Writing a Wrong (10 page)

"Fine, a whole pizza. Remi said there's a fabulous place close by on the East Side."

He balked slightly. "No offense to Remi, but her palate seems to run toward finer cuisine. The kind of pizza I want shouldn't be fancy. I don't want some specialty cheese or any oddball, eccentric toppings."

"Her exact description was that it's a hole in the wall that looks like it should have probably been condemned years ago, but she swears the pizza is so good it'll make you weep. I'd take that as a pretty good endorsement."

"Fine," he conceded. "Fair warning though, if there's so much as a linen napkin on the table, we're out of there."

"Fair enough." I pulled one of my gloves off so I could find the directions on my phone. Smartphones were truly amazing. I'm not sure how people functioned without them. I shuddered at the thought of trying to last one day without mine. My attachment to my iPhone was a constant source of entertainment for everyone. Riley liked to tease me and say that if he cut off my hand, an iPhone would grow back in its place.

Alec and I took our time strolling to the pizza joint. Coming from Florida where everything was green pretty much all year long, it was almost eerie to see all the barren trees. Alec liked it, but it creeped me out a little. They seemed so naked without leaves. Maybe if we had been here in the fall when all the leaves were pretty oranges and reds, that would have been something to see. Even a fresh snowfall would have improved the view during our stroll. As it was, the ground was covered in dirty snow piles that hid any kind of organic life. Growing up, my exposure to snow had been limited, but anytime I had been around it, the snow was always pristine white. I'm sure if I lived here my attitude would be different and just like every other New Yorker who probably preferred the snow to be swiftly shoveled off the streets and sidewalks.

Dead leaves, devoid of any color, crunched under our feet, turning into dust that blew away around our feet. I purposefully walked over each one I could, loving the sound they made beneath my boots.

The best part of the walk was the conversation. Olivia was my best friend who knew all my secrets, but Alec was my equal on so many levels. We both saw things in similar ways and shared many points of view. We had a comfortable rapport. It really didn't matter what we were talking about. I missed that when we were apart—someone who got me on almost every single level.

The small pizza establishment was crowded when we arrived, but we were able to snag a metal table outside that was at least cleared of snow. The metal chairs were almost like sitting on blocks of ice from the brisk temperatures, but the pizza was every bit as good as Remi claimed. Even though my teeth chattered occasionally, Alec and I lingered over our lunch, enjoying every second of our time together. In a few short hours he would have to leave to catch his flight home. We both knew that this last bit of time would have to do until I returned home in March, but neither of us reminded ourselves.

Despite my desire to hold on to them, the hours inevitably disappeared. No matter how much I dragged my feet or how slow our pace. That was the thing about time, it could drag when you least wanted it to and fly by when you wanted to savor it. And try as you might, you can never beat it. Time was a bitch, void of feelings. Greg offered to take Alec to the airport, and I insisted on tagging along. Saying goodbye at the hotel seemed wrong.

The traffic was thick and gnarly as if it was trying to do us a favor. Not that Greg wasn't maneuvering strategically from one lane to the next like I'd experienced before. We arrived at the airport with plenty of time to spare before Alec's flight. Greg pulled up to the curb at the terminal, staying behind the wheel while Alec and I said our goodbyes.

"I'm sorry you have to work back-to-back weekends to make up for this," I said, blinking my eyes rapidly from the moisture collecting in them.

Alec pulled me tightly against him. "It was worth it. I only wish I could have arranged more time off."

I nodded my head against his chest. "Me too. I'm almost glad I leave on the Love Bus tomorrow. I could use the distraction."

"You're going to have fun," he said, stroking his hand down my back. "It'll be like a slumber party every single night. Don't hesitate to text me pictures if a pillow fight breaks out."

A watery giggle bubbled up through me. "You're such a guy."

He tilted my chin up. "I love you, babe. Hurry home so we can play house."

I almost cringed a bit at his words. We had just spent two glorious—but short—days together and for some reason I still got uptight at the thought of what waited back home. I had no idea what was wrong with me. I loved Alec for crap's sake, which should mean I was ready for the whole package. Wanting a happily ever meant accepting all the responsibilities of an adult relationship. Not just the sex, earth shattering as it may be. My conflicting emotions were screwing with my head. I wanted to latch on to Alec and never let go, but I also wanted to push him away and tell him I needed my space. Who would have ever thought the words playing house would freak me out so much?

