AN: This week would have marked my Angela's 40th birthday. I've been lucky enough in the last few months to get some much-needed closure. But Hollywood Drive, the fictional events and not non-fictional ones, never would have happened without that fateful meeting and our subsequent falling out. I would encourage you to make sure that those people that are most important to you, know how you feel. I love you all.

**Hollywood Drive**

"Angela! We have got to get a move on if we want to beat traffic." I'm standing in my best friend's living room, yelling down the hall to get her ass in gear. I'm rechecking one of the Target bags full of snacks when she comes rushing out of her room with a curling iron in one hand and caboodle in the other. "You still have a caboodle?"

"What? I want to look my best." She hoists the box up, and I can hear various makeup tools and palettes rattling around inside. "Let's go!"

Angela and I have a big trip planned for this weekend; our favorite singer from England is pushing a new album in the States, and he's doing a radio tour to promote it. He's going to be in California for three shows in three days, and we're going to be at all of them. We're heading up to Sacramento tonight where we have a hotel near the radio station. Tomorrow, before he arrives, we're going down there to try and plead our way in.

The next day will take us to San Francisco bright and early in the morning to make the Ryan Seacrest Show, and then the last day will be back in our hometown of San Diego. We already know that our local station won't let us in without a ticket. They started some bogus point system where you can get 100 points every hour, but between school and work, I can't always listen to the radio. Both Angela and I are severely lacking in enough points to get tickets, and even though the afternoon DJ now knows us by name because we've been requesting his latest single every day, she won't help us.

Angela loads her bags into my trunk as I go over the MapQuest directions before handing them to her when she climbs into the passenger seat. I ask if she's ready, and she gives me an excited squeal.

"I know this is crazy, Bella. But I'm so excited we're doing this!"

I laugh as I back out of her driveway, and we hit the road.


The Sacramento show isn't until seven in the evening, but we've been outside the radio station since three, trying to convince the DJ to let us in. They've been taking calls from listeners who are coming, and some people have been calling in to plead our case. We have posters. We're decked out in gear, and we are … enthusiastic. Finally, around five p.m., the receptionist comes out and invites us into the lobby but warns us to be cool.

The DJ, Laurent, comes down a set of stairs and starts laughing when he sees our signs. "I guess you two really are big fans. Did you really drive up here from San Diego?"

As we explain our situation, I can see the gears turning in his head until he nods, cutting Angela off mid-sentence. "Follow me." He leads us to the receptionist's desk, signs us in for the show, and hands us two tickets. "Twenty minutes; lose the signs. Have fun, ladies."

Angela surprises him with a quick hug, and once she releases him, I thank him, shaking his hand. "Thank you so much. We'll put our stuff away."

My best friend is practically vibrating with excitement as we walk out to deposit our signs in my car. When I turn to her, she has tears in her eyes. "Bella, this is it."She grabs me and hugs me hard.

I'm excited and I'm so grateful, but something is off. I know Angela thinks this is the moment that she's dreamed of, but I know it isn't. We pull apart, and she touches up her makeup, and I spritz myself with body spray before we make our way back to the area they have set up for the mini concert.

Since we're there so early, we get to pick where we want to sit, and we pick a table right up front by the stage. I go and get us some finger food while we wait and more people fill in the available space. Shockingly or not, not every seat is filled. Part of me is sad to see this, but another part of me is thinking that I'm about to be a part of something really special.

After several minutes, the station manager comes out to give us some ground rules. When he mentions that we're not allowed to take pictures while Edward Cullen is performing, there are a few boos from somewhere in the crowd, but Angela and I share a whisper. "He's said he doesn't like the flash in small crowds."

Laurent comes out to hype up the crowd, and frankly, he needs to. I don't know who got these tickets, but they can't possibly be fans. No one else here seems to be excited to see this small, intimate concert, and I'm disappointed by that. But, by the time he introduces Edward Cullen and his small band, the crowd is cheering, and Angela and I are almost in tears in the very front.

"Eh, hello, everyone. I'm Edward Cullen." He smiles, and there's more cheering, mostly from the two of us, and he laughs. "I just want to thank you all for the warm reception. I've been living in Los Angeles for the past year, and I really feel at home in California."

His guitar player strums, and Edward smiles again. "Should we sing a song?"

