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Chapter Three
Sloane
“Sloane,” Dove called.
“Where the hell have you been?” I laughed. I struggled not to drop the twenty books in my arms.
Dove held up an empty shot glass and plastered a loopy smile on her face. “I was in Shot Row.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Over in that corner,” she flailed her arm behind her, “your author people are handing out shots like they are shots.” She stopped and closed her eyes. “Candy. Passing out like candy.”
“Girl,” I laughed. “How are you going to help me get all of these books back to our room when you can’t walk a straight line?” I had already made one trip back to the room with a load of books, and I had at least two more trips to make.
“We’ll get the wagon,” Dove chirped.
“We’re not allowed to have wagons in here, Dove.” I was not about to break the rules and get kicked out of the signing before I had all of my books.
“I’ll pull it to the door, and we can load it up from there.” She looped her arm around my shoulders, and I could smell the Fireball on her breath. “Jaime Russell is my new best friend. Super nice, and she gave me three shots of Fireball.”
“Good, honey,” I laughed. I couldn’t be mad at Dove. I was glad she was having a good time, though I wished she could have waited to have a good time until we got my books back to the room. The signing was winding down, and I needed to get my butt moving.
“Do you think I could take a nap before dinner?” She laid her head on my shoulder and leaned heavily on me. “I’s tired, Sloane.”
Lordy.
“Let’s head up to the room, and you can lie down while I get the rest of my books,” I sighed. My helper was about to be down for the count in a few short minutes.
We made it to the elevators and up to the room, where Dove promptly flopped onto the bed. “Just give me five minutes, and then I’ll help you,” she slurred.
I stacked more books on the dresser and grabbed the wagon beside my bed.
Dove’s light snoring drifted around me, and I knew I would be on my own for the rest of the night. Hopefully, Dove would rally in a couple of hours, but she was out like a light right now.
“And then there was one,” I muttered.
At least with the wagon, I should be able to get everything back up to the room in one trip.
The signing was still winding down, and I was thankfully allowed to keep my wagon right by the entrance and load it up.
There was a line to get on the elevators, and it took me ten minutes before I was the next in line to get on. Most people had given up and either took the stairs or decided to go get a drink and try later.
I couldn’t take the stairs because of the wagon, and I didn’t have any more money with me to grab a drink and wait for the crowd to die down.
“Took them long enough to get our rooms ready,” a man behind me muttered.
“Eh, they’re obviously busy. At least they had rooms for us,” another man sighed.
I glanced over my shoulder and was shocked to see two men with motorcycle cuts on.
Holy crap.
I snapped my head back around to the elevators and tried not to hyperventilate.
This had to be a dream. I must have fallen asleep, and I was dreaming.