Alec peered deeply into my eyes as if he were searching my soul. Could he see my fear? I hoped not. The last thing I wanted was for him to second-guess my feelings for him. Whatever was going on in my head was my problem, not his. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just going to miss you," I answered honestly, dragging his mouth to mine. Our tongues danced for a moment before we pulled away. A stray tear escaped, rolling down my cheek.

Alec wiped the tear away, warming my cheek with his hand. "I believe in you." He lifted his bag and hoisted it over his shoulder, taking the initiative to walk away.

I stood on the sidewalk, watching him disappear into the terminal. I almost shouted his name but bit my cheek to stop myself. He appeared again through the glass and waved one last time before turning away and then he was gone.

Chapter 11

"Smack my ass and call me a donkey. That's the Love Bus?" Monica whistled as our traveling home for the next month pulled up in front of the hotel.

The rest of us could only gape at the monstrosity. I'm not sure what I had been expecting, but this was not it. This RV was more than rock star caliber. Even famous musicians traveled less conspicuously than what was parked before our eyes. The large motor home was covered from front to back and on both sides with the current book cover of each of the four authors. We would be a rolling billboard. If the publisher wanted attention, then mission accomplished.

The door opened and Greg jumped down from the vehicle to help stow our luggage. Chelsea stood on the top step, clapping her hands. "Climb aboard, ladies," she said, ushering us inside. "Isn't this spectacular?"

She couldn't have been more right. Four plush oversized chairs that swiveled and reclined surrounded one common table in the middle. Each chair also had built-in temperature regulating cupholders. Mounted on the wall, adjacent to the chairs, were power stations with multiple outlets for laptops and phones. A flat-screen TV, mounted above the cockpit looked to have a perfect view from every chair. Under the TV sat a low sofa across from a galley kitchen with a refrigerator stocked with water and soda. We knew that because Tina peeked inside. A large basket filled with snacks and other delicacies took up most of the space on the counter.

"Dibs on this chair," Monica said, throwing herself on one of the recliners closest to the kitchen.

Her declaration spurred us all into action, acting like kids on the first day of school as we claimed our spots. Tina took the seat next to Monica while Michelle and I happily grabbed the two chairs across from them.

"Gah, I'm never going to want to leave this," Michelle said, reclining her chair backward into a near lying position. I had to agree with her. I wanted to park this bad boy in my apartment complex and never leave.

"Everyone ready to go?" Greg asked, entering the RV wearing the chauffeur's hat I picked up for him in Times Square. It was a gag gift since he was always insisting I sit in the back. Seeing him wear it now made all of us laugh. The trip was already starting out with a bang. With our easy rapport and amazing workstations, it was going to be epic. To think, I could have fun and get my next book written at the same time. The situation was ideal.

An hour later, I was singing a different tune. Riding in an RV was a tad different than being in a car. The oversized vehicle had a tendency to sway from time to time, especially since there was a heavy breeze blowing outside. My stomach was already threatening to rebel and ruin the entire trip. I had to abandon my lovely workstation and trade spots with Chelsea on the couch in hopes that if I were lying down I might be able to get my nausea under control. After embarrassing myself already by running to the small bathroom to puke, I kept my eyes tightly closed, willing myself not to vomit again in the rocking puke wagon—Love Bus my ass.

I envied the cast-iron stomachs of my traveling mates as I listened to their muted voices. Naively, I thought after tossing my cookies I'd feel better. How wrong I was. Six weeks of this hell was likely to kill me. When I told Olivia I planned to watch what I ate during the trip, I had other ideas in mind.

"You okay, slick?" Greg asked over his shoulder.

"I'm planning my funeral. Will you make sure they don't decorate my coffin with black flowers?" I couldn't see him because I was facing the other way, but I could hear the amusement in his voice above my head.

"Can do. You want me to do your eulogy too?"

I cracked my eyes open and tilted my head back to see him staring at me in the rearview mirror. "Only if you gloss over how I died. Death by Puke Factory doesn't have the best ring to it.

