne that he sprays on himself. Seneca has requested that he wear it whenever he's working.
"I like it," Molly says, and it's true, it suits him, a kind of wood and leather smell.
"She picks out his clothes, too," Andy says. He's in the kitchen, making more champagne cocktails.
"She doesn't pick out my clothes," Sid says. "She just bought me a bunch of these shirts." He pulls on the hem of the one he's wearing, a simple gray t-shirt that looks finely made. "It's nice. They're good shirts."
"Well, here's to our wealthy benefactor," Andy says. He drinks from his glass of champagne. Sid looks at Molly and shakes his head.
"Don't let him get wasted," he says, and she laughs, but he looks kind of serious.
When Sid is gone, Andy and Molly lounge on the couch and finish off the last of the champagne, still wearing their swimsuits. They talk about their mother; Andy is worried about her, too, and Molly doesn't point out that worrying out her from the West coast isn't quite the same as finding her asleep at the kitchen table with her face pressed to one of her client's files. Because they've both been drinking, they also talk about their father.
"Mom told me he called the house," Andy says.
"Yeah." Molly pulls a section of her damp hair forward and holds it in front of her eyes, braiding it clumsily. "It's so stupid that I feel like I have to be nice to him."
"I know," Andy says. "But it was the same with me, last time I saw him. Jesus, what did he say?"
"Nothing much. How am I, blah blah. Am I going to college, where, what do I want to major in. I don't know why he bothers. He asked about you."
"Yeah?"
"I told him you were brilliant and successful and living out in California. I didn't say anything about Sid. I wasn't sure you'd want me to."
"No, yeah - I wouldn't." Andy looks down at the champagne glass, turning it in his hand so that it reflects the blazing late afternoon light in angry sunbursts. "Not that I'm ashamed or anything."
"Oh, I know -"
"I just - he doesn't know me. And he doesn't care to, not really. So he doesn't get to know what I really care about. Right?"
"Right." Molly leans over until her head is on Andy's shoulder, and they both watch the light show that the champagne glass is making. She closes her eyes for a moment, remembering when she can't wrench them open again that she got up at five o'clock this morning to catch her flight out here. She falls asleep, waking only partially when Andy extricates himself and drapes a fleece blanket over her. They've got the air conditioning blasting full force, and it feels good to huddle under the blanket, her wet hair hardening to a helmet as she sleeps.
She wakes up with a headache, and the apartment is quiet. Outside, the sun has just started to sink, the haze in the air taking on an orange glow that makes her think about how close they are to the desert. She goes to the fridge and pulls out a fat bottle of the kind of water she became addicted to last time she was out here: Fiji, outrageously expensive and just as delicious as she remembered. She peeks into the bedroom and sees Andy sprawled out on his stomach in bed, hugging a pillow. Her head is still a bit swimmy from the champagne, and her eyes get wet as she lingers in the bedroom doorway. She knows she shouldn't throw Andy's enviable fortune in his face; he deserves everything he has, everything good in the world.
She's missed five calls from her mother. She takes the Fiji bottle out onto the porch and listens to the calming sound of distant sirens before dialing.
"Finally!" her mother says. "I've been worried, you didn't call."
"I know, I'm sorry, I just got wrapped up. Mom."
"What?"
"Sid called me his sister-in-law! But they're not married. But oh my God. Did Andy tell you about the car? And the apartment, the pool on the roof? It's so awesome. I love it here."
"Yes, it's all very exciting," her mother says. "But I'm a little worried about, you know. The two of them getting involved in that world."
"That world?"
"With that singer lady, buying Sid all of these fancy things - I don't know. Andy is worried, too."
"Of course he is. That's what Andy does. But Mom, c'mon. This is so much better than where Sid was working before. And the hours are kind of weird, but it's temporary. He's just doing it until he can find a regular gig."
"I see. I just worry that this is not exactly a pathway to a 'regular gig.' Especially if he gets used to the kind of money she's paying him."
"Did Andy tell you how much?" Molly asks. She turns to check over her shoulder.
"No, and don't you dare ask them."
"I wasn't going to! Mom, you should come out here. Everything is, like. I don't know. It feels like things are happening here, you know?"
