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“Just… talking to myself.”
She wanted to ask why Tiffany was even here, but she didn’t bother. It didn’t matter. Plus, she had a pretty good idea.
The snobby woman wouldn’t let one last chance go by to mock Tessa without taking it.
Yes, she was that petty. She’d absolutely wake up early, drive to the senior center, and scout for Tessa just to get in one or two more snide comments before her chance vanished forever.
Tessa reminded herself that soon it wouldn’t matter.
California was just a couple of days away. She could almost hear the waves of the Pacific lapping at the shore and feel the sunshine raining down on her right now.
“I need to be going,” she told Tiffany. “Got to catch my bus.”
Tiffany laughed. “Traveling by Greyhound. I can’t even imagine.”
“It’ll be an adventure. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”
The other woman stepped right in Tessa’s path. She opened her mouth, as if about to speak, but only sighed and then stepped aside.
“Thank you. I’ll see you around, Tiffany.”
Tessa was walking away when she heard Tiffany call out, “You know you won’t make it out there. You’ll come crawling back to this crappy little town!”
Was there any point in arguing with Tiffany? Did it matter? Tessa kept walking as she shook her head.
Who cares what she thinks? Why waste time arguing with someone who was bitter enough to verbally ambush someone as they set out to start a new life?
Anyway, Tessa didn’t have any time to waste.
That bus was going to pull out one way or another, and she was going to be on it.
She hurried down the jagged, cracked sidewalk and soon the bus terminals came into view. Beyond them, in the distance, were the looming stacks from the factories, their perennial black smoke curling into the air.
A smile turned her lips up. She didn’t mind the view this time.
In fact, she drank it in.
She’d never forget home. She would always remember where she came from. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy building a new life.
A new life that was just around the corner.
A new life in California…
Chapter Two
“Which tux?” Damon Drake asked, holding an option in either hand.
He was standing in the giant walk-in closet of his luxurious Hollywood mansion. His girlfriend and Little, Lissa Keller, was leaning against one of the built-in chest of drawers, staring down at her phone.
Barely looking up, she said, “Right one.”
He chuckled. “Do you even know which ones I’m holding?”
After finishing whatever she was tapping on her phone, she eyed him again. “We need to talk.”
Damon knew the look in her beautiful blue eyes. It was a serious look, one that conveyed the depth of the subject she wished to discuss. She’d given that same look in several movies, and with her being a world-class actress, Damon knew the audience bought it every time.
But this wasn’t a movie and Lissa wasn’t acting.