He breaks into the latest single, which, to be fair, isn't my favorite, but it's catchy, and by the final chorus, everyone is singing along. Effortlessly moving into another new one off the album, I sing this one with all my heart. I've been listening to the album on his website for at least two weeks now, and I'm obsessed with this song in particular. I hope it becomes a single.

Edward grabs a stool to sit down. "I heard we had some people from out of town. Who drove the farthest to be here?"

Angela and I look around before I raise my hand a little timidly. "We're from San Diego."

"Darling, I'm going to be there in two days!"

"We know! They won't give us tickets!" Angela says, and the crowd laughs.

"Thank you so much for coming all the way here. It truly means the world to me." He steps off his stool and the stage to shake our hands, and I see Angela swoon. By the time the short concert is over and Edward Cullen disappears, I'm exhausted. So much adrenaline has been coursing through me that I could drop at any moment.

We're ushered out, but we talk to a few other true fans, and they marvel at the fact that we drove all the way up here. "We're planning to go to San Francisco tomorrow for Ryan Seacrest," I tell them as we walk to our cars, and they decide right then and there to meet up with us there. After exchanging phone numbers, we climb into my car and head back to the hotel.

Angela is on cloud nine, and I think she may stay there. We splurge and order room service before it gets too late and try to get some sleep.


Angela is the worst to try to wake up in the morning. I mean, like, don't even try to touch her or talk to her until she's fully upright. Her alarm has been going off for at least an hour, and I'm just about ready to go. If we don't leave soon, we're going to hit morning rush hour, and we'll be screwed.

I take the chance and touch one of her feet that's sticking out from under her covers. "Angela, we need to get up and go."

She jerks up and looks around, confused for a moment, before her eyes land on the clock. "What the hell, Bella? You let me oversleep!" She jumps out of bed and rushes around to get ready, and I've never been more thankful that she takes her showers in the evening, even if they last almost two hours.

She's surprisingly ready in less than ten minutes, and we're in my car and on the road. I already know we aren't going to make it. I just know it. So, when I see a Starbucks, I pull into the drive thru to get us coffee. Angela complains for about thirty seconds, but when I order her favorite Frappuccino, she shuts up quickly.

I do my best to navigate us quickly and safely to San Francisco and the radio station, but between morning traffic and road construction, I glance at Angela and she realizes that we won't make it.

"Find a safe place to pull over, Bella. Like a rideshare area or something," she tells me softly, and knowing my best friend, she's kicking herself. I find a spot just off the freeway in a small industrial area, and we park, turning the radio up.

Neither of us care for Ryan Seacrest, but we'll gladly listen to his inane banter if it means we get to hear Edward talk. He's not singing live today, but they'll be playing excerpts from the album. The interview is actually quite nice, and Edward sounds comfortable the entire time; that makes us happy. The girls we met last night call during a commercial break in the middle and ask if we made it.

"We missed it because of traffic. Are you there?" I ask, having them on speaker.

"No, we couldn't get out of work! Are you coming back to Sac today? Do you want to get dinner?"

We make plans to meet up, and hang up as the show comes back on.

"Edward, you've struggled a lot over the years with drug and alcohol abuse, but you're clean now. Aside from keeping your career successful, what are you most looking forward to?" Angela and I share a look. Edward doesn't typically answer questions like this.

"Career is number one, but none of this means anything without someone to share it with, right?"

Ryan laughs. "That's beautiful, man. Hey, I hear you had some fans show up to another radio station last night from way out of town? What happened with that?"

"Oh, yeah! A couple of girls had driven up from San Diego to Sacramento last night. It was wild. I've been playing the album on my website for a few weeks now, and they knew every song."

"That must be very gratifying for you."

"Oh, it's the best."

After some initial squealing on our part, Angela starts rambling on about how since the line of questioning went from what Edward wants for his future to him mentioning us that it means they're destined to be together.

"Ang, I think it just means that Ryan Seacrest has a list of questions, that's all." I put the car back into drive as the interview wraps up and find my way back to the freeway.

"No, you'll see, Bella," Angela tells me as she leans against the headrest and stares out the window.


We got up at the ungodly hour of one a.m. to get our stuff together and get out of the hotel. We needed to get back to San Diego to get to the radio station before Edward Cullen did. This was our last chance for an opportunity to meet him.