"Mhm. I've been to L.A., it's not really my town. I'll fly out there when they have a house. Or - did he really call you his sister in law?"
"Yes! I almost died. And Andy looked all moony afterward, too. So cute."
"Well, good. I mean - he seems okay? Your brother?"
"Of course! Mom, God. Don't worry about Andy. Sid takes awesome care of him. You should see this place."
"And Sid? He doesn't seem too changed, by this new lifestyle?"
"Not at all! He's the same as ever. Actually, he seems calmer, like, happier. Oh, and he has a new tattoo. This crazy water demon thing. That sounds bad, but it's really awesome. It reminds me of those Japanese mafia tattoos."
"I'm not familiar with those. Molly?"
"Yeah?"
"If you come back with a tattoo -"
"Mom! No way! I wouldn't!" She hadn't considered it, but it's not a bad idea.
She hangs up with her mother and stays out on the porch while the sun goes down, texting and browsing Facebook, mostly looking at Andy's page, his pictures of Sid. Where is her tough-looking but tenderhearted boy who will dare her to kiss him? Seventeen years is too long to have to wait for such a thing.
Andy doesn't wake up until the sun is almost completely gone, a few very bright stars appearing over the city. He walks out onto the porch and finishes off the water while Molly texts Courtney to say she has to go, her evening is beginning.
"When's Sid getting home?" Molly asks. Andy shakes his head.
"She took him to some restaurant," he says. "Then they'll go to a bar. Who knows. He'll be back late, he always is."
"So we can have sibling bonding time!"
"Yeah."
Molly tries not to show her disappointment as they primp for dinner, sharing the bathroom mirror. Andy shaves while Molly dries her hair, and she wonders if Sid is having fun or miserably watching the clock. She wants to talk about him, to ask Andy what he meant before about things being hard, but she doesn't want his mood to get any gloomier, so she hums under her breath instead.
They take Andy's old Corolla to a restaurant in town, and it looks ridiculous in the hands of the crisply dressed valet. At the hostess stand, Andy tells the four beautiful girls who attend it that his reservation has been downgraded from three to two. The hostesses make no comment about the change. The girl who will take them to their table simply replaces one of the menus she had collected before leading them through the dark, noisy dining room.
"This place is awesome!" Molly says when they're seated at a tiny table in an alcove near the back. The decor is a mix between a retro tropical-themed pool deck and a modern nightclub, palm leaves backlit with red lights.
"It's okay," Andy says. "I forgot how loud it gets in here." They have to shout across the table to hear each other over the music and chatter from other tables.
"It's cool," Molly says. "Better than Chili's or Pizza Planet." Actually, she wouldn't mind being there instead if it meant Sid could be with them. She looks down at the menu. "No prices?"
"If you have to ask." Andy shrugs. "Get whatever you want. Sid gave me money before he left. I guess he knew he wouldn't be able to come."
"Let's get fancy drinks," Molly says, not wanting to linger on that subject. "They have organic cocktails with fresh fruit." She's mostly kidding, expecting Andy to remind her that she's underage and will be carded, but he just nods, and the waitress doesn't even look up with Molly asks for a guava-orange martini. Andy orders beer.
"So tell me about your rocks," Molly says when the conversation lags.
"You don't want to hear about that."
"Yes, I do! Those ones all over the table? What's going on there?"
"Just - it's a project I'm doing. Let's talk about you going to college. You have to, okay?"
"I have to?" She's not in the mood for this conversation, either. "I don't have to do anything. I'll be eighteen in two months."
"Molly." Andy rubs his fingers over his eyes. "You know what I mean."
"Why can't I just work in a flower shop or something?" she says. "I'd like that. Doing the arrangements. I'd be good at that."
"A flower shop? I don't know, fine, but you should still give college a chance. In case the flower shops aren't hiring."
"There's got to be one hiring somewhere. I can live anywhere I want. I could even move to another country." She says this without conviction. Her mother has promised to help her pay for college, but if she decides not to go, she's on her own.
"You're being silly," Andy says. "You should live with mom for the first few years, save some money."