He smirked at me. "Puke Factory? What happened to Love Bus?"

I closed my eyes again, realizing that I felt marginally better that way. "I've lost all my love for this death trap," I muttered. Laughter rang out from the chairs next to me. I couldn't hear the topic of conversation, but it saddened me to be missing out on the fun.

"We'll be stopping for lunch soon. Maybe you'll feel better after you get a little food in your stomach. I used to get sick before lacrosse games in college, couldn't eat anything without puking it up. Then afterward I would chow big time and always felt better."

As thought provoking as his anecdote was, the idea of food made my stomach clench. I could tell my mood was matching the sourness of my stomach so I neglected to comment any further. The only thing I wanted was a shallow grave that would remain blissfully still.

Thankfully, I was able to doze off, so time passed without me on my knees in the smallest bathroom ever clutching the toilet. I woke sometime later to the sound of the brakes squealing, bringing the RV to a stop. We were no longer swaying, that much I could take comfort in.

Greg jumped from the driver's seat and opened the door. I sat up cautiously, taking stock of my traitorous stomach. The world was no longer spinning, so maybe I was feeling better.

"How you feeling honey?" Tina asked, sitting on the couch with me.

"Like something the cat wouldn't even drag in."

Greg reached his hand out to help me to my feet. "I was thinking maybe you should sit up front in the passenger seat. Maybe if you can see out the window it'll help the nausea. My mom used to get sick every time we drove to upstate New York, but she figured out if she rode up front the ride was tolerable. She also used to munch on crackers. She said that helped too."

"I guess it's worth a try," I said, shrugging. "I definitely don't want to arrive in Knoxville in a body bag." I stepped off the RV, happy to feel firm ground beneath my feet again. I was tempted to bend over and kiss the sidewalk, but I figured my traveling crew would second-guess my sanity.

Tina slung an arm across my shoulder. "We'll get you some Dramamine too. That should help."

I smiled at her meekly. She'd been friendly enough to me on social media, but I was surprised at how nice and truly personable she was. She oozed self-confidence, but there was a distinctive steely hardness to her attitude that screamed I'm nice until I'm not.

"Nicole, please let us know if there is anything we can do to help you feel better," Chelsea said, looking exceptionally troubled.

"Thank you. I'm sure I'll feel better soon. The crazy thing is I'm a ride junkie at theme parks. I've never gotten dizzy in my life, much less thrown up."

"I'm surprised I'm not tossing my cookies too," Michelle commented. "I can't step near a boat without getting seasick. My doctor gave me this before I left, just in case." She held up her arm to reveal a band around her wrist. "It's called a Sea-Band. It's supposed to work without drugs, but Tina's right. Dramamine should help."

Their concern was touching. At least I didn't have to feel embarrassed about my weakness. Here I'd been thinking this trip would be glamorous. Right. About as glamorous as my head in the toilet could be.

While Greg was filling the monstrous gas tank of the Beast, I loaded up on snacks I felt wouldn't upset my stomach and grabbed a few bottles of Dramamine. It was going to be a long tour.

"Everybody ready to go?" Greg asked, climbing into the driver's seat.

"No. Yes. Are you sure you can't just drop me off at an airport? Better yet, maybe I can take a taxi to the airport."

He smiled, reaching over to pat my hand which was clutching the armrest. I took his suggestion and set myself up in the front passenger seat. "Did you take the Dramamine?"

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road ahead as the vehicle roared to life. I had to admit, the view from the front was kind of cool. Sitting up high like this, I could see everything.

"What about snacks? Did you get some Ben and Jerry's Half Baked?"

"Was there anything about me Olivia didn't tell you?" I appreciated his concern, but I wasn't sure I was comfortable being an open book.

"All part of the job," he said, slowly steering the RV past the gas pumps and back onto the main road. I waited apprehensively for the dizziness to return, but I seemed to be holding myself together. I didn't want to get excited too soon. The real truth would come once we reached the mountains. If I could make it through those winding rounds, I could survive anything.

"Hanging in there so far?" Greg asked, merging onto the highway.

I nodded, waiting with bated breath. The wind hadn't let up, so the RV still swayed, but I wasn't feeling sick yet.

