And finally, and most importantly, she didn’t need to solve it all today.
She stood, smoothed her jacket, and caught her reflection in the small mirror by the door. Her eyes were bright. Her smile came easily. That said something.
“It’s all okay,” she murmured to herself, not unkindly. “You’ve got this.”
And for the first time since Veronica had arrived in LA and offered her this job, she believed it.
By the time Reese realized the cactus mural on the hotel room wall hadcrowns, she was already on her second sparkling water. She was a party animal tonight, it seemed.
But they were everywhere—painted across the turquoise wall behind Delaney’s bed, tall and squat and lopsided, each one topped with a crooked little gold crown like they’d all been quietly knighted. The longer Reese stared, the more convinced she became that one of them was smirking at her.
“This one,” she said, pointing, “knows my secrets.”
Delaney, stretched out across the bed with her booties kicked off, and her socks aggressively mismatched, didn’t even look up from her phone. “That’s King Prickles. He judges everyone.”
Cassidy snorted from the floor, where she was leaning back against the couch, nursing a soda and stealing popcorn straight out of the bowl Marissa held in her lap. “You’re projecting.”
“I amnot,” Reese said. “Look at his face.”
Marissa, curled into the armchair that looked more decorative than functional, tilted her head. “He does look smug.”
“Thank you,” Reese said.
Delaney finally glanced up. “He’s a solid cactus. Probably has healthcare and a 401(k).”
“Does Italy even have cacti?” Reese asked, squinting. “I’ve never seen one. This is weird.”
“Of course it does, especially in the southern regions,” Marissa said automatically. They all swiveled in awe of her very specific knowledge. “What? I’m a proud Italian. You know this.”
“I don’t think you’ve told us enough. Again, please?” Marissa threw a throw pillow that smacked Delaney square on the cheek. She didn’t even flinch. Reese wanted to be just like her.
Somewhere behind them, the ceiling fan clicked rhythmically, one uneven sound per rotation.
Cassidy nudged Reese’s ankle with her foot. “For the record, my room hasnoneof this personality.”
“That’s tragic,” Marissa said. “This room has lived.”
“This room has opinions,” Reese corrected.
The day had been a long one, and though Reese craved time with Sloane, she was grateful for the chance to unwind with The Starting Grid.
They’d been in town long enough now that the edges had softened. No more jet lag, no more frantic unpacking. Just the quiet hum of being midseason—press done for the day, no simulator sessions, nothing urgent pulling at Reese’s attentionfor the first time in hours. And after the horrible incident with Danielle, Reese just wanted to hide out and unwind.
She leaned back on the couch beside Cassidy, letting her shoulder rest there without thinking about it. Someone had put music on, something lazy with a beat that didn’t demand anything.
This was the part Reese always loved. The in-between, where no one expected her to perform. Her ever-present smile could take a break, and she could just … be.
Delaney’s phone buzzed on the nightstand.
She ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Reese felt the shift before Delaney reached for it. Yep. There was a subtle tightening in the room. Marissa stilled. Cassidy’s eyes flicked over.
Delaney frowned and picked it up. Her expression didn’t collapse or spike. It just sharpened into concentration.
“What?” Reese said. “What’s with the look?”
