by Kennedy Fox
I try to busy my mind with the upcoming thirteen-hour drive and the signing in Vegas this weekend—anything that will lead me away from thoughts of Maverick—but somehow my mind keeps going back to him. Considering he appears in my dreams and my thoughts just makes me realize that I need to keep him at a distance. It’s easy to pretend something’s between us, but it’s not reality. There are many reasons it would never work, regardless if my heart lurches forward each time I see him. I refuse to be another slash on his bedpost. Not to mention I need my job, and if Rachel suspects anything is going on between us, she’ll fire me on the spot, and it’s just not worth it. There’s a line of people who’d die to be her assistant even though it’s not full of glitz and glamour like they think.
After I’m dressed, I decide to read for a bit since I have time but realize I can’t concentrate. Instead, I pull up my inbox only to find several emails Rachel’s sent to her publisher about a summer tour she expects next year. Two weeks of my life on the road isn’t so bad, but two months is pushing the line. I’m not sure I’d survive it. In reply after reply, Rachel has volunteered me to plan the entire thing and write up a proposal with the cost to be submitted by the end of the month. When I realize I’m grinding my teeth, I stand and try to shake off my annoyance, but it doesn’t help. Thankfully, she gave me a year to plan it instead of three months, but damn, this might take a freaking village.
When my alarm rings out, causing me to jump, I realize I forgot to turn it off. I text Maverick and let him know when we’ll be leaving, and I get a thumbs-up emoji in response. It’s early, and I’m already in a shitastic mood. After I pack my stuff, I linger for another twenty minutes before I go to the lobby and wait for him. Surprisingly, he’s right on time, which is impressive. Maybe I’m finally wearing on him.
I stand and wheel my suitcase outside.
“Well good morning to you too,” he says, taking the keys from the valet.
After my suitcases are placed in the back, I get in the passenger seat. “Morning.”
I flip open my planner for next year and try to nail down a practical schedule for a summer tour that doesn’t interfere with any events Rachel already has planned. I’m so fucking frustrated and let out a huff.
“Everything okay?” Maverick turns down the music.
I glance over at him, then look back at my planner. “No.”
“Want to talk about it?” He slows down at a stoplight, looks over at me, then yells, “Goat rodeo!” I’m so damn confused when he reaches for the handle, jumps out, and pretends he’s riding a bucking bull as he runs around the car before climbing back into the driver’s side. I burst out into laughter.
“Have you lost your mind?” I say between laughs as he gets back inside.
The light turns green, and he accelerates, then stops at another red light. Glancing over at me with the cutest smirk on his face, Maverick yells goat rodeo again. He does the same thing and gets back in the driver’s side before the light turns green.
I’m laughing so hard, tears roll down my cheeks, and I can barely catch my breath. I glance over at a man in the car next to us, and he’s shaking his head. Maverick waves at him with a grin.
“Better now?” he asks as he speeds up onto I-70. All I can do is smile and nod.
Soon the city is behind us, and I try to soak in the surroundings while I can, though I’ve heard the drive through this side of Colorado and through Utah is beautiful. The mountains disappear for a while, but then I see the top of the snowcapped mountains, and I can’t keep my eyes off them.
“We should come back. You need to see Garden of the Gods. It’s a must,” he says as we drive through Grand Junction.
“Maverick.” I look over at him. “You know good and well that after this trip we’ll go our separate ways and never talk again unless it’s about business.”
His face slightly contorts. “Wow, that hurts. I thought we were getting friendship bracelets and all.”
I snort, giving him a look. “We’re two people who were forced to road trip together. I just don’t want either of us to be confused about where we stand. You’ll go back to California, and I’ll go back to Chicago, and our lives will go on. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been fun, but this is all it is. That’s the reality.”
The car grows silent and stays that way until we’re in Utah. I almost feel bad, but it’s the truth, and sometimes the truth hurts. Once we’re at the halfway point, Maverick pulls over, and we have lunch. Just as I’m about to take a bite of my chicken quesadilla, my phone starts ringing. Mother flashes across the screen. I reject the call and Maverick notices but doesn’t say anything.
We pay, get gas, and I check the GPS before I put the car in drive and head toward Vegas. My phone vibrates again. I glance at it, then reject the call. I cannot talk to her right now.
“Why aren’t you answering your mom’s call?” he finally asks.
I swallow hard, not really wanting to discuss it, and stare out at the mountains. Maverick shared so much with me about his dad that I feel guilty about wanting to keep that part of my life from him. Sometimes it’s better not to talk about my past because then it’s almost as if it never happened. When I don’t answer his question, he stares out the window, and I feel an invisible wall being built. Considering this trip is almost over, and we won’t be hanging out again, I suck it up.
“It’s because she probably wants money or something. I don’t have the best relationship with my mother, and my father is nonexistent. My family life isn’t the greatest. It’s actually kinda fucked up.”
He doesn’t look at me with pity or sadness, and relief floods through me. “I don’t know anyone who has a perfect family life. Everyone has skeletons.”
