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“I needed a break and some time off. Everything in the last few years had been crazy. I’m atAmerican Profilenow. Well, it’s my publication.”
“Impressive.”
“We try.”
We? Who the hell was “we”?American Profilewas an operation of one—me. I did all of it, from the marketing to the ad sales, to the content. I didn’t have a staff and didn’t plan on having one. The only outside help I got came from freelance photographers I hired to take photos of my subjects, and even that only happened sporadically. I faltered as nervousness swamped me. No matter how much success the newsletter had, and no matter how many readers, I still had a complex about the publication, mainly because it was an upstart publication that came from new media. Legacy media still had more legitimacy. Or at least, still felt like it did.
“I try,” I corrected. “I try.”
“I’m sure you do,” Lila replied. “Anyway, let’s hope this gets started soon, right? They want me on the show at noon if this crap wraps up by then.” She shot Ken a wide-eyed look. “Which feels optimistic.”
“I’m sure it will be interesting.”
They fell into a conversation about elements they needed for their upcoming assignment, and I took a few steps, moving away from them toward a few other journalists who had joined the platform. We exchanged pleasant greetings and made small talk about the weather, and I was glad none of them asked me about my newsletter. Talking about it too much would only remind me of the major inconvenience needing reconciliation—that I’d slept with my interview subject and was desperate to do it again. Three times with Landon wasn’t enough for me, and every cell in my body knew it.
How the heck was I going to deal with that? How in the world was I going to make sure my readers didn’t pick up on it?
The triumphant symphony of the ten-piece orchestra located near the lobby entrance began, knocking the concern away. As I focused on the day’s events ahead, I reminded myself I still had work to do. The first night and then yesterday’s tours had been interesting, so I knew I already had good material for the profile. But I was eager for more and determined not to let my emotionalneedsoverride my journalist instincts.
I pulled out my notebook and began capturing the environment, the vibe, and the interest in my writing.
It was a long day. This speech, that tour, this photo, that reception. One after another after another. It all made me feel exhausted, and I wondered if Landon felt that way too. If he did, he didn’t show it—he was about as energetic and as charismatic as anyone who had slept well the night before.
And that somehow made him more attractive.
If that was even possible.
“How did it go?” Mauricio asked when it was all over and I was back in the car.
“Great. The crowd seemed enthralled.”
Mauricio drove onto the entrance ramp of the highway. “Landon should be pleased. “
“The crew fromAll the Questionscertainly fawned all over him. I’m sure he’ll get some positive coverage out of them.”
“More media there than I expected. I think I saw news trucks from every city in the state.”
“It’s a big thing for Florida,” I mused. “Another major company here and a few billion dollars added to the economy.”
“A few billion every year.”
I reached for one of the water bottles tucked into the back pocket of the passenger seat. The cool liquid was refreshing, and I was thirstier than I realized. Mauricio slapped his hand on the steering wheel. “That reminds me.” He shifted around the front console and lifted a white envelope. “Landon wanted me to give this to you.”
A shiver raced up my spine as I took the envelope from his grip. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He turned up the radio and I used the natural break in conversation to open what he’d given me. Inside was a white piece of paper scrawled with a simple message—Meet me on the veranda. Nine thirty. Don’t be late.
I don’t know how many times I read the message, but by the time we arrived back at Landon’s estate, I was wet from anticipation.
