“Okay. Take me to your leader.”
WE STEP INTO WHATis clearly meant to be an air lock as a recording plays above our heads, “Prepare for a full-body decontamination.” I make eye contact with Finn, and he gives an overly pained grimace, like he already regrets agreeing to come inside with me—but then he grips my hand in mock solidarity and I can tell he’s secretly enjoying this ridiculous pit stop more than he wants to let on. The “decontamination” ends up being a blast of AC before the automatic doors open into the kitschiest roadside gift shop I’ve ever seen.
A life-sized display has a family of pearlescent gray aliens who seem to be meeting a family of cavemen. One of the adult-sized aliens is wearing a T-shirt—and nothing else—with a bowl of round green alien heads that reads WE COME IN PEAS.To the left there is a rack of the same shirt.
“How stoked do you think Sybil would be to find this place?” Finn asks, still holding my hand, but looser now, our fingers gently tangling together.
“This place definitely has Sybil vibes,” I agree. All I can think about though is our hands intertwined. Anyone walking by would assume we’re a couple.
Smoke from a fog machine cascades along the floor from one of the other rooms. We walk through an archway wallpapered in Bubble Wrap and iridescent cellophane into a room filled with alien costumes. I pluck a headband with two rhinestone-encrusted googly eyes bobbing above it, and place it on Finn’s head.
Finn turns around to take stock in the mirror. “More sparkles than I’m used to.”
“I think it suits you. You look like a beautiful alien princess.”
“Do you think Sybil will let me wear it during the ceremony?”
“We wouldn’t want you to outshine Sybil on her big day,” I joke, but then my stomach clenches remembering Sybil’s drunken worry that her gown didn’t have enough sparkles. “Maybe we can get it for Sybil. She was worried she didn’t have enough glitz in her wedding outfit.”
“That’s probably why she headed to Vegas. To pick up a pound or two of sequins.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Finn takes off the headband. “I’ll go settle up,” he says. “Do you need anything else?”
“I need this hot sauce,” I say, turning toward a floor-to-ceiling display of hot sauce bottles.
“How can you eat that stuff?”
“Asks the man who just drank twenty ounces of undiluted kale juice?”
“That doesn’t physically hurt me.”
“I can assure you that nothing on this wall”—I motion to the hundreds and hundreds of hot sauce bottles—“would hurt me as much as consuming that much kale in one sitting.”
I’m trying to decide between a ghost pepper sauce with a pirate zombie on the label and a Carolina Reaper–based sauce, when my phone vibrates. It’s Liz.
“Aren’t you supposed to be heading to a networking event right now?” I wedge the phone against my cheek and shoulder to keep my hands free as I clink through more hot sauces.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in LA right now?” my sister tosses back.
“How do you know I’m not in LA?”
“Have you been online recently?”
“Not really. I’ve been tied up with… wedding stuff.”
“Oh,haveyou? I didn’t realize Sybil was getting married to a breakfast taco.”
I manage to hang on to both hot sauce bottles, but the phone tumbles to the ground. “Shit.” Returning the phone to my ear, I say, “How could you know about that?”
“Um, because it’s trending. You and #burritogate are all overLovedByUniverse right now. Aaron’s expression when the burrito hits his face is what memes are made of.”
I groan, realizing once again that I’ve underestimated the level of interest that anything related to the show garners from its fan base. I watched all of Nikki’sLovedByepisodes for emotional support, but I tapered off after her season was over. Liz, on the other hand, has been a die-hardLovedByfan since she was thirteen. Every time she runs into Nikki, she grills her over what it was actually like to be on the show.
I pull out my phone and cringe when I see the video. I guess Finn was right—Ididgo Emma-Hulk. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Nikki is going to be so pissed. For the first time since my run-in with Aaron, I regret acting impulsively. I’d wanted to protect Nikki, but all I’ve done is thrust her back into the spotlight and back to vulnerability, which I know is the last thing she wants. Then an even worse thought occurs to me. “Do you think Jamie would have seen it? Has it gone super wide?”
Liz considers for a moment. “Probably not. I’m a lot deeper in theLovedByweeds than most people.” I breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t need Jamie getting wise to the fact that something is going on. As far as he knows, I’m having a pamper sessionalongside his fiancée, who is supposedly in the hotel spa and not halfway to Vegas. “Also,” Liz continues, “I couldn’t help but notice someone tall, dark, and handsome in the video with you. What’s his deal? He looks so familiar. Is he fromLovedBytoo?”
