Page 35 of Our Little Cliche
My stomach turns just thinking about getting on another plane again. Especially after the turbulence of the last one here. Quinn sends me on a mission to book flights since he forgot—inbusinessclass—and accommodation for the three days, plus the tickets for us all to the Gala that takes place afterwards. I fetch my laptop from the kitchen table and browse the web, securing business class flights for Cyrus and I from Calgary.
I’ve never flown business class before, I low key grin to myself, even though I hate flying.Maybe traveling like a fancy rich princess might help with the nerves?
Pfft. Yeah right.
I book twoseparaterooms at a hotel in Downtown Vancouver, and take the liberty of locking in the calendar a fit and dry clean for Cyrus’s suit next week. Quinn said that the best of the best authors, managers, and publishers alike will be in attendance so he and I are both to look smart and well groomed.
I take the liberty and search the event and almost squeal with excitement when I see that there will be two hundred authors. I get to meet two hundred authors, and eatanddance with them too? How I will manage to function without fangirling over a few of my favorites who will be there:P.L Manter, Lilly Lane, H.T Loomand?—
HOLY SHIT.
IzzyfuckingWentworth.My favorite author.
“Jee wizz, what a line up,” I utter to myself quietly, then compose a new email.
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From:[email protected]
Date: 12/21/2024
Time:10:30 A.M
Subject:Signing
Good morning, Quinn.
Tickets are all booked. We’re staying at the Grand Hickett, which is where the event is actually at. I’ll grab your suit this week and take it to the dry cleaner so that it’s ready for then. See you there.
Regards,
Holly Cate
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I can’t believe it, I’m going to a gala. A gala! I suppose I’ll have to do my hair all nice, and wear a pretty dress.Crap.That means I have to find one first… and have it fitted in a week. But there’s a downside…
I have to beniceandprettyin front of my boss.
My stomach growls. This cold weather just makes me want to eat, and eat. I make two hot beverages, bringing them, and the Christmas Crack to Cyrus’s office door that’s left open a crack where I stop.
The smell of cinnamon that I put in our drinks makes me think of the American movies where their families get together to decorate the house with tinsel, and drink too much eggnog, and snuggle by the fire and then build snowmen. I mentally drift off, just for a moment. I’ve spent my entire life wrapped in summers so bloody hot that the roads literally melt. Bare feet, sprinting across the sand too hot to stand on, racing to the ocean. Ice-cream dripping down my wrist. A music box blaring our favorite summer songs—usually Bucko and Champs and Chritsmas hits, maybe some Bliss n Eso or Hilltop Hoods in there too. Oh, and always the stupid cicadas, buzzing so loud it felt like my ears might bleed. And now… snow. Five spices and pine in the air. Holiday themed sweet treats in the oven.Swapped the bikini for a beanie. It’s like I’ve fallen into someone else’s December.
My first white Christmas is already turning out to be totally and utterly garbage. Building a snowman sounds great, sure, but I’d be doing it out the front of a house that doesn’t even have a Christmas tree, without the smiles, and laughter, and above all elsewithout a family. Mine don’t even know I’m not in Australia anymore. I haven’t spoken to my parents in years, not since I left my old country town to chase my dreams—a stupid ex.
Pfft, yeah, some dream.
I haven’t even charged my old phone, I don’t even know if I want to. What would they say if I called? ‘How disappointing, Holly Polly. Why did you move there?’
‘Oh, jee mum, I dunno, maybe coz I’m stupid and got absolutely shit faced when Adam left me and plotted an entire move with a one way ticket as if it’ll fix a broken heart.’
Yep. That’s how it would go.
Always a disappointment.
Always a second option.
