“This is awfully last-minute,” Pamela said, “but your series was just brought to my attention. And may I say that I’m deeply impressed with your company, and how fast it’s grown in such a short period?”
“Thank you so much,” Tristan said. She’d given her heart and soul to her start-up, learning more about marketing, social media, click rates, search engine optimization and more over the last year and a half.
“I’m hoping that you or someone on your staff might be available this weekend.”
Tristan couldn’t help but smile at how Pamela assumed the magazine had a staff of more than one. Someday, she thought.
Pamela went on. “We’re hosting a singles convention with amazing workshops and keynote addresses, activities at the resort, delicious meals — the works. We believe that Single File attracts the exact demographic we’re targeting. This year’s event has about four hundred people registered, but we’re hoping it’ll grow to at least twice that size in the next year or two. Having someone like you write about it would be one of the best ways to spread the word.”
“What are you picturing?” Tristan asked, a subtle way, she hoped, of asking what the offer consisted of.
“We’ll put you up for three nights in one of our suites on the Palazzo side,” Pamela said. “Your press pass will give you free admittance to the entire convention, including all activities and meals.” It sounded almost too good to be true. “There is a slight catch, however.”
Of course there is. Tristan made sure her phone’s mic was pointed away so it wouldn’t pick up her sigh of disappointment.
“We’d need you here tomorrow morning at about ten o’clock, but I haven’t had time to get corporate approval to pay for a plane ticket. I don’t suppose there’s a way for you to drive here, is there? Where are you now?”
“I’m in Salt Lake.” Technically, within driving distance. Tristan chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to come up with a way to make this opportunity work. She’d planned to drive a rental car to Yellowstone on Sunday and stay with Denise, a high school friend. Then Tristan would fly to Seattle and crash on the sofa of Amanda, a cousin who worked for Amazon.
“Not too far, then,” Pamela said, sounding excited. “That’s great. So can we plan on you?”
“Let me look at my calendar...” Tristan said, trying to buy herself some time while frantically thinking through options.
She’d have to see if she could rearrange things so she could fly from Vegas to Idaho. She’d already bought her ticket from Idaho to Seattle; could she afford to buy a second? She’d have to fly; no way could she drive from Vegas to Yellowstone and stick to her schedule. Even if she could, that still left her with the little problem of getting to Vegas in the first place. She’d almost certainly need to go by car. Finding a seat on a plane this late would be impossible. So was paying for a third plane ticket. She had only a hundred dollars cash.
In another four weeks when some sponsorships came through, she’d have more wiggle room. Another six months, and she’d have a pretty healthy cash flow. But for now, she had to keep building the business on a shoestring while pretending she had millions. Not for the first time, she thought how glad she was that Alyssa had made a point of saying that she was treating Tristan to lunch. One less drain on her meager funds.
Money would be especially tight until she got paid by a big-name department store. When that check cleared in another week or so, her bank account would stop screaming for mercy. And if she could get to Vegas, the resort would put her up and feed her for several days.
“Miss Spencer?” Pamela said. “Are you still there?”
How long have I been thinking in silence? Tristan straightened in her seat and clicked the cap back onto her pen. “Oh, sorry. I’m here. And yes. I’ll be there.” The words just tumbled out. Now she had to find a way to make them true.
“Wonderful!” Pamela said, sounding equal parts excited and relieved — emotions Tristan could only hope to possess again soon. “When you know your schedule, be sure to pass it along, and I’ll have the convention information waiting for you on check-in at the reception desk in the Palazzo. You can check in as early as tonight.”
“Thanks. And will do,” Tristan said. Pamela said good-bye and hung up.
Now what? She stared at her phone screen as if it might provide the answers.
“Why so glum?” someone asked.
Tristan looked up to find Alyssa standing before her. “Hey, you!” Tristan stood, and the two friends hugged. It had been far too long since their last good talk. “When did you get here?”
“Right before you hung up wearing Atlas Face.”
That was what they called an expression of worry when you felt as if the weight of the world was on your shoulders. Back in college, they’d worn Atlas Face during finals and after breakups. That was before real life settled in and brought along much bigger concerns, like making enough money to pay for things like food.
“What’s wrong?” Alyssa asked.
“Let’s order and sit down first, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
They did, and after settling at a table with their drinks, Tristan explained the situation with as many details as she could bear to give without sounding like a loser. Alyssa had an actual full-time job with medical and dental benefits. Even a 401K. Tristan’s freelancing, entrepreneurial lifestyle felt juvenile in comparison. For the moment, it didn’t matter that more people had read Single File than the bestsellers published by Alyssa’s employer. By the time Tristan had finished her Reader’s Digest version of the story, their food had arrived.
