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“Sounds like it’s going to be a great economic boost for San Diego.”
“We appreciate it,” the driver says. He pulls into the valet of the hotel, which is connected to the center where our writers conference is. While I process the payment, he gets my bags out of the trunk and hands them to one of the bellhops there.
“Thank you,” I tell him as I hand him a cash tip.
“Enjoy your stay.”
After I check in, I tell the bellhop which room I’m staying in and send Basha a text to say I’m on my way up. After a quick elevator ride, Basha’s squealing and hugging me.
“I’ve missed the hell out of you.”
“We saw each other every day.”
“Video chat doesn’t count.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I tip the bellhop and then flop back on the bed.
“Nope, get up and come see this view.” Basha tugs on my good arm and pulls me toward the window. We have a view of the pool area. The large pool is split into two, with one side being sandy and the other like any other pool. There are very few people down there.
“It looks magical.”
“Do you want to go down there? Since it’s a weekday, we don’t need a reservation.”
“I should really work.”
“I should too, but we can do that while we’re down there. Come on, change and we’ll head down.”
The offer is too good to pass up. We change into our swimsuits, and I put on a summer dress as a cover up. I had to dig deep in my closet back at my parents to find some summer clothes for this trip. I wasn’t expecting such high temperatures, but this abnormal heatwave is definitely welcome.
Basha gives the young man at the booth our room number. He tells us where we can find towels and when he sees our laptops, tells us where we can find outlets if we need them.
“He’s cute,” Basha says, earning an eye roll from me. She’s smitten with Cameron Simmons, even though she confided in me that she only sees him as a friend. Nothing wrong with having friends in your life, that’s for sure.
If Alex and I can’t find our way back to each other, I hope we at least end up being friends. Although, I know that can be tricky. Once you cross the line from friends to lovers, it’s hard to go back, especially when there are feelings there. He may not want to put up with my insecurities though. Why would someone, who could literally have anyone, want to put up with someone second-guessing him and their relationship all the time?
Basha and I find a couple of chaises and spread out. With the stupid cast still on, I’m limited, but am able to read. Before I left my parents, I printed out all the submissions authors have sent for their fifteen minutes with me this weekend. They’re going to pitch their story, and I need to figure out in that time slot if we want to continue talking or not. It’s like speed dating for editors and authors.
At some point, Basha and I order lunch, including some cocktails, and reapply our sunscreen. I write as many questions as I can on the manuscripts in illegible handwriting and wish this damn cast was off. I should’ve made an appointment at the doctor’s office in Buffalo and had it removed. But no, I’m a good patient and listened to the doctor in Portland. My arm feels totally fine . . .famous last words.
* * *
At the endof the conference, the keynote speaker congratulates everyone on a successful weekend. I met with over thirty authors and have asked for full manuscripts from twelve of them. I’ll be grateful if I get six signed to a contract. I call that success, except for the challenge of getting them on the books with release dates.
Basha and I have a spa day today. She booked us for massages at an off-site location. We stand outside, in the heat, waiting for our rideshare to show up when a black limo stops in front of the valet.
“Who do you think that is?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Lifestyles of the rich and famous,” she sighs. “What I wouldn’t give to ride around town in that.”
“Same,” I say.
The driver steps out and comes toward us. “Kelsey Sloane?”
I swallow hard, look at Basha, who focuses on the car, and then I look at the driver. “Uh . . . yes?”
“Come with me, please.”
He motions for me to walk ahead, but my feet are firmly cemented to the ground. Basha nudges me forward and my steps falter. “What is this?”