By the time we got to the station, some people were waiting for him to arrive as well, and we made friends quickly. We called into the station but were warned off by the DJ that we wouldn't be let in and told to stay on the opposite side of the street.

Angela and I were starting to feel a bit discouraged when we saw a white passenger van come rolling down the street and pulled up at the gate to the radio station's parking lot. Angela and I were holding a sign to mimic the MasterCard commercials:

Round Trip to San Francisco in 3 days: 1062 miles

Hours of sleep: 12

Chance to meet Edward: Priceless

I watch, in somewhat horror and fascination, as the side door of the van opens and a burly security guard steps out, followed by Edward Cullen. He's wearing a faded Guns 'N Roses shirt and jeans. He waves at the twenty or so people waiting outside for him, and then beckons to me and Angela.

We're rooted to the spot we're in, unable to move until the security guard comes over to us directly and invites us to join Edward. We follow him and shake hands with Edward, who doesn't say anything other than hello as we follow the van through the gate. He's greeted by the station manager and the DJ who had denied us entrance, and I can't help but feel more than a little smug when she realizes that we're with him, and she's leading us all into a green room.

Edward Cullen has a song lyric from his new album, "you can't manufacture a miracle, the silence was pitiful, that day", that's the only way I can describe those first few moments in that room with my best friend and the very object of our affection.

I start laughing after I've sung the lyric to myself, and Angela elbows me in the ribs, warning me to keep the crazy to myself. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking about one of your lyrics. It really fits right now."

"Which one?" His smile lights up his face, and when I tell him, he laughs with me. "It does; I'm sorry. It's nice to meet you both." He shakes our hands again as we introduce ourselves. His current manager, a man named Frank, asks if we have anything for him to sign, and of course, our purses are filled with CDs, DVDs, and all sorts of memorabilia that he willingly signs as we snap pictures.

Someone from the station is taking pictures, and as Edward hands back my CDs, I ask him a burning question. "I'm sorry if this is over the line, but how's your mother doing?"

He pauses mid conversation with his manager to turn his full attention back on me. "She's doing really well. She's got a lot of therapy to get through, but her doctors think she'll make a full recovery." He's grasping one of my hands with his other hand over his heart. "It's been hard leaving her right now, but thank you for asking. You're the first person to ask. That means a lot."

I wipe at a tear and smile. "I'm not super close with my parents, but I know you and your mom are, so"—I pull a card out of my purse and hand it to him. "It's just a get well card. It's not a big deal, but could you give it to her?"

He takes it with a promise that she'll get it, and we both take a deep breath before he makes a joke about it being too heavy in the room. Frank tells him that the contest winners are here, and he needs to go greet them, so he's whisked away, and Angela and I are left in the room alone.

"Way to make me look like a jerk, Bella!" Angela huffs, plopping down on the small couch and crossing her arms.

"What are you talking about?"

"You got a card for his mother? What are you trying to do?" She actually sneers at me, and if she wasn't my best friend, I feel like I could slap her silly for acting like this.

Crouching down in front of her, I sigh. "Ang, if he singles you out for anything, it's just going to be a one time thing. I'm not trying to do anything. I even signed your name on the card. Calm down." I push up, moving to the other side of the room and sigh. "It's been a really long few days. Maybe when we're done here, we need to take a break for a few days."

"I'm sorry. You're right; emotions are running high right now." She smiles softly, but it doesn't reach her eyes.

A few minutes later, Edward comes back in, and Frank tells us that we have about thirty minutes before the interview. "You two are going to join us in the studio," he tells us, and I know my eyes go wide as I look to Edward for confirmation.

"Right now, you're my guests. So, you'll come in with us and stand with Frank," Edward winks, and then proceeds to be the biggest rock star and asks which of his albums is our favorite.

Angela and I have very different tastes; she goes more for strict pop, and I'm more eclectic. When Angela names her album, Edward wrinkles his nose a little, and I laugh to myself knowing full well that album was pushed by the record company. When I say it's a tie between the standards album he did and the new one, he laughs.

"You like the classics, huh?"

"I grew up listening to whatever my parents or grandparents listened to, so Frank Sinatra was definitely a part of my upbringing. And track six on the new album—"

"That's not on the US version," he says slowly.

