Page 5 of Second Chance Vacation

“What happened, bug?”

“I didn’t get the job. It went to this girl from Chicago. It was her first audition in New York. She barely had to try,” she says as she sobs again, except this time much louder.

“I’m sure you’ll get the next one.”

I do my best to not sound distracted as traffic finally starts moving again.

“This role was perfect for me.”

“There will be another show, Han.” I’m not great at consoling her when she is like this, not that I let that prevent me from trying.

“I know I just—I really wanted this one.”

“And you’ll really want the next one,” I lift my hand, pinching the bridge of my nose in exhaustion. I have been in the car for nearly eight hours and want nothing more than to shower.

The decision to move back to Georgia, without a doubt, still leaves a bizarre feeling in the pit of my stomach. I know moving to New York to be near Hannah would help her, but finding my first job with my law degree requires exhausting every connection I have, so my dad’s friendship with Stephen Park has to take precedence.

“I’ve been here for five years as of last month, Jackson. Five. Years.” Hannah’s audible sob causes the speaker to short. I turn it down to reduce the muffled static. She has known since seventh grade that she wanted to be an actress. She and her best friend, Vivi, auditioned for Hairspray Junior. Hannah got one of the more prominent roles, Amber Von Tussle, and she has been sure of exactly what she wants to do ever since then.

“Have you called Mom?”

“Don’t start.”

“I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just saying to consider it.”

“I’d rather not deal with her shit, thanks.”

“Just consider it.”

“That’s telling me what to do.”

I fight the urge to jump for joy as my exit comes into view. As if the universe can feel me celebrating, traffic stops again, only a few cars from the promise land.

I exhale in frustration. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“Not really.” Hannah’s breath begins to slow, the shakiness subsiding. “I just needed to cry a bit. I’ll be fine. So…you’re working at Baker & Park, huh?”

“Yeah—uh, Dad called Stephen, so I’ll be starting there in a few weeks.”

“That sucks,” Hannah says, her laugh traveling through the speaker, much to my relief.

“Idon’t have lifelong disdain for a certain Park.”

“You should. Really, I think your friendship is a testament to your lack of taste, not mine.”

I roll my eyes, trying not to feed into her nonsense.

Traffic moves just enough for me to get off the highway, thankful that this never-ending trip will soon be over.

“Uh huh. Well just call if you need anything, okay? I know you’re set up in New York, but you know you’re always welcome here, right?”

“I know. Thank you, Jackson.”

“No problem, bug—” I pull into the driveway of Wes’s four-bedroom house, relieved that I can finally get out of this car. “Wait. Uh, actually, I’ll be without service for a few weeks. I’m going to France with Wes.” I know I can get an international card for my phone, but the more I consider it, the more I like the idea of being disconnected for a little while. I seldom have the opportunity to go off the grid, and while there will be WiFi, I can’t be sure how often until we’re there.

“Lucky you.”

“You’ve been to France plenty.” I chuckle, trying not to lean into her attempts at garnering sympathy.

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