No one spoke, only listened.
“The bad news is there is not a single tour bus within a hundred-mile radius that can take us anywhere today. Not one. I’ve calledeveryone.”
A knot tightened in Andi’s stomach.
“The good news,” Rupert continued, as if sheer optimism might carry them through, “is that I’ve arranged alternative transportation.”
Duke’s head snapped up. “Define alternative.”
Rupert smiled thinly. “Vans. Three of them. They’ll be here in thirty minutes.”
“And the bus?” Mariella asked.
Rupert gestured helplessly toward the wounded vehicle. “We unload everything. All of it. Gear, bags, cases. We travel light, reorganize, and pray this doesn’t turn into a logistical nightmare.” He looked around at them. “It’s all hands on deck.”
Andi stared once more at the mountains and the ocean beyond, the stillness at odds with everything churning inside her.
They’d survived.
But nothing was going to be easy from here on out.
And whoever had sent that message was still out there—watching, waiting, patient enough to try again.
She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and turned back toward the group.
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
Los Angeles announced itself long before Andi and the rest of the gang stepped out of their van.
The air was warm and dry, tinged with exhaust and sunscreen, the sky an uninterrupted blue that felt almost artificial. Traffic crawled past in glossy lines of cars, horns punctuating the constant hum of the city. Somewhere nearby, music thumped—bass-heavy and insistent—layered with snippets of conversation, laughter, and the distant wail of sirens.
It was almost like the city itself performed, just like so many of its residents.
Mariella practically glowed as she swept her arm toward the hotel entrance. “This is going to be so much fun! Iloveit here!”
Andi managed a smile. “Of course, you do.”
Mariella was Ms. Hollywood—all glam and attention-loving and beautiful.
At least this was a nice distraction from their earlier near-death experience.
The hotel lobby opened up around them in a wash of glass and light—sleek lines, polished stone floors, and towering windows that let the sun pour in. Everything smelled faintly of citrus and expensive perfume. People moved with purpose, phones pressed to ears, sunglasses still perched on heads as if they might be needed again at any moment.
Check-in went smoothly—Rupert hovering nearby, miraculously calm, murmuring approval at the efficiency of the front desk staff and the prominence of the venue. They were handed key cards, schedules, and glossy folders stamped withlogos and times that made Andi’s head spin if she looked at them too long.
They had two events while they were here, in addition to media spots and obligations. In between, that left them a little time to continue looking for Gina from hundreds of miles away. But Andi would find a way.
They split up to drop bags in their rooms, Duke walking with her.
Andi had just reached her room when her phone buzzed.
Her friend was calling, the one she was supposed to meet.
She held up a finger, silently asking Duke to excuse her for a moment.
“Hey,” Andi answered.
“You made it.” Her friend’s voice sounded warm.
