The Game

Project Hollywood
    AUTHOR: Sickboy

    For those who don’t know, I’ve been sleeping in Papa’s closet at Project Hollywood. Today was the best day I’ve ever had here, despite all the crazy drama that has been going on.
    I woke up earlier than usual and went surfing in Malibu with Style and his girlfriend, who is really an amazing person. Seeing how cool they get along is really inspiring. He’s one of the few people I’ve met in the game who has something great to show for all the effort he’s put into it.
    The surfing was amazing. I was so happy to go because I haven’t gone yet this summer. I recommend taking up the sport to anyone who’s never tried it. As soon as you hit the water, your mind clears and it’s almost impossible to think of anything else. It’s truly a relaxing experience.
    Afterward, we ate at a fish stand right at the edge of the Pacific Ocean and had a great conversation about music, friends, traveling, life, and careers.
    When I returned to the house, I did some work. Then I watched The Last Dragon with Playboy, whom I’ve become good friends with. During the movie, Herbal and Mystery talked outside and settled their differences. Though Mystery’s still upset at Katya, he said he wouldn’t hold it against Herbal for falling in love with her. And Herbal said that if Mystery paid for the damages to his room, he’d forgive Mystery for his behavior. Thank God. It’s good to see this thing ended in a sane way. Mystery will be moving out of the house tomorrow anyway, which I think is a shame.
    At about 2:00 A.M., Playboy, Mystery, and I sat in the main room smoking a hookah, listening to music, and talking about our goals in life.
    I didn’t have a single conversation today about sarging, pickup, or the community. My day was filled with real conversations with real friends. I didn’t need to fuck some L.A. bimbo from the Saddle Ranch for validation. In fact, I didn’t do a single set all day.
    These are the days that make life worth living. These are also the days that I will miss when I move out of Project Hollywood.

    —Sickboy

I sat uselessly in the living room and watched Mystery pack the last of his possessions: the platform boots, the ridiculous peacocking hats, the pinstriped suits he no longer wore, the lunch box with his picture emblazoned on the front, the hard drives filled with lesbian porn and episodes of That ‘70s Show.
    I couldn’t help feeling that maybe we’d made the wrong decision.
    “So where are you going?” I asked.
    “I’m moving to Las Vegas. I’m going to start Project Vegas. I’ve learned from my mistakes here, and Project Vegas will be bigger and better. There are hotter women in Vegas, and great opportunities for doing casino magic. I’m going to fly my brother-in-law to Vegas to record his songs, with me singing. Imagine”—he ran his hand along the air as if reading a line of type—“the world’s greatest pickup artist releases an album of love songs. Who wouldn’t buy that?” Mystery’s manic sense of possibility was back. “Ania will be living with me there. And, since you’re my best friend, once I get it set up, I’d like you to join me. We’ll build it right this time. We will be in charge, and we’ll carefully screen everyone we move into the house.”
    “I’m sorry, man.” I couldn’t just follow him around every time he fucked things up for himself.
    “It’ll be Mystery and Style, just like the old days,” he persisted. He opened the front door of the house and carried a suitcase onto the landing as he delivered one of the many great aphorisms that he used to turn defeat into triumph. “Where there’s a problem, there’s an opportunity.”
    “I can’t go through this again.” The words, apologetic, came out accusatory.
    “I understand,” he said. “Sometimes events turn sour, and we follow bad threads in our lives. I want you to know that, even though we haven’t seen eye to eye lately, I will always be your friend, for life and a day. You don’t have to manage your relationship with me. Enjoy your girlfriend, and we will always have time to hang out together. You are the most important man in my life.”
    My face swelled and my eyes tingled with the first flush of tears.
    “Try not to queer that up, okay?” he smiled weakly, choking back emotion himself.
    A cab pulled into the driveway and honked, and Mystery slammed the door shut on Project Hollywood. The blank whiteness of the door wavered in the