“—and how she has been searching for the perfect narrator for her book. You were right in a way before. I had no idea how all the recording works. But she told me how much I could make, and even more if I do recordings for book promos and whatnot. I guess I did a good job because other authors started contacting her for my information... anyways, here I am.”
“It sounds meant to be. But I still don’t understand why you have to move to LA for it. Aren’t you already recording at your home?”
“I do more than books. I’m actually waiting for a call back for an anime show.”
I nearly fall out of my seat. “Whaaat? That’s amazing, Tris.”
“I know. If you’d asked me two years ago what I’d be doing, this wouldn’t have even been on my radar.”
“So, this is more than a hobby?”
“It could be. To be honest, I don’t know why I’m not more confident about it.”
“Well, you should be. I had no idea you were so talented.”
He gives me a double take. “I’m waiting for the punchline.”
“This isn’t a joke—only a compliment. If voice acting is where your heart is at, then you should go for it.”
His brows furrow. “You think I should move to LA?”
My stomach drops at the question, just as it had done last night. Tristen no longer in Rocosa? Life wouldn’t be the same without him. Not seeing him across the street as he arrived or left for work. No more bumping into him at the cafe orlibrary. It doesn’t sit right to me. In fact the urge to scream at him to stay itches at the back of my throat.
He can’t leave me—I mean, Rocosa.
But who am I to crush his dream? Maybe he’s nervous and he only needs a gentle push into stardom.
“If it means you’d be happy, then yes. Go for it.”
Just saying it sours my stomach.
“Yeah?” His response is barely audible, his thumbs tapping the steering wheel. “It seems so far away.”
“Every year you travel to Florida to visit your mom and stepdad for the holidays. How is this different?”
He shrugs. “Because I know that’s temporary. It’s why I stayed in Rocosa when they asked me to move down there permanently with them. Florida doesn’t feel like home—like something is missing.”
“You could always take a trip to LA and get a feel for things.”
“Maybe. Want to go with me?” He smiles, but I catch the subtle clench of his jaw.
“Not sure I’d be much help. It’s hard for me to understand the West Coast appeal of the fancy lifestyle and bright cityscape when you can sit outside in Rocosa and feel like a millionaire when you’re surrounded by glittering starlight.”
“Oh, I get it.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
“You know Rocosa isn’t going anywhere. Come back and visit whenever you want.”
I reach over to pat his arm when the acidic smell of smoke hits my nostrils and sends me into panic mode. A thousand diagnostics flash in my head, some that could turn this motorhome into a lemon real fast.
“Tristen, pull over.Now.”
Chapter Twelve
REESE
The motorhome nearly flips with the speed in which Tristen jerks it to the shoulder. We bump and jostle over the rocky ground until we finally come to a complete stop safely in the brittle weeds.
“What is it?” he asks, glancing around.