I give him a small smile. “She’s the reason I’m the way I am. It’s important for me to have control of my life because for so long I didn’t. It’s why I live and die by my schedule. My father left us when I was a baby, and I don’t actually remember him at all, and my mom struggled to keep a job for years. She’s the type of woman who needs to be wanted by someone, and growing up, I witnessed that. My father leaving us ultimately destroyed her.”
Maverick doesn’t say anything; he sits there and listens.
“Eventually, she met the wrong man who introduced her to drugs, and it helped her push away the pain. At thirteen years old, I watched her destroy her life, one hit at a time. While love and that feeling of being wanted once ruled her, it was replaced with shooting up. When I was sixteen, she met someone who really cared about her. He was a stand-up guy and tried to get her help, but she refused. She chose drugs over him, and eventually, he left us too. This only caused her to enter another downward spiral. There were weeks when I didn’t see her, didn’t know where she was, but I kept it all inside while trying to finish high school.”
“Wow, Olivia. I’m sorry,” he offers, shaking his head.
“A week before I graduated high school, I came home and found her face down on the floor. I called 911 and did CPR until the ambulance arrived. That day, I thought she was going to die, and I’d be put into foster care until my eighteenth birthday. I was so scared and sad, because she was all I had, but I was never enough—I wasn’t enough for her to stay clean. She needed companionship so much that she was willing to die for that. My entire life was chaos until I left home for college. So no, I don’t always answer her calls because she usually wants something from me—which is the only time she ever reaches out—and I don’t have time to deal with that right now. I have my own problems.” My words come out harsher than I intended.
“I understand. I really do. Do you know where your dad is now?” he asks.
“Living in New York. He offered to take me in when shit got really bad, but I couldn’t leave my mother. We have an okay relationship, but he was barely there for me. And any money he sent, my mother spent on drugs. I learned at a young age to take care of myself,” I tell him.
“My opinion still stands. You’re an absolute badass. I hav
e so much fucking respect for you.” His words are sweet and sincere, which I appreciate more than he’ll ever know.
My phone vibrates again, and this time, Maverick rejects the call for me. The rest of the way we talk about things that aren’t so personal—music, TV shows, Netflix series binges, and the beaches in California. Soon we’re making our way into Las Vegas, and when I pull up to a stoplight, I look over at him and smirk.
“Goat rodeo!” I yell out and reach for my door handle. Maverick steps out and starts his bucking bronco movements, and I shut my door and accelerate. In the rearview mirror, I watch as he lifts his arms up in the air. I’m laughing so hard as he walks a block toward me. He opens the door and sits inside, and I’m huddled over, laughing my ass off.
“I owe you one for that! The woman at the light was so confused. She hurried and locked her door like I was going to rob her,” he explains with a smirk.
“I know. I watched her mouth fall open when I drove off,” I try to explain through my laughter.
“Just wait, I feel so sorry for you. I don’t get back, Olivia. I get even,” he playfully threatens.
I sarcastically nod. “Suuuure.”
By the time we make it to our hotel, my face hurts from laughing so much. We get out, and I check in. I hand him his key, and he pretends to be mad.
“I’m going to get you when you least expect it,” he warns as he walks toward the elevator.
I follow him. “Good. I look forward to it.”
Chapter Sixteen
MAVERICK
I love watching Olivia finally loosen up and laugh until her face turns red. She’s gorgeous without even trying, but when she stops overthinking everything and just relaxes, she’s stunning. Simply beautiful.
“So what are you going to do on your first night in Vegas?” I ask her when we reach our floor.
“I’m exhausted, so I plan to order room service, take a hot bath, and go to bed.” She drags her roller suitcase behind her, and I can’t help but watch the sway of her hips rock back and forth. She stops at her room and turns to look at me. “What are you gonna do?”
“I have a couple of friends here actually and told them I’d hit them up once I arrived. Other than that, I’m not sure. Probably hit the Strip.”
She bites down on her lip and lowers her head, scanning her eyes over my body. Even when she’s trying to be subtle about it, I catch her every time.
“Well don’t forget we have a very packed schedule tomorrow,” she finally says, scanning her key card. “Rachel will—”
“I know, Olivia.” I step forward, pinning her with my eyes. “I won’t be late.” I toss her a wink before walking to my room a few doors down. Just before I step inside, I lean back and see she’s still standing in the hallway. “Good night, Olivia.”
“Uh yeah, night. See you tomorrow.” She scrambles to get inside as fast as she can with her luggage.
Waking up in Vegas is a complete experience all on its own. The sun is bright as fuck, the streets are filled with cars and people walking around, and it’s as if no one even went to sleep. Everyone is still on the go, ready to keep the Vegas atmosphere alive.
According to Olivia’s schedule, Rachel has a bookstore signing off the Strip and then a luncheon meet and greet with seventy-five VIP readers. After that, Rachel is meeting with some locals to gamble, which means Olivia and I will be on our own after dinner.
“Good morning,” I say as soon as Olivia opens her door. I push off the wall and hand her a Starbucks cup of her favorite drink.
“Mornin’...” she replies slowly, narrowing her eyes at me suspiciously. “You’re looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for this early.”
“Don’t I always?” I feign offense. She ignores me and sips her coffee as if it’s her lifeline.
