Page 36 of Fun at Parties
It feels like a gut punch. “Wait, what? You’re giving up?”
“We’re not going to find him tonight. He might have left for Colorado already. What am I going to do, chase him another seven hundred fifty miles?”
I straighten my spine. “You’ve obviously considered it, since you know exactly how far it is.”
He sits back and crosses his arms. “I happen to be excellent at geography.”
“Oh, right. I’ve been wondering, how many miles are we from Albuquerque? Or Vancouver?”
“I’m not Jolly the Clown. I don’t perform on demand,” he says.
“Nate.”
“Quinn.”
I give him my most pointed look, which is not all that sharp. He looks away and works his jaw.
“Fine,” he says. “What about you? You’re coming with me?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m part of this now.” In Denver, I’ll have something better than Logan: the women ofThe Beach House.They’re the ones who come out of it with the most fame and the biggest endorsement deals. Associating with them will give me a bigger boost. Plus, if I’m aiming for “girl power,” isn’t it better if my content includes girls?Many of whom have faced ugly breakups on national television?
It sounds cheesy, but I think it will please Tracy. And Vegas to Denver is a scenic drive. Maybe I can film snippets of the trip and cobble them together into one video, a “day in the life of a single girl on a road trip” kind of thing. As long as I can avoid revealing that I’m on the road trip with a hot guy.
“What’s your role, exactly?” Nate asks.
Right. The pitch. “Need I remind you that my mother sold a full case of Jolee tubing mascara after it made the news for making people’s eyelashes fall out? She convinced them to use it to cover up their gray hairs. Being a salesperson is in my blood. I’ll be your business wingwoman.”
He frowns. “What about your plan, though? ABeach Housealumni rager isn’t going to take place in a national park.”
I can’t bring myself to explain that I need to use this rager for content. “There’s a lot to do in Colorado. And it should be easy to drive north after to…South Dakota?” I’m not one hundred percent sure that’s correct, but there’s plenty of time for research. “Besides, I don’t have to be in nature for every minute of the trip. More than anything I need to beaway.”
“Temporarily,” he says.
“Of course.” We stare at each other. He’s daring me to concede something, I think, but I don’t know what. “You’ll need to fill me in on all the details about your camp before the party. You’re sure we can trust this Livvie person’s information?”
“She lives in Denver. The party’s at her friend’s place. It’s the best we’ve got.”
“Are she and Logan a thing?” If she’s Logan’s latest love interest, her intel is probably accurate.
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Logan tried to set me up with her a couple times, actually.”
That makes my stomach churn in a way I don’t want to acknowledge.
“I’ll drive the first half,” I say. “Better get some sleep tonight. It’s going to be a long day.”
Chapter 12
We set off at fivethe next morning. It’s about a twelve-hour drive, which should put us in Denver with a couple hours to spare before the party.
Nate promptly falls asleep in the passenger seat, his head resting against the window and his lips parted. Fish mouth, I used to call it, every time he passed out on the couch a few minutes into an episode ofSchitt’s Creekduring our month as roommates. It’s cuter than it sounds. He looks unburdened and unguarded.
With a chill pop mix playing softly and the city lights falling away, it’s a serene morning. I’ve woken before dawn most days for years. It started in college, when I got a job at the local cycling studio, working the front desk in the mornings before lectures and convincing people to buy packages of classes and branded water bottles. If someone walked in off the street, considering whether to try a class, I persuaded them. I’d picked up a few sales tricks from my mom, but mainly I just loved spin, and people were swayed by my sincere passion. Whenever there was an extra bike, I took classes for free, learning as much as I could.
There’s something about the overhead lights turning off and the colorful LEDs kicking on that feels completely immersive. Like nothing exists except me and the other people in the room, all of us pedaling to the beat in unison. I’m transported to another world for an hour and when it’s over, I’m sweating and my muscles ache and it feels good to have accomplished something for myself.
After a couple years, the owner paid for me to complete instructor training. I taught mornings and evenings before and after school. Once I graduated, I kept a similar schedule at a different studio, working around my day job in Philly, until Tracy recruited me. The compensation package she offered was too good to pass up, even for a risk-averse person like me. So I packed up and headed west.
Of course, in our studio, the lighting isn’t the same as a real studio. And now there’s no one else in the room cycling with me. It’s not quite as magical as the early days of my career, but there are always trade-offs for financial stability. I get to do it full time and reach tons of people at once, giving them a sense of accomplishment before the sun rises.
