I give him a weak smile. “You promise?”
He pulls me toward him and presses his lips to mine. “Bye, babe. I love you.”
He lets me go and walks off, straight out the door to the sidewalk. I’m so shocked by his abrupt exit that I stand there a moment, thinking he’ll come back, but he doesn’t. I race out the door, getting bumped on both sides as people race past me to the taxi line.
“Axl!” I yell, but he’s gone.
He was trying to make this easier on me. A quick goodbye instead of dragging it out. Maybe that’s better, but it doesn’t feel like it. I wanted more time. I wasn’t ready to tell him goodbye.
It’s not really goodbye. We’ll see each other again. This is just some time apart. This isn’t the end.
Axl and I promised each other we’d be together forever.
That promise is the only thing keeping me going.
The string of hope that’ll carry me through the hell that awaits.
Chapter 2
When I walk out of the airport, bright sunlight hits my eyes, making me squint. It’s not very sunny in New York, and on the days that it is, the sun is hidden by all the tall buildings.
Yanking my backpack over my shoulder, I walk toward what I think might be the place I’m being picked up.
“Rumor Bennet?” I hear a voice say.
Shielding my eyes from the sun, I look ahead and see a man walking toward me. He’s older, with white hair and really tan skin.
My uncle sent someone to pick me up? I should’ve known he’d do that. He’s too important to get me himself, or so he thinks. He’s such an ass. Actually, I’ve never met him, but sending a stranger to pick me up makes him an ass.
“I’m Rumor,” I say to the old guy. “Are you my driver?”
“I am.” He smiles and outstretches his hand. “Harley Jacobs. Welcome to California.”
“Thanks,” I mutter as he takes my backpack.
“It’s right this way.” He walks down to a shiny black sedan and pops open the trunk. He sets my backpack inside, then hurries over to open my door.
“I can get it,” I tell him.
“It’s part of my job,” he says, still with that huge smile. I wonder if smiling like that is also part of the job. Or maybe it’s a California thing. If you smiled like that in New York, they’d think you’re crazy.
“First time here?” Harley asks as he pulls the car away from the curb.
“Yeah,” I say, looking out at the palm trees that line the road.
“How long are you staying?”
I sigh. “A year.”
“You don’t sound too excited about it,” he says with a laugh.
“I’m not.” I watch as we pass some houses that look like they’re made out of concrete. They’re all really small and look identical.
“So how do you know Brock?” he asks, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
“I’m his niece.” I pause. “How doyouknow him?”
“I work for the studio. I’ve been Brock’s driver many times over the years for various events. When he requested I pick you up, he didn’t mention you were his niece.”