“You ready for today?” she asks as we make our way into the elevator.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Olivia presses the button for the third floor where Rachel’s private signing is being held. This event is different from the others because it’s not in a bookstore or in a large ballroom with dozens of other authors. From what Olivia’s told me, Rachel will participate in a Q&A, and then the readers will have the opportunity to get their books signed.
“You’ll be sitting up there with Rachel, but the majority of the questions will be for her,” she informs me.
“And you’ll be doing what?”
“I’ll be the emcee, asking the questions. After polling her reader group and Facebook page, I spent three months researching and narrowed the list of most frequently asked questions down to thirty. Her readers should enjoy it. Then if there’s time afterward, I’ll let the audience ask a couple of questions too.”
“Wow...pretty intensive process,” I half-joke with her, but honestly, I’m not even surprised anymore. Olivia doesn’t do anything half-assed, and that’s part of the reason I respect her so much.
I follow Olivia into the back way through a private room and am surprised to see Rachel is already there, talking to one of the hotel workers. There’s a small stage up front with a table and chairs and a podium with a microphone. She’s rambling off orders, demanding a beverage station, more chairs, and less of a “breeze,” whatever that means.
“Olivia, about time.” Rachel finally turns and acknowledges her. “Angel needs to be let out in about twenty minutes. I’d like a plain bagel with fat-free cream cheese, not toasted, and I’ve decided to have Maverick emcee the Q&A, so you’ll need to give him the list of questions.”
My head shakes to make sure I heard Rachel correctly. Looking at Olivia, she stands frozen in place, nodding as she listens to all her orders. I can’t believe she’s just taking it and not even arguing with her, considering Olivia just told me how much work it took to get this together. I wouldn’t feel right taking her place, not to mention I wasn’t even asked properly.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I finally blurt out, unable to hold back after seeing Olivia’s face drop. “Olivia is more prepared. She knows the books. I-I’m just the image.”
“Oh, that’s why it’d be perfect!” Rachel singsongs, walking toward me with a bright smile. “They’ll be glued to you and really take a lot from the whole experience.”
I look over Rachel’s shoulder and see Olivia’s face. She gives me a tight head shake to tell me not to argue with her, though I’m really tempted. This is a shitty thing for her to pull at the last second.
I nod, giving Rachel my approval, and when I do, she squeals and nearly blows out my eardrums. After that’s settled, Olivia and Rachel talk about the volunteers out front who are taking the readers’ tickets and making final touches.
Four hours later, my throat is dry and raw after hosting the Q&A and then chatting with readers during the signing. As far as I know, everything went great, and Rachel and her readers left happy.
“Well, if your modeling career doesn’t take off, at least you know you have a knack for hosting,” Olivia says as we make our way back to our rooms. “Could be one of those TV game show hosts where they wear fancy suits and drink twenty-dollar bottled water.” She forces out a laugh, but I see right through it.
“Olivia, stop.” She turns but doesn’t look at me. I bring a finger under her chin and tilt her head until our eyes meet. “Why did you let her walk all over you like that? I hated taking that from you.”
She shrugs, and I reluctantly drop my hand. “Because it’s my job to make her happy. It doesn’t matter what I want or what I do on the side. Rachel always gets what she wants, and it’s just easier to let her do things her way when she changes her mind.”
“Just because it’s easier doesn’t mean it’s right.”
“Not in my world,” she states. “What’s it matter anyway? The readers were happy to listen to you talk and crack jokes, so that’s all that really matters in the end.”
“I wish Rachel knew everything you go through to please her. She takes you for granted. That’s easy to see,”
I tell her sincerely. “We should go out tonight. You need a drink or ten.” I flash her a smile, hoping she’ll give in.
“I don’t know. Rachel has that author reading tomorrow afternoon and…”
“Stop making excuses, Olivia. C’mon. Just one drink.” I pout out my lower lip and make pathetic whimpering noises. “Don’t make me get on my knees and beg because I will.”
She snort-laughs and pushes against my chest. “You’re full of shit.”
Without missing a beat, I fall to my knees and put my hands out in a pleading hold, batting my eyes with the biggest frowny face I can muster. “Olivia, please!” I shout loudly, knowing she’ll cave once I start embarrassing her. “Please! Please, please, please!”
“Oh my God!” Olivia squeals, pulling at my hands to lift me, but she’s a weakling compared to me. “You’re insane! Get up!” She’s laughing now, and I know I have her on board. “Fine! Okay, let’s go, you psycho!”
“Yes! Victory is mine!” I throw my fist into the air and celebrate.
“One drink! Got it?” she warns me with her puny little finger in my face.
Approximately six mixers and three shots of vodka later, Olivia and I are feeling every ounce of liquor. I’m not sure how many I’ve had or how many she’s had, but the table between us is filled with empty glasses.
“Oh my God, I have an amazing idea!” Olivia shouts over the music, but she’s close enough that I can hear her without her shouting. “We should find a karaoke bar!”
“A karaoke bar?” I question. “Are you finally going to serenade me?” I tease. I’m definitely not drunk enough to do karaoke, but Miss Lightweight passed tipsy and buzzed three drinks ago.