“Text me the info,” I say. “I’ll meet you guys at the hotel.”
I grab a soda from a kiosk and I hang back near the baggage claim, keeping an eye on her. I feel a little bit like a stalker, but I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t want to hang out with me and I can’t make myself leave until I know she’s okay.
A girl about my age walks up to me, eyes wide and sparkling. “Are you Clay Summers? Will you take a picture with me?”
“I’m not that guy,” I say, taking a sip of my drink.
She frowns. “But you look just like him.”
“You’ve got the wrong guy.”
“But you’re wearing a Team Loco hoodie,” she says, refusing to let this go.
I shrug. “You wanna see my driver’s license?”
“Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Jett is my favorite anyway.”
When I glance back at Avery, she’s got one hand on her hip. The suitcases have all come and gone around the carousel and she hasn’t found hers yet. Another fifteen minutes go by and another set of luggage makes the rounds. Once again, her bag isn’t there. She looks frustrated, and then she takes her phone out of her back pocket and answers a call. I see her shake her head, and she looks even more annoyed.
I wait a little while longer, but then I’m really starting to feel like a stalker, so I decide to go say hello.
“Still waiting on your suitcase?” I ask.
Her eyes widen. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Just getting a drink,” I say, which is a bad lie because our plane landed half an hour ago.
“Clay!” Avery says, sounding like a stressed-out mom or something. “You’re supposed to be at the hotel!” She checks the time on her phone. “No wonder Marcus is pissed at me.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
She groans and then shoves at me with her hand. “Go! Go to the hotel. You’re supposed to be interviewed in like fifteen minutes.”
“I didn’t know that,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “You should really read the itinerary.”
Her phone rings again and this time I can hear Marcus on the other end. He sounds pissed. “I found him,” she says into the phone, giving me a glare. “He’s still at the airport but I’m putting him in a cab now. He’ll be there. I promise.”
“He better,” I hear Marcus say before he hangs up on her.
Avery’s nostrils flare. “You just love making my job harder, don’t you?”
“I wasn’t trying to,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “I didn’t realize I had PR crap already.”
“It’s pretty much nonstop while we’re here,” she says. “TV, magazines, photoshoots—the training camp is like the least of what you’re doing today. Now please go. Find a cab and pay him extra to drive fast.”
“You’re coming with me,” I say. “Let’s find your bag.”
“I’ll get there when I get there,” she says, shoving me again. “Just go. Please.”
I’m about to tell her I’m not going anywhere until I know she’s safe, but luckily I don’t have to. I spot her suitcase on another carousel across the way. It somehow got loaded on the wrong one. We get her bag and then head toward the doors, and I flag down a taxi fairly quickly.
“Can you drive super fast?” Avery asks the taxi driver.
“I’ll try,” he says, but he doesn’t sound very convincing.
I sit with Avery in the backseat. Her foot taps nervously on the floorboard, and she’s constantly looking at her phone as texts come in. Marcus calls her twice and she tells him we’re closer than we actually are.