“Have you checked craigslist or Buckle Buddies?” Alyssa asked, piercing her salad with a fork.
“I’ve heard too many scary stories about craigslist,” Tristan said, shaking her head. “I’ve never heard of Buckle Buddies, but it sounds like I could end up stuck in a car full of homicidal Teletubbies.#. If there’s a chance I’ll end up with a creeper who will leave my body in the middle of nowhere, I’ll pass.”
Alyssa chewed thoughtfully. She swallowed and said, “Okay, so craigslist is out. But I’ve used Buckle Buddies several times. And as you can see, I remained unharmed by furry monster puppets.” She held her arms out as if proving her point. “You and the other person decide on the arrangement — how much of the gas you pay for, how many suitcases you can bring along, planned pick-up and drop-off points, all of that. The app has security built into it — it tracks your locations, and if something goes wrong, the authorities can easily find your last known location.” Alyssa went on about the benefits of the app, including the ratings and chat features. She even gave tips of which keywords to use and avoid.
“That’s a possibility,” Tristan said, pocketing her phone. “But first, let’s eat and catch up. I need to hear all about your latest boyfriends.”
“What about your boyfriends?” Alyssa countered with a raised eyebrow.
Tristan grunted. “If there were any to talk about, you’d already know. The closest thing I’ve gotten was in the last workshop I went to — Comic Con speed dating.”
Alyssa sat back in her seat and laughed. “You didn’t.”
“Oh, I most certainly did,” Tristan said, laughing now too as she picked at her food. “And it was as delightful as it sounds.”
“Meet anyone interesting?”
“Interesting as in completely weird and therefore perfect material for the magazine? Then yes, I met plenty of interesting men.”
“And?” Alyssa pressed.
“And if you mean interesting as in potential dating material...” Tristan said, avoiding Alyssa’s hopeful gaze, “then almost.”
Alyssa set her fork down and leaned forward, arms on the table. “What was he like? Light hair? Dark hair?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Ginger?”
“Why are you obsessed with redheads?” Tristan said, chuckling. “But I don’t know what color his hair is.” She dreaded explaining, but there was nothing for it. “This was Comic Con. Everyone in
the room had on some kind of costume.”
“Even you?”
“Sort of. I did a Rey thing with my hair and stuff.” Tristan waved the detail away. “But my last speed date was dressed as Loki. And it was a really good costume.”
“Oh, swoon.” Alyssa meant it, too. They’d both crushed hard on Tom Hiddleston for years. He was even better than her ginger fantasies.
“I don’t know if that was his real hair.”
“He sounds miles better than the Nameplate Bandit.”
They rolled their eyes at the memory of the practical jokester who used to work with Alyssa and drive her crazy, constantly hiding her nameplate in random places. On Halloween, the Bandit came to the office party dressed as Loki, a sight that had almost ruined the very idea of Loki for Alyssa. Of course, Tristan had empathized with every bit of frustration Alyssa had because of her annoying coworker.
“Definitely better than the Bandit,” Tristan agreed.
Alyssa took a sip of her Diet Dr. Pepper. “Did you exchange numbers?”
“Didn’t get that far. The timer went off early, and next thing I knew, people were rearranging chairs, and he’d disappeared. I was hoping to find him at the con tomorrow, but now I’m supposed to be in Vegas instead. All I know that he has a degree in philosophy and his first name is Mac.”
Alyssa suddenly stilled.
“You okay?” Tristan asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Alyssa shook her head and returned to stabbing her salad. “Just remembered something for work. Go on.”
“We’ve been talking about me this whole time.” Tristan mimed turning a lazy Susan. “Back to you and your love life. New boyfriend?”
“I still want to hear more about you and Loki Boy,” Alyssa said. “But... I did go out with this really great guy last weekend, and we have another date tonight.”
Tristan let out a squeal that even to her sounded a bit like a silly high school girl, but she didn’t care. “Spill everything.”
* * *
After a highly enjoyable lunch, Alyssa paid their tab. “Too bad I have to get back to that whole job thing,” she said, standing. “We need a week or two to catch up properly.”
“Too bad I have to figure out a way to get to Vegas tonight. I’d much rather stay.”
As they tucked their chairs under the table, Alyssa paused. “You know, something just occurred to me. I might know someone you can drive down with.”
“Really? Who?”
“MacKenzie Wilson — a fabulous graphic designer who used to work with me. Moved to Vegas last summer for a new job, but came back up for Comic Con this weekend. Some of the others from the office got together for lunch.”
“I made you miss lunch with her?”
