Page 138 of Valentine Nook
“You heard Holiday. She’s coming to the West End. So go and bring her back.” Miles adds, “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what if Agatha’s right too?”
“If she’s right about me, then she’s right about that.” I nod in Haven’s direction.
“One shitshow at a time,” Miles shoots back. “Now will you please fuck off? James is outside waiting.”
I don’t even know why I’m thinking about it.
Of course I’m flying to Los Angeles.
Even in November, Los Angeles is mild enough to wear a jumper without feeling too cold, but I’m shivering nonetheless. Shivering, shaking. Same difference. Because it’s from the same bunch of nerves playing go-karts in the pit of my stomach.
The Hollywood sign is bright white, lit up against the darkening sky. I haven’t spent a lot of time in Los Angeles before. It’s not a city Burlington Estates has any interest in, but as the evening draws in, I’m taken aback by how vast it is. The lights of the city stretch into the distance and disappear over the horizon.
I’m in the back of an SUV heading to the address Miles gave me. Up front, a little blue dot moves quickly toward the red arrow on the GPS map, and the closer it gets, the quicker my adrenaline spikes. I’ve been traveling for twelve hours, it’sapproximately two a.m. back home, and I’ve slept for a total of four hours.
It’s a lethal combination that poses a set of questions I don’t want to think about, but I will absolutely blame Miles for if everything goes tits up.
It’s evening in Los Angeles. What if Holiday isn’t home? What if I’ve got this all wrong? What if she’s getting ready for a date?
My fists clench, and my nonexistent fingernails dig into my skin so hard they almost draw blood.
The driver slows down and turns to me. “Sir, we’re here.”
I peer out the window and see what amounts to a tall gate in a very high hedge. But that’s it. There’s no driveway or entrance—just this gate in the hedge.
“This?”
The driver nods.
“Are you sure this is the right place?”
He turns and looks at me, like I dare question his map reading.
“That’s the address you gave me.”
I get out. I left my overnight bag on the plane, which in hindsight was kind of stupid, but I guess if this isn’t the right place, then I’m heading straight home.
“Where’s the garage?” I ask, trying again, because I know Holiday has a car here, so if this is her place, where does she keep it?
The driver points at a dark green garage door flush to the hedge I hadn’t noticed before. It’s kind of ingenious having a camouflaged house.
“So I guess I just ring the buzzer?”
When he rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath, I decide to cut his tip in half. Where’s the brotherly solidarity? Surely, he can see I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
I stand in front of the gate and count down from ten. When I reach one, I decide to count down from twenty.
“You want me to wait here?” the driver calls out, cutting his tip again.
“Yes,” I snap.
“Is the buzzer not working?”
This time, I ignore him and press down on the button. “Okay, here goes nothing.”
“Yeah,” barks a voice I recognize immediately.
“Holiday?” Silence stretches out, so I buzz again, only this time it goes unanswered.
