Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“I can’t wait to tell William tonight.”
“Maybe he can go down to LA for the appearance,” I suggest, since I’m helpful like that.
“You’re such an enabler.”
“I’m full of brilliant ideas.”
“Like this one,” she says, then hands me her purse since I suggested earlier that we trade bags. I give her mine. We swapped the contents earlier.
“And now, the pièce de résistance.” Grandly, with much fanfare, she hands me her pair of pink heart-shaped shades.
“Ooh, your signature accessory these days.” I put on the sunnies, pushing them through my hair so they act as a headband.
Then, it’s showtime.
I yank open the door, greeting the sturdy woman who protects my sister most of the time. “Hi, Wanda! How’s everything going?” I ask brightly, imitating Haven.
She blinks, shaking her head in amusement. “It’s eerie.”
“I know,” I say, pleased we’re so convincing.
She walks with me down the hall, then the steps, then into the lobby. From behind the desk, Bridget doesn’t even bat a lash. She simply smiles. “Do you need help with anything, Haven?”
I drum my fingers on the counter, talking a touch faster than I do usually, a bit peppier. “Is that arcade still open on Main Street?”
“The one we all used to go to in high school?”
“Yes. The retro arcade,” I say.
“It is.”
“Fabulous. I haven’t played Ms. Pac-Man in ages,” I say, naming Haven’s favorite game.
“Pretty sure you still have the high score.”
Well, Haven was excellent at that game. “Awesome,” I say, then turn around, but like I forgot something, I spin back. “What time is it?”
Bridget smiles kindly, clearly knowing Haven was always rubbish with time. “Seven ten.”
“Thanks, Bridge. Don’t wait up too late for me, but I’ll text you later.”
She looks momentarily confused, but I’ll explain it to her soon.
When I turn around, I say to Wanda, “Do you like arcade games? I have to show you this fun arcade in my hometown. It’s even better than the one in—” I stop, think, then take a wild guess: “Santa Monica.”
“That’s high praise.”
“I know,” I say, and we make a show of walking through the lobby. And I mean show. Because I want someone to see me act. I thought I’d hate it, but acting in my own body—so to speak—is surprisingly fun. I’m not me right now. I’m my sister, and I know what to do with my face. Smile. Shine. Beam.
Like Haven did when she faced her demons and took charge of her mental health. When she went to therapy and worked on herself. When she moved forward from grief and the chokehold it had on her.
Like that, I protect my sister as I walk out of the hotel, being the best bodyguard for her so her secret boyfriend can slip upstairs and see her.
“Damn, girl. You’re working it,” Wanda whispers proudly.
“Thank you.”
Yup. I’m pulling it off.
C’mon, photographers. Show up. Take my pic. I dare you.
I’m only mildly disappointed that there are no photographers waiting on the street. But I’m wildly happy when I spot William in a blue Prius, pulling around the side of the hotel to the back door.
I turn to go, having pulled it off when someone clears a throat from behind me. “Just the person I wanted to see.”
Oh, shit.
I wince, stopping in my tracks at the sound of Vega’s voice. Didn’t see that coming. But then, I fasten on my best Haven grin, turning around. Vega strides from inside the inn toward me on the street. I’m a little terrified. She’s the most no-nonsense of no-nonsense people I’ve ever met.
“Hey! What’s going on?” I ask brightly.
“The scene tomorrow,” she says, tapping her chin. “Your character—I think before the wedding, in order for us to believe she’d run off with her brother’s best friend when she finds out her groom is cheating, she needs to be doubting her choices already.”
Vega waits.
Oh. Right. This is where I speak. “Cold feet?” I ask, hoping that’s what an actor would say not only to a director but to a director who possibly wants to work with her again.
Vega’s brow knits, a look of displeasure. “Yes, but ask yourself why, Haven. Why does she have cold feet?”
This feels like one of those dreams when you’re back in school and you didn’t study for the test. I steal a glance at Wanda, like maybe she keeps a crib sheet of actor answers with her. But she’s scanning the streets.
It’s up to me to play the actress. Time to improvise. Like the kid who definitely missed all the classes, I try again, suggesting, “Because her groom is cheating?”
“But she doesn’t know that.” It’s a slap on an actor’s wrist.
Vega taps her toe. I gulp, then try one more time. “Because she’s always wondered if maybe the brother’s best friend is the guy for her?”
That earns me a small, safe nod, then I’m saved by a voice saying, “Two of my favorite people!”