Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“So am I,” he replied patiently for the dozenth time. “Though I was expecting a small-town welcome parade, or the key to the city. I was definitely hoping for people to be square dancing instead of sitting around listening to Tom Petty on the jukebox and munching nachos. I’ve seen a lot of movies, and they all lied about small towns.”
“They always lie. And this is not a small town.”
“But it is. From what I saw on my drive here, this part of Texas is nothing but a series of small towns bordered by strip malls. You just call them suburbs and neighborhoods.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong about that. Or the fact that he’d seen a lot of movies. So had I. We’d each actually seen several of them from the other side of the camera. I always thought it was why we’d clicked the way we did at that book convention ten years ago. We were both latchkey kids of the film industry. Though admittedly, we’d come at the experience from very different angles.
Where I grew up with a mom who pinched pennies to make a four-to-six-month paycheck last an entire year, Charles Robin Schneider IV was born wealthy, connected, and inexplicably put out about it. His family had had greater expectations for their son than writing bad, straight-to-streaming science fiction movies for truckloads of cash under the name Chick Martin. He’d responded to those expectations by officially changing his name to piss them off.
Despite his rebellion, he was still a product of that upbringing. He spent money too easily and had gone through an impressive list of red-carpet-ready men in his never-ending search for The One. He also expected life to work out for him in a way I honestly couldn’t relate to, but he was a great friend who’d been in my corner from the moment we met.
He was the only one from my old friend group who’d stayed in touch with me over the last few years. He’d never stopped calling. When I was sick, he demanded “proof of life” Zoom calls, where we’d eat popcorn and gossip or watch a movie together, adding humorous commentary throughout, just because. I’d given him a dozen outs, but thankfully, he’d never taken me up on any of them. I was incredibly lucky to have him in my life.
“I think the players are starting to gather,” Chick said in a low-pitched voice, practically vibrating with excitement. “I’ve seen photos, but is that your brother-in-law in the bright-pink shirt over there?”
I followed his subtle head tilt. “The one and only.”
“Those pictures don’t do him justice.”
“Pictures of math nerds the size of linebackers rarely do,” I said dryly. “No photo can truly encapsulate the aura of a man who’s fanatical about Tolkien but hates Harry Potter because ‘children saving the world isn’t realistic.’ But tiny hobbits? No problem.”
Chick chuckled. We’d had this conversation before. “I already love him.”
“Wait until you meet Lucy. On your left.”
He was heading right toward us with a red beard and a smile. “Hey there, little sister.”
“My hurricane hero.”
He buffed his nails on his black bowling shirt. He must have a collection of those in every available color. “I do love being appreciated. Are you about done yet? We tried to time it right, but I haven’t seen Gene this impatient since the night before he married Morgan. It can’t be healthy for him to get this worked up at his age.”
“You’re the same age.”
“Not where it counts.” He winked and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We’re putting a few tables together and we’ll need a couple of pitchers of beer, some nachos, a personal pizza and an order of plain tortillas with that green salsa Rick loves.”
“You got it. Let me get those orders in and I’ll hand over the reins to Patty. I should be finished by the time Wade and the others get here. This is my friend Chick, by the way.”
Lucy’s grin was all charm as he shook Chick’s hand and welcomed him to Texas. “I heard you were coming.” He sent a sideways look my way. “I heard about Bernadette too.”
“I thought you might have.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re kicking over a hornet’s nest, woman. I mean, I like your style and I’m one hundred percent on your side. But don’t tell my boys.”
Chick chuckled. “That’s some heavy CYA you’re throwing down, but your secret’s safe with us.”
I turned in the food order to Frank, the young cook manning the tiny kitchen, then sent a text to Bernie and Wade to hurry them along before pulling the pitchers of beer. By the time I’d deposited them on the tables, along with a tray of glasses, the food was up in the kitchen window. Three trays. There was no way carrying them all at once would end well.