Page 55 of Lovetown, USA
“Well, your first column was good.”
“You read it?”
“Bitch, you know I read all your shit. Don’t do me.”
A text dings through. It’s Trey, checking to see if I got back okay.
“Have you seen the numbers yet?” Nadia asks.
I blow out a sigh. “I’m sure Britt will be calling soon to give them to me, for better or for worse.”
There’s a pause, then Nadia speaks again, softly this time. “I know you’re hoping this will be your ticket back from exile, but…are you prepared for the possibility that it won’t?”
I close my eyes, letting her words sink in. Nadia’s could find the bright side of a homegoing service, so this is a real cold glass of water she just splashed on my face.
“I’m trying to think positively about it,” I say. “Manifesting success, maybe. So no, I’m not prepared.”
“I just don’t wanna see you spiral again.”
I don’t think she realizes I’m deep in the throes of a spiral as we speak. I just haven’t hit rock bottom yet.
“I appreciate you looking out,” I say softly. “I love you for that.”
“Of course.” She pauses, then says, “By the way…Pat texted me.”
I groan as I sit up. I need all my wits about me for this one. “What did she want?”
Nadia chuckles. “She just asked about deals on flights to Miami for her.” She clears her throat. “And your dad.”
I roll my eyes. “Please don’t feel like you have to help my parents, Nadia. They’re grown. And weird for this shit, but whatever.”
She laughs. “I mean, I’m not even mad at it. They wanna go on a cruise. To celebrate their—“
“Divorce anniversary,” I finish for her. “Girl, block ‘em.”
“I will not!” she laughs, “I love your parents.”
“So do I, but that doesn’t mean you have to tolerate their bullshit. You see they didn’t even mention this to me. They went straight to you. They know they’re weird for this.”
“Well, whatever. I’m sending the links over to her later and you willdeal.”
My eyelids are getting heavy, so after a few more minutes of gossip about Nadia’s week, we say goodnight.
As if I didn’t have enough on my mind. Here come Lucas and Pat to annoy me. Been divorced twenty years and still orbiting each other like they’re soulmates.
Whatever.
I grab my flask from my bag and empty its contents right down my throat, then I drift off, content and marginally happy as I think I think about the day my industry stops blackballing me.
18
Trey
I balance the Tupperwarecontainer of still-warm blueberry muffins in one hand while I knock on the hotel room door with the other. It’s early enough that the hallway smells like industrial strength cleaning products. I half expect her not to answer.
When the lock clicks and the door swings open, Lane’s standing there in a loose T-shirt, hair messy from sleep, no makeup on. And she looks beautiful. Effortlessly. It’s startling in a way that makes me lose my bearings and forget why I’m here.
She narrows her eyes. “Now what could you possibly want at—” she glances behind her—“8:13 in the morning?”
