Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
I wasn’t sure snobbishness was any better, but I nodded. I didn’t have college, barely had high school, then enlisted as soon as I secured the last credit in summer school. And I was a guy. Sure, I had a rich dad, but I probably wouldn’t pass muster with Malik’s mom.
Stop. I tried to divert my brain away from its strange fascination with meet-the-family scenarios.
The rental place had a sweet blue SUV with four-wheel drive that looked plenty big enough until we were all alone with a couple of hours of driving ahead of us. Suddenly, I could smell Malik again, feel the warmth rolling off his body, hear the brush of fabric as he removed his heavy coat to drive, a thousand little memories of Valentine’s night assaulting me. I wanted a repeat so badly. I had no idea how I was going to make it the next two hours, let alone the next few weeks.
“Do you want to pick the music? Or do you want to listen to this podcast I found on animal behavior? It made me think of you and your thing for documentaries.” Malik smiled at me as he adjusted the mirrors. “Or we could talk.”
“Podcast,” I said, probably a little too quickly, but talking was dangerous. So was Malik thinking about me, finding the absolute perfect podcast for a nature-show geek like me. And moreover, he actually seemed into it, making comments and asking questions. The miles passed far faster than I’d expected. My body was almost too comfortable in the passenger seat as we passed through the larger towns and made our way to the ghost town.
Copper Wheel was the remains of a little town left behind when the interstate came through to the north. The handful of residents were left with a tiny state highway in shabby shape and a bunch of rundown buildings. Most of the buildings seemed part of some failed tourist bid judging by the big yellow Welcome to Ye Olde West Towne sign near the dusty motel with a half-lit vacancy sign. Across from the motel sat a diner with lighting so dim I couldn’t tell whether it was open. The main street, such as it was, had boarded-up shops representing various decades of optimism before the area seemed to have closed for good.
“Avery! What a pleasant surprise.” A young woman greeted us as soon as we parked near the diner. Keely was a PA I recognized from our work together on the show Traveling. I’d hit on her a few times, but she seemed presently inclined to forget that, and so was I. “This is my first time serving as assistant producer, and I knew we wanted A-List for security for our movie. Only the best for my girlfriend’s directorial debut.”
“Of course.” I tried to keep my expression neutral. Girlfriend. That explained why she’d shut me down cold.
“Let me show you around, then I’ll take you both to your room.”
“Room?” A pit of dread opened right below my sternum.
“Didn’t your boss tell you?” Keely frowned, full lower lip jutting out in a pout. “We wanted on-site security and a way to lower production expenses, so we took over the old motel for most of the cast and crew.”
“Oh.” That didn’t sound too bad.
“But the place is a bit behind in its renovation plan, and we have fewer rooms than we had hoped for, so you two are sharing. It’s a big room though. Two beds.”
“We’re roommates?” Malik and I echoed each other, wearing twin expressions of horror. Forget two hours or three weeks. I wasn’t going to make it twenty minutes if we had to share.
Chapter Ten
Malik
“Roommates,” Avery muttered yet again. He had been grumbling for hours. Keely had given us a tour of Copper Wheel. One lone main street with a few houses dotting the surroundings, remnants of a farm, and a mill with a water wheel. The town felt trapped under a layer of dust and disrepair, but it would make the perfect setting for an early 1900s period piece. Avery’s commentary on the scenery had been dotted with more quiet griping about the housing.
The old diner had been repurposed for cast and crew meals. Tuna melts and fries were usually hard to ruin, but this place sure tried, which didn’t improve Avery’s mood.
Now we were alone in the room. Keely had given us keys—actual metal ones, not pin codes or cards—and wishes for a good night’s sleep. As if such a thing was possible.
“The room isn’t that bad.” I tried for a cheery tone to counter Avery. Two double beds, florid crimson-and-pink floral spreads, clean carpeting, pleasant smell. Old, but passable. I flopped on the bed closest to the attached bathroom. “Decent mattresses, at least.”
“We shouldn’t have to share.” Avery continued to pace by the TV centered opposite the two beds.