“I think you should consider buying a new vehicle,” he said as we hit the beltline and headed toward Whynot, a forty-five-minute drive that would soon turn quite rural.
“Why?” I asked with a grin.
“Because I’m not updated on my tetanus,” he snapped, and I couldn’t help but laugh. He shot me a glare. “Most New York Uber drivers have seat warmersand bottled water. You have beef jerky.”
“It’s called character.” I chuckled, and then to his dismay, I reached into the center console and did indeed pull out a stick of beef jerky for him. He waved it off and I tucked it away.
We’re almost to town and I’m sort of excited to see my agent’s reaction to small-town life. Derek Millard is a born-and-raised New Yorker, attended college at NYU, and I’m not sure he’s ever done an outdoor activity in his life. He loves the concrete jungle and the bustle of city life as much as I hate it.
Derek groans and leans his head back against the seat, designer sunglasses perched on his nose. His hair’s perfectly styled, his clothes are probably worth more than the truck’s tires, and he’s going to stick out like a sore thumb in town.
“So,” he says, lifting and then scrolling through his phone. “I checked your itinerary on the way down. The signing in Raleigh is officially sold out.”
“Already?” I ask, glancing at him. I’d given him permission to book a small event at one of the Raleigh bookstores. He convinced me this was an easy way to break out of my anonymity, but now I’m second-guessing it.
He grins, smug. “Three hundred tickets. And that’s just pre-sale. They’ve had to open a waitlist. You’re going to have people lined up around the block for a chance tomeet the mysterious S. P. Rochelle.”
“I’m frankly terrified,” I admit. I don’t expect sympathy from him though. His job is to push me forward now that I’ve committed.
“It’s a good kind of terrifying. The kind of terrifying that builds empires.”
“Can’t wait,” I mutter.
“Relax. I hired two assistants to help with crowd control and a local PR firm to handle logistics. I’ll be right by your side. You just have to show up, smile, and pretend you like people.”
“That’s your definition of easy?”
“It’s mine, yes,” he says, flashing me a grin. “I’ve got a photographer lined up to come to Whynot to do photos. We’re going to brand you from the ground up as a small-town hottie living in a fantasy world. It will be epic and the women will eat it up.”
The words tighten my stomach. “I still can’t believe it’s happening.”
“Oh, it’s happening,” Derek says cheerfully. “All of your books will be reformatted to add your picture, the website will be updated, and we’re going to have to get you going on social media. Facebook, Instagram, TikTok.”
I groan. “Oh, for God’s sake.”
“You’ll need to post about personal stuff like your creative process.”
“My creative process involves bourbon and procrastination.”
“Then lie creatively.” He gives me a side-eye. “That’s literally your job.”
We fall quiet for a bit, the hum of the road filling the truck. We pass a field of tall pines and rolling farmland. Derek’s gaze drifts out the window, unimpressed. “Do you people ever get bored out here?”
“Constantly,” I say. “We just do it quietly.”
He snorts. “The silence is eerie. I haven’t gone ten minutes without hearing sirens or horns in years. My therapist says I might have an addiction to noise.”
“You and peace don’t mix well,” I say.
“Peace doesn’t pay my rent,” he retorts.
As we reach the outskirts of Whynot, we roll past white fences, wide porches, the occasional tractor puttering down a side road. All the things that always make me feel like I’m coming home, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. TheWelcome to Whynotsign leans a bit to the left, but it’s freshly painted and framed by hanging baskets of petunias.
Derek peers out the window, intrigued despite himself. “So, this is it? The famous Whynot?”
“This is it,” I say, slowing as we hit the main stretch of town. “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.”
He does a slow scan. “You weren’t kidding. One diner, one general store, one traffic light. Is this placelegally allowed to exist without a Starbucks?”
