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She smiles. “Of course, sweetie.”
It takes a few minutes before I feel well enough to stand, wandering over to the sink to rinse out my mouth. As the water runs with a loud hiss, my mind is in overdrive. It doesn’t occur to me until after we’ve left the restaurant and gone our separate ways for the night that I didn’t ask how Hunter knew to show up when he did, just as the men were attacking my mother. What does his tattoo mean? Why does it look just like the JWC logo? How did all these things come together?
Ask your mother.
What is he hiding?
Chapter 32
Tip #32: Live audiences are the worst.
HUNTER
There’s nothing I hate more than interviews. I prefer being behind the camera rather than in front. Plus, the questions hosts ask these days are surface level at best. There’s never any time in the short interviews to get into the nitty-gritty. Sure, it’s for the sake of marketingJuliet After Romeo, but still. I have to endure an hour-long sit down, then I can be on my merry way.
Eden’s seated next to me in the back of the private car. She looks a bit green in the face.
I place my hand on her knee. The driver’s got the privacy screen up, so I’m not worried about anyone seeing. “Are you feeling alright? How was dinner with Annabeth?”
“It was… good.”
I can hear the hesitation in her tone. “Only good?”
“It was fine.”
Turning to look at her, I can see she’s not being totally honest with me. “Eden.”
She smiles, brushes me off. “Look, we’re here!”
Our vehicle pulls up to the private entrance of the building near the back, offering us an unobstructed path into the office ofEntertainment Weekly. A young intern is there to greet us, showing us to the elevator with a chipper skip in her step.
“How was the drive?” the intern asks.
Small talk has never been my specialty, but Eden doesn’t seem to mind.
“It was good. A little jammed up on the highway, but what else is new.”
“I know, right? I’m lucky I can just bike everywhere.”
We’re shown to a lavishly decorated set, a massive audience waiting in anticipation just beyond the wings. The host, Alexia Erwin, is already out on stage, speaking animatedly about some viral puppy dog video that’s been making the rounds.
I’m given a lav mic to attach to my lapel. It isn’t long before I’m swarmed by a small team of makeup artists who busy themselves smoothing my hair, blotting my skin, adding a bit of Chapstick to my lips.
Beside me, Eden giggles. “It must be nice getting the VIP treatment wherever you go.”
“It gets old after a while, trust me.”
I can tell she’s hiding something. Eden doesn’t have to tell me outright, I just know. It’s in the way she blinks twice as fast, the way she keeps swallowing something back. Her forehead is sweaty, her cheeks flushed.
“Bring her a chair,” I instruct one of the nearby production assistants.
“Hunter,” she protests, “that really isn’t necessary.”
“Now.”
The PA nods. “Of course, Mr. Stride.”
“Sit and take it easy,” I tell Eden over my shoulder. “I’ll try to get this over with as quickly as possible.”