"Told you it would work," he gloated.

"I can deal with this. I may not get any work done while the Puke Factory is in motion, but at least my parents won't have to go coffin shopping." We drove past a pasture covered in a blanket of snow. One lone cow stood near the fence, foraging for any grass it could find. Poor guy. Standing out in the cold eating frozen grass couldn't be fun. "So, are you going to miss the city while we're gone?"

"I'll tell you what I won't miss, driving this monster in the city," he answered, patting the steering wheel. "It's much easier out here on the open road, but to answer your question—yes and no. I'll miss the daily happenings at work, but I'm hoping this trip will earn me my stripes. I've been doing all the grunt work since I got hired after graduation last year. This tour could be the biggest opportunity of my life. My days of being a lackey might be over. If I don't screw it up."

I twisted in my seat to look at him, but the motion made my stomach flip. Turning slowly back around to face the window, I picked up my Sprite, swallowing a tentative drink.

"You okay?" Greg asked.

I took a few more sips of my drink to keep my mouth from going dry. "Just trying to get a handle on this. It's a learning curve. I need to keep my eyes straight ahead. I'm not trying to be rude, just so you know. As for your comment, I'm sure they don't think of you as a lackey."

"Definitely keep your eyes straight ahead. If you do need to hurl, better it goes that way rather than in my lap," he said, pointing to the dashboard.

"I'll do my best." I smiled but kept my focus on the windshield.

"Believe me. They make no secret of the fact that I'm a lackey or a grunt or an intern, depending on who's giving me orders. It's all good though. Everyone has to start at the bottom. It's the way things are run in the legit world. The important thing is not staying at the bottom too long. Now is my time to prove my worth. Isn't that how you started?"

I mulled over his words. I guess you could say he was right. When I started as an indie author, I was less than a grunt. I was a nobody who knew nothing. That was the option I chose. During the past year I'd been able to skip some steps and advance my career quicker than I anticipated, but that didn't diminish all the hard work it took me to get here. "You're right," I said, agreeing with him. "We're all grunts at one point or another. It makes us who we are. I can tell you I made some colossal mistakes in the beginning though."

He smirked. "I bet my mistakes top yours. One time I was supposed to mail out advanced reader copies for Jamie Lynn and I forgot to put the book in half the envelopes."

"Um, wait. How do you miss empty envelopes? Were you high or something?" He didn't answer right away but sat with a smirk on his face as he stared straight ahead. "Well?"

"Not high exactly, just slightly hung over, and I didn't say the envelopes were empty. Some of them just happened to contain the wrong book."

"Oh lord. What book did you replace it with?"

"A book called Fit at Fifty: A Guide to Middle-Aged Health. I'll never forget that title as long as I live. About a week after I sent them out we started getting tweets from all these bloggers who had been expecting Jamie's book. It was the final book in the Broken series, so everybody was hyped for it. The publisher was so pissed. I almost lost my job if not for Chelsea, who talked them out of it."

I laughed at the expression on his face. I kind of felt bad for doing so, but the way he told the story tickled me. Even he couldn't deny it was one of those colossal mistakes that in hindsight you couldn't help but crack up over. We spent mile after mile trading stories about our screwups. Greg was easy to talk to, much like I found with Alec, which helped temporarily fill the ache in my heart.

The sun was beginning to set as Greg merged off the highway just outside of Lexington, Virginia. We were a little more than halfway to our first destination, but everyone seemed ready to get off the Love Bus for the evening. I had managed to keep my nausea in check, so I didn't anticipate a night of hugging the toilet in my hotel room.

"Looks like you could use a drink," Monica laughed, hitching her bag onto her shoulder.

"Would you think less of me if I said hell yeah?"

"Fuck no. That makes you my kind of girl."

After Greg and Chelsea checked us in, the entire group met at the small lounge adjacent to the hotel for dinner and a few drinks, but none of us made a late night of it. As a matter of fact, Michelle and I were in our room and asleep by ten.

The next morning I woke up feeling pretty good, which I was thankful for considering my inauspicious start the day before. I made sure to stock up with a plethora of snacks and took a Dramamine during breakfast. I still felt nervous, taking my spot in the front passenger seat, but all I could do was hope for the best.