"Don't give me money advice."
"Huh? Why not?"
Molly raises her eyebrows, and Andy scowls.
"If it were up to me we'd be saving every dime he's making," Andy says. "But it's not my money and I can't tell him what to do."
"Um, duh, and how can you be so negative about this?" Molly says. "That car is, like. A good investment."
"Nothing depreciates faster than the value of a car. And we're throwing away money on rent at that place -" He rubs his hand over his eyes again. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, I don't want to talk about college."
"Great!" Andy gulps the last of his beer. "Talk about something else, then. And don't pretend you want to hear about rocks."
"I wish Sid was here," Molly says, drumming her fingers on the table.
"Yeah, no kidding," Andy mutters.
They're both quiet for the rest of the meal, Molly pushing decorative greens that look like the clovers around on her plate. Her fish is good, and Andy's duck is 'fine,' according to him. Molly switches to water after finishing her martini, and Andy has another beer.
"Look," he says when they're waiting for the valet to bring the car around. "I know you don't want to hear this, and, believe me, this is my least favorite position to be in, advice-wise, but I really think you'll regret it if you don't go to college."
"Why are you so worried about this?" Molly asks.
"Because I love you!"
"Do you still fight about this with Sid?" she asks, beginning to realize why it's bothering him so much. "The GED thing?"
"Hell no," Andy says. "I gave up that ghost as soon as moneybags came along and bought him nice shirts."
Back at the apartment, Sid is still not home, and Molly doesn't again ask when he will be. Andy changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt and checks his phone obsessively while they watch Back to the Future on TV.
"What time is the party tomorrow?" Molly asks.
"I don't know," Andy says, thumbing something into his phone. "Night time?"
"Ask Sid, okay? Is that who you're talking to?"
"Uh huh. We mostly talk on these things lately. It's like a long distance relationship."
"Quit complaining and ask him my question. I need to get my hair done, and shop, and all that."
"Oh, boy. He says the party is at six. That's weird. Seems kind of early for this sort of thing."
"As if you go to Hollywood parties all the time," Molly says.
"Only vicariously," Andy says.
When the movie ends, Andy takes his phone to bed and shuts the door behind him. Molly lies on the couch in the dark and watches the ceiling, unable to sleep. She's sure Andy is awake, too, texting with Sid or maybe just moping. Before she's finally able to sleep, a sense of dread overtakes her, and she wonders if they have to go to the party tomorrow or not, which is ridiculous, because of course she wants to, why wouldn't she? Whether or not she and Andy go, Sid will have to, so at least they'll all get to be together.
She wakes up to unfamiliar noises and panics for a moment when she doesn't know where she is. Recovering from the shock of waking on a couch that smells vaguely of spilled beer, she sits up and looks into the kitchen. It must be close to dawn, enough bluish light coming in through the windows that she can see Sid drinking from a huge bottle of Gatorade.
"Hey," he says. "Sorry. I didn't want to wake you up."
"What time is it?" Molly asks. She tries to put her hair in order, but it's hopeless, and she flushes when she thinks of how she must look right now.
"I don't know, five?" Sid says.
"And you're just getting back?"
"Yeah." He puts the Gatorade away and walks into the living area. "She always fucking does this to me. Can I come for a few hours? Sure. Then the day, you know. Progresses."
"Dang. You worked like -" She counts the hours on her fingers. "Fifteen hours?"
"I know. I'm dead on my fucking feet. Two hundred bucks an hour, though. Can't say no to that."
"Two - are you serious?" Fifteen times two is thirty, plus two zeroes. "Oh my God!"
"Yeah. Here." He digs out his wallet and hands her a stack of hundred dollar bills. "Andy said you want to go shopping."
"Sid! I can't - holy - this is like a thousand dollars!"
"Shit is expensive in L.A. I'm gonna go to bed for awhile. Sorry I woke you."
He leaves her sitting there with her mouth hanging open and her hands full of money. She blinks down at the bills, feeling as if she's in a dream. When she looks up Sid is closing the bedroom door quietly behind him.
