HOLLYWOODLAND HOLLYWOODLAND an american fairy tale JENNIFER BANASH Impetus Press PO Box 10025 Iowa City, IA 52240 www.impetuspress.com
[email protected] Publisher Note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. ISBN 0-9776693-0-0 September 2006 Copyright © 2006 Impetus Press. All rights reserved. for my father I’m going to be in the movies if I have to fuck Bela Lugosi to get there. Actresses are a little like race horses. It’s difficult for us when the race is cancelled. This is an attempt at the ultimate motion picture. ••• 2:00 AM, 82 ° She is in her car when it happens, the black roads around Mulholland winding and twisting, unrolling like the soft dark fabric of a magic carpet. Her eyes blur and she squints them repeatedly, leaning forward to see. The needle on the speedometer flies up past eighty, then ninety, the tendons in her right arm straining, muscles burning as she grips the wheel one-handed. Sierra loves to drive more than anything, the feeling of weightlessness, careening through the air, unstoppable. She was fucking unstoppable. She could feel the kid in the seat next to her getting nervous, moving back and forth in his seat, one hand clutching the belt that cut across his skinny frame. His jeans make a harsh scraping sound. The rasp of denim on leather annoys her, and she closes her eyes.