Page 96 of Villainous Fate

Her jaw drops.

“Marcus William Stone, I do not sound like that!” she shouts, slapping my arm.

“You sound exactly like that, Grace Ann Davidson!” I say, mocking her again.

The next six hours fly by without dragging at all. If it weren’t for the setting sun about halfway, I would have believed we had only just begun. We make it around Stockton without incident and roll into Los Angeles just before ten pm.

The hotel Deacon booked for Grace is just a few blocks from the bookstore where the signing will be tomorrow, and we get into the room with all of our stuff.

I’m thankful they had availability so they could give us a room with two beds rather than just a queen, which they had us set for initially. I like Grace just fine, but I respect Deacon too much to try and cross that line, which only means I would have been on the floor.

Grateful to have a bed.

While Grace showers, I head to grab our dinner. I'm excited to finish today so I can take on tomorrow with Grace.

Day one of the birthday trip is a success.

Chapter 46

Grace

Sunshinesintotheroom, and I’m already awake. I got up early, unable to sleep due to my excitement. It’s like the day before school starts. I’m all nerves and butterflies. Thankfully, I only brought one outfit to wear, so I didn’t have to make any decisions about that. I braided and rebraided my hair into pigtails several times. Sometimes, it felt too juvenile for such an event, but then I remembered that Deacon would see the pictures, and I knew he would expect them.

He doesn’t know I haven’t worn them in months.

The light rumble of Marcus’s snore is oddly soothing as I brush my teeth and apply mascara for good measure.

When I'm at school or the diner, I don’t wear makeup much. I’ve always seen it as frivolous and not worth the money just to try to impress people. But this was a big day, and I wanted to have this memory forever, so the little bit of mascara felt right for the occasion.

I also threw on some of my mom’s old perfume, hoping it would give me confidence when speaking to my idols.

I could never imagine putting my work out into the world to be judged.

It was one of the main reasons I stopped writing stories a few years ago. I knew I would never be brave enough to do anything with them. They were a childhood fantasy, nothing more.

Confidence was the one thing my mother had in spades. She wasn’t loyal, nurturing, or patient, but she carried confidence easily.

The alarm on the nightstand blares to life, and Marcus pops up like someone just shocked him, his eyes scanning the room before he realizes where he is and what woke him.

“Am I late?” he asks, his voice full of gravel from waking up.

“Not at all. I’m just early. I grabbed us some bagels and coffees from the place on the corner. We have about thirty minutes before we have to leave,” I say, looking out the window at the city waking up around us.

Los Angeles isn’t beautiful here. It’s concrete, graffiti, and strange shops, but today, I smell the ocean on the breeze, and I just know it will be amazing.

“I’ll get dressed so we can get over there early,” he says, plodding off to the bathroom.

I hear the shower turn on, and I busy my hands by refolding my things into my suitcase for the second time and ensuring I have all the books ready to sign.

Half an hour later, we ate and walk out of the hotel. Marcus rolls the dolly cart I brought from the restaurant with the box of my books.

“Think you brought enough? I mean, we could always try to grab a few more while we are there,” he jokes, and honestly, he isn’t wrong. I hope they are kind enough to sign them all.

We turn the corner, and I see the sign for the bookshop up ahead. All the joy from this morning evaporates in a moment when I see the sign in the front window.

“Signing canceled. Replacement date will be announced soon!”

It’s canceled?

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