Unable to get back to sleep, she tucks the money into her purse and heads for the shower. Something about what just transpired bothers her, and she can't put her finger on what. She tells herself she'll feel better later, when she's at Seneca's house, glimpsing the behind the scenes elements of Sid's job. Andy says Seneca just wants to pay people to hang out with her, that she likes having Sid around not because she thinks her life is in danger but for the same reasons Andy always wants him near.
"You think she wants him?" Molly had asked when they talked about this on the phone a few weeks before her trip.
"I know she does," Andy said. "But it's not like I'm worried."
"Yeah. 'Cause he's gay. And totally devoted to you."
"Exactly," he said. He'd sounded worried, but Molly thought he was just being paranoid. Now - the cologne, the shirts - but it doesn't matter, because Sid would never be taken in by someone like Seneca, no matter how much cash she threw at him.
Sid is still asleep when Andy emerges for breakfast. He doesn't look very well-rested, and he's silent over his bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats.
"Want to come shopping with me?" Molly asks.
"I have to work on my project," Andy says, nodding to the rocks. "Sid can take you. He actually has the day off. I guess Seneca has to sleep sometime."
"What all did they do last night?"
"Nothing. They never do anything. They hang out with the rest of her entourage - bars, clubs, rich people's houses. He gets so bored."
"I bet," Molly says, and Andy gives her a look like she expressed doubt over this.
"He's not a people person," Andy says. "Not those kind of people anyway."
"I can't wait to meet them," Molly says. "I bet they're super hilarious."
"Yeah," Andy says, and he puts his face back in his cereal bowl.
After breakfast, Molly kills time on Andy's laptop while he works with his rocks. She glances up at him occasionally, trying to figure out what he's doing. He explained it as 'measuring simulated seismic activity in a variety of commercial grade concretes' which means exactly nothing to her. When Sid comes out of their bedroom he's wearing jeans and a t-shirt that does not look expensive, just thin white cotton. He stands over Andy for awhile, watching him scrape dust from one of the concrete chunks onto a slide.
"You only slept five hours," Andy says.
"I'll drink a Red Bull." Sid says. He bends down and kisses the top of Andy's head. Andy keeps working, his eyes narrowed and his forehead creased.
"Ready for shopping?" Molly asks when Sid walks over to her.
"What now?" Sid says, and Andy laughs.
"I said you'd take her. I'm too busy, especially if this party starts at six."
"It'll be fun," Molly says, tugging on Sid's wrist. "We can get our nails done and everything."
"You think that's funny?" Sid holds up his hands to show her his perfect cuticles. "She makes me do it once a week. Fucking humiliating."
"Okay, so we'll skip the nails," Molly says, actually kind of horrified by that mental image. "Will you take me to the tar pits instead?"
"Sure, fine." Sid looks at Andy. "You really can't come?"
"I really can't," Andy says. He still won't look up from his work. Sid stares at him for awhile before turning back to Molly.
"Let's do this," he says.
Out in the city, the day is the same as the one before: uncomfortably bright between the cement and the sky, stuffy with heat even with the wind kicking up the dust. Molly has her hair done first, just a blow out, but it costs a hundred dollars after tip. Sid is reading a magazine when she reenters the salon's lobby, and he's found a toothpick somewhere. He chews on it, flips it over with his tongue, and chews on it again. He looks up at Molly when her shadow falls over him, and she does a twirl to show off her hair's new bounciness.
"Will I fit in?" she asks. "With this hair?"
"Jesus, don't worry about that," Sid says, standing. "You'll be the youngest person there. In this town, that means you win."
They shop for clothes next, and Molly makes Sid pick something out for himself. He groans through the whole thing, but allows her to use some of the money he gave her to buy him a black button-up shirt that suits him. Molly gets a long skirt that makes her think of fortune tellers at carnivals, but in a good way. She tops it off with a tiny white t-shirt that costs eighty-eight dollars. It feels marvelous against her skin, like all along she only thought she was wearing t-shirts, but this is the real thing. A pair of new platforms and a clutch purse later, the money is almost gone.
"I could live here," she says as they walk past the tar pits, her new purchases secure in the trunk of Sid's car. "It's just - the air feels different, you know?"