"I know; I have both. I saw the liner notes. You wrote the entire thing. It's something special." I'm sincere. It's not the strongest song, and I know it'll never be a single, or even a B-side, but it's good.

He starts to sing a few bars, and when I jump in to harmonize with him, he grabs my hands and pulls me closer. We sing through the chorus, and he sighs as we finish. "You have a lovely voice, Bella." His eyes sparkle, and I feel something in the pit of my stomach.

I don't know what it is, but this moment is going to stay with me forever.

We join him in the studio for the interview, me singing along when he does, and the DJ even commenting that he has a new backup singer. I blush, but every time he starts a new song, he winks in my direction and encourages me to sing along with him. I don't know if the mics are picking me up from across the room, but I'm equally embarrassed and emboldened at the same time.

By the time the afternoon is over and he's saying his goodbyes, I'm wishing Angela wasn't here. She's been a little sulky since we sang in the green room together. She can't carry a note in a bucket, and she knows it. Edward hugs her, telling her how delightful it was to meet her, and takes one last picture with her.

When he steps up to me, the energy is different, and I know everyone can sense it. "Bella, thank you for today." He's so quiet as he speaks to me, and I know if I say anything other than thanking him, I'll burst into tears.

"Thank you. Today meant everything to me, to us." I nod to Angela, and he smiles.

He wraps me in a gentle hug and whispers something, but just at that moment, a car drives past the parking lot that we're standing in and backfires, so I miss what he's saying. When he pulls away, he smiles one more time and walks to the van. Frank comes over and shakes my hand and asks me for my number, but when I see Angela standing a few feet away looking sad, I decline. I don't know for sure why he was asking, but whatever the reason, my friend is more important.

"I had an incredible day. I don't want to tarnish it," I tell him and shake his hand. "Thank you so much for giving us this opportunity. We'll never forget it." He gives me a knowing smile, and I grab Angela and drag her to my car.

We watch as the van drives out of sight before climbing into my car and driving her home. It's been a long few days, so when I drop her off, she's quiet as she gets her stuff. I roll my window down, calling out to her. 'I'll call you in a few days. Today was a great day, Ang."

"Yeah, I think maybe we should take that break, Bella. Let's get lunch next week." She disappears into her house, and as I drive to my place, I can't help but think that maybe this was the climax of our friendship.

I hope not, but I wouldn't be surprised. At least we got to meet our idol after all these years together. That's got to count for something, right?

A week goes by and I don't hear from Angela, then two weeks. After a month of trying to contact her, I finally show up on her doorstep and refuse to leave until she agrees to see me. When she finally lets me in, I see that she has moving boxes in her living room. When I ask what she's doing, her answer floors me.

"I'm moving to LA." She won't even look at me as she tapes up a box and marks the contents.

"Why? What are you going to do there? Why wouldn't you tell me?"

She rolls her eyes as she stands up. "I'm moving up there to be with Edward."

I'm confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Bella, you know he and I are destined to be together. I just have to make it happen." She tells me all of this as if I should have thought of this myself, and I sigh, shaking my head.

"Angela, I love you. You're my best friend, but you're insane. What makes you think that if you move to LA, you're going to meet him again? And then what? He falls in love with you, and you two live happily ever after?" I'm pacing in her living room. "Does your mom know about this? Does she know you're moving out?"

"Well, no. Not yet." She suddenly sounds unsure. "You're just saying this because you want him. You think you had some kind of connection with him, and you can't wait to butt in!"

I can't believe what she's saying; she's always been a little deeper into this than I have. I never told her that I felt like there was something between us during that day because I knew it would upset her. "Angela, I just think you need to think this through. What—"

"You know what, Bella? You think too much. That's your problem. I'm a doer not a thinker." She's got her hands on her hips, and I know I need to shut this down.

"Obviously, you aren't thinking, Angela! This isn't going to work! Whatever you think is going to happen … it isn't. Get over it." I know I'm being harsh, but I need her to snap out of it.

"Get out." She's eerily quiet as she points to the door. I'm gaping at her. "I said get out, Bella. If you can't support me, then get out."

"Fine, but when you realize this is the worst idea, don't come crying to me." I slam out of her front door, getting into my car and driving away. I'm done with her brand of crazy. She's on her own.

So am I.