Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
We kinda needed the money too. Seth required more people on board within Condor Chicks since we’d started appearing on international television. We’d reached that stage where we were talking about our own legal teams, production teams, and so on. Which was fucking wild.
Less wild was the notion of moving our headquarters. We were running out of space fast, and our business had grown to the point where it’d stopped being legal for us to run a headquarters in a residential area. It had worked when we’d lived there, of course. And we’d gotten by fine when we’d had fewer people. But now…
If Jake and I got our way, we’d keep the house we had now for podcast stuff. It was our comfort zone. We loved to work there, whether we recorded Off Topic episodes or brainstormed on the patio. It could remain our office, while Seth presided over some traditional studio building like Ortiz had in Culver City.
When Jake returned from the bathroom, it was time to return to the present too. While all our future projects piled up, we couldn’t lose focus on what we were currently working on. And this was one of those Roe-can’t-travel-far-so-let’s-shoot-locally projects. A nine-episode series about major celebrities who had rejected Hollywood and other metropolises to lead quieter lifestyles in Smalltown, America. Part focus on the celebrity, part focus on the small town.
It probably wouldn’t win any awards, but I was looking forward to it anyway. I loved small towns and local culture.
We’d shoot part of the series now and the rest after the holidays, before Jake and I were off to Alaska.
Martina and her crew were getting on the road tomorrow, first to meet a famous painter in some tiny, no-name place in Arkansas, then to spend a couple days with a celebrity chef who lived on a farm outside Nashville. Meanwhile, Jake and I were heading to a town I’d never heard of in northern Washington to say hi to one of Jake’s childhood idols, former rock star and current music producer Lincoln Hayes. I’d obviously heard of Path of Destruction; it’d been one of the biggest rock bands of the ’90s, but it’d never been my type of music.
My brothers were a little jealous. That was all that mattered. Angus, Kyle, and Ben had loved the band.
Zach had promised that Lincoln Hayes was more bark than bite—and that his wife was really nice. She ran a shelter for men, women, and children who’d escaped abuse, which was how Zach had met her. Henry was involved in the charity, and they volunteered there sometimes.
Jake unfolded a tourist brochure about the town that Zach had given us. “Camassia Cove. What kind of name is that?”
I chuckled.
“Is that even a cove?” He pointed to the map inside the brochure. “Looks more like a bay to me.”
I grinned and eyed him. “When was the last time you ate, hon?”
He frowned. “Don’t turn me into a Snickers commercial. I’m me even when I’m hungry.”
I laughed.
“Yeah—just a crankier version.” I leaned in and kissed his cheek.
All permitted under the silent understanding of Jake and Roe Hiding in Plain Sight. Zach and Henry may have found us…close…at the Halloween party a few weeks ago, but people we’d known longer never batted an eyelash.
“We’ll stop for a burger in Seattle,” I promised. We had a rental truck waiting for us, and Zach had given us instructions to take the short route to his hometown, not the scenic one with a ferry involved.
Funny name or not, the little town two hours north of Seattle seemed like a postcard-worthy place. We had a list of fourteen locations to shoot in, from the town center of a neighborhood called Cedar Valley that the locals referred to as Little Seattle, to Point Douglas, a remote lighthouse up on the cliffs that flanked the northern part of town. Jake would send our drone up in the Downtown marina as well as in the garden of Cedar Inn, where we’d stay. The brochure promised hot springs, hiking trails, fantastic restaurants, mountain views, and the “famous” Silver Beach.
I was so caught up in making sure our permits were in order that I missed Jake pulling up to the curb. I looked up, a little disoriented, and spotted a large Victorian house with a big wraparound porch. The whole town was ablaze in fall colors, and Cedar Inn was situated at the end of the street, so the house had nothing but trees and mountains in the background.
Add a burning sunset to that, and it was just stunning.
“This is where people either get married and live happily ever after or…get murdered in a thunderstorm.”
Jake stared at me before opening the door and getting out. “I think we need to break up.”
I grinned. What?! The house was totally the perfect location for a murder mystery! Or a wedding!