"Yeah, full of grime," Sid says. "But I know what you mean. This place, I don't know. I feel sane here."
"Right! Everything that happened with Seneca, and how well you're doing now, it's like it was meant to be."
He says nothing, stoic behind his sunglasses, and they walk on, past school groups and tourists with cameras. Molly thinks of taking pictures with her phone, but the tar pits aren't really that photogenic. She takes her phone out anyway, to check the time. Just three hours until the party.
"So Andy seems kind of stressed," she says.
"I told him he should take the summer off instead of starting his grad courses right away," Sid says.
"You think he will?"
"Hell no. And I guess he'd get bored, with me working so much."
"Hmm, yeah. How much longer do you think you're going to do this, with Seneca?"
She doesn't expect him to answer right away, but she can barely get the question out before he speaks.
"I just want to save fifty thousand dollars," he says. "Can I show you something?"
"Um, sure."
They head to the car, and Molly thinks of asking where they're going, but as they pull away from the heat and clutter of the city she gets the feeling that Sid wants her to wait and see. The quiet between them and the cold blast of the air conditioning is so cozy that Molly wonders if this is what being driven around by a father feels like. About twenty minutes outside of town, they're in rolling hills where the air again feels different, lightened by the scent of the ocean and the desert.
"It's this one right here," Sid says, and Molly has guessed what they're looking at by the time they pull up to a retro ranch house with a very neatly kept yard and a FOR SALE sign by the mailbox.
"It's been on the market for like a year," Sid says. He parks the car by the curb and gets out, throwing his sunglasses onto the driver's seat. "It's got a pool," he says as Molly follows him toward the house, which looks like it was built in the sixties, bright olive green with little diamond-shaped windows in the front door.
"A really small pool," Sid says, "But still, a pool. And houses are real cheap right now, you know, like, it's a buyer's market. There's three bedrooms, so he could have an office and I could have a gym, and we'd put futons in them so you and your mom could have your own rooms if you came to visit. And I only need like three more months of saving and I can get it, and Andy doesn't know, and I'm not gonna buy it without asking him but I still don't want to bring him out here to see it until I have all the money, so don't tell him, okay? What? What's wrong?"
Molly laughs so she won't start crying. She flings her arms around his shoulders and hugs him hard, her heart pounding like she's the one who just got surprised with a house. He hugs her back before setting her down, his cheeks going pink.
"I moved us into that apartment 'cause I thought he would like it," Sid says. "But it was stupid, that place is a joke. This is, like. This is somewhere he'd want to live."
"It is," Molly says. She turns to the house and clasps her hands under her chin, imagining Andy opening the front door to collect the newspaper, Sid mowing the lawn. "Can we look in the windows?"
The house has a stone fireplace and a stainless steel appliances that look new. The pool is tiny but adorable, kidney-shaped like the one at their old complex, shards of palm fronds floating in the shallow end. The yard itself is large and fenced in, and Sid narrates its details obsessively as they peer over the fence.
"See where that kind of rock garden thing is? We could do a pond there. And I think that's an avocado tree. And those over there are yucca plants. We could plant that lemon tree we have over there, and then maybe if I save some extra money we could get an in-ground jacuzzi put in. I have this friend who I used to work with at the club, his day job is installing pools. He'd give us a good price."
"It's perfect," Molly says. She kisses Sid's cheek. "Perfect, he'll love it."
Sid talks about the neighborhood on the ride back into the city, how the commute to UCLA wouldn't be too bad, and how he hopes to find work as a personal trainer after Seneca. Molly is so excited on her brother's behalf that she can't stop tugging at her seat belt and tapping her heels against the passenger side floor mat.
"You guys are going to be so happy," she says, in awe of how true this feels.
"Don't jinx it," Sid says, but he's smiling. "I've still got to get through three more months of this personal security shit if I have any hope of making the down payment. And that trial, goddamn. Andy's right, that'll suck."
"You'll be fine," Molly says. "Seneca loves you, right? She'll take care of you."
"Loving something and taking care of it are two different things."
"You sound like a fortune cookie. Relax! Everything's gonna work out."
Part one, continued