ROAD TRIP! That is, if a road trip involves a caravan of coach buses and production trailers. Thankfully, I'm in a car at the back of the pack. Me and Hannah, Joey Plazen's tattooed, badass, bubble-gum-popping assistant. Boston Love Letters is filming in … wait for it … Boston this week, so we are all trekking the four hours north.
It's not a great time for me to be gone. Carter's parents wanted to have dinner — our first dinner — but I had to push that back. He didn't seem to mind and I didn't either, but our relationship is in that new exciting phase where every second missed feels like hours and all you want, every moment of every day, is to be together. So a week in Boston feels really, really long. And I can't even look forward to coming home because as soon as I get back, Vic and I are supposed to have THE TALK. Yep. We confirmed the details over text after I hung up on him. Tuesday night at 10 at one of his clubs. A stupid place to meet. A stupid time to meet. I bitched about the location (How would we even be able to hear each other?) and he said we could go up to the office (ummm… no). I bitched about the time but he said it was all he could do, that he was leaving the next morning for a meeting out in L.A.
So I'm not happy about going to Boston, but I'm even more nervous about coming home. Anyway, I was about to hop on one of the coach buses, but Hannah pulled me aside, spouting statistics of bacteria and disease on public transportation so I let her drag me to her car, an older Jetta, and got in without complaint. I'd take four hours with her any day. The woman was entertaining when she just stood in place and rolled her eyes. And I hadn't gotten much alone time with her. She moves at a pace around the set that made me look like a Biggest Loser candidate in the last leg of their run. Whatever I accomplished in a day, she tripled. All that productivity didn't leave much time for friendship.
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My phone chimed when I was strapped in, seatbelt on, Hannah's fingers skimming over the controls on her car, the radio starting to play something that sounded suspiciously like country music. I raised an eyebrow in surprise and pulled out my cell.
One text, from Dante. He had driven Nicole to the airport this morning so she and Chanel could fly up in the jet. As much as I had liked the private jet treatment when we flew out to Vegas, the thought of being alone in a small cabin with Nicole was enough to send me running to the coach buses. I would have jumped in the back of one of the semis if I'd had to.
When I unlocked the phone and read the text, my stomach dropped. I reached out, stopping Hannah from shifting into drive and passed her the phone. "Look." I managed.
"Holy shit." She cursed and reached for her own phone.
Yes. Holy shit was about right.
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