Alyssa cocked her head. “You trump pretty much anyone, even my mom. But anyway, I happen to know that MacKenzie is driving home tonight.”
“Isn’t she staying all three days?”
“I don’t remember,” Alyssa said. “Maybe the three-day passes were all gone? You’d have to ask.” They headed for the glass doors and the busy street outside. Alyssa gestured for them to step to the inside of the sidewalk. When they were out of the path of pedestrians, Alyssa pulled out her phone and began typing. “I’m sending the number to you right now so you’ll have it. I’ll call too, and pass along yours. I doubt Mackenzie has left yet.”
“Any idea what she’ll charge?”
Alyssa kept typing as she shook her head. “This isn’t Uber or Buckle Buddies,” she said. “It’s a friend of a friend doing a favor. Pitch in some gas money, some snacks for the road, and maybe take a turn driving for a couple of hours, and I’d bet you’ll both be happy.” She sent the text, and a moment later, Tristan’s phone buzzed.
“Thank you so much. I’ll send a text right now. What does she look like?”
“Tall, sandy blond hair.” Alyssa gestured toward her phone. “Text me when you get to Vegas so I know you didn’t end up dumped in a ditch in the middle of nowhere or anything.”
“Hey, you said—”
Both of Alyssa’s hands went up. “Totally kidding. I’d trust MacKenzie with my life.” Her face softened into a more pensive expression — nothing like Atlas Face, and possibly more meaningful. “You deserve to have every bit of happiness and success the world has to offer,” she said. “I hope you know that.”
“You’re the best,” Tristan said, hugging her best friend. She had to blink several times to prevent tears from falling. “I’m going to miss you.”
As they parted, Alyssa held up her phone. “Keep in touch,” she said, walking backward now, in the direction of her office building. “Technology is the next best thing to being in person.”
Tristan held up her phone. “Will do.”
“Text MacKenzie soon!” Alyssa called. “I’m calling now, so it’ll be expected!” She waved good-bye, turned, and walked off, phone to her ear.
Tristan crossed the street to Temple Square, found a bench under a tree, and sent a text to the number Alyssa had sent.
MacKenzie, this is Alyssa Gardner’s friend. She probably just called about me. I need to get to Vegas for an event tomorrow morning, and she said you might have room in your car today. I’d be happy to pitch in money for gas and food.
She added a smiley face, tapped send, and reluctantly headed for her hotel. As weird as Comic Con was, she had really enjoyed parts, especially hearing from celebrities who’d starred in shows she grew up watching.
But she had to admit that the best part was Loki. It really was a shame that she wouldn’t be able to go back tomorrow to find him.
Chapter Three
As Tristan reached her hotel room, her phone went off with an incoming message: from MacKenzie.
I’d love to have company. I checked out of my room this morning, so I can pick you up as soon as you want to leave. Just say where and when. I was planning to leave at the top of the hour, but I’m flexible.
Tristan went in, let the door close behind her, sat on the bed, and tapped out a reply.
Thank you so much! I can be ready in 15. I’m at the Radisson Hotel. Meet you at the pull through?
As she sent the message, she felt grateful for the hotel comping her room in exchange for a review on her site. Without this room, she would have had to stay in a dingy motel or crash at Alyssa’s. While the latter would have been fun, it would also have been entirely unproductive. A hotel room provided the solitude and quiet Tristan needed to work on the road.
One of these days, she’d make enough to simply visit her best friend, and then they could stay up late, talking and laughing and eating ice cream while watching cheesy romantic comedies from the 80s.
Her phone buzzed with another text from MacKenzie. Sounds great. See you there in a few! Alyssa told me to wear my Mickey Mouse baseball hat so you’d recognize me. I drive a red Camry. I’ll wear the hat too, but the car might be easier to spot. See you soon.
Everything was turning out better than she could have hoped. She’d prepared herself to arrive in Vegas after midnight, but they’d probably arrive in Vegas around eight or nine, which meant getting a decent dinner and a good night’s rest before the singles convention in the morning.
She stared at her phone, trying to decide what to tell MacKenzie to watch for as a way to recognize her. Straight, dishwater blond hair that came past her shoulders seemed like a pointless description; that description matched half of the local population.
My suitcase is Granny Smith green, and I’m wearing yellow shoes. Her top was nothing more than a fitted V-neck tee — something that had worked under her Rey costume — so she didn’t bother mentioning the rest of her wardrobe. Her yellow wedge sandals and bright green suitcase would stand out plenty.
A moment later, a reply arrived: Green suitcase, yellow shoes. Got it. And then an emoji of a thumbs-up.
She smiled at that. The friendly image gave her the feeling that she’d get along well with Alyssa’s friend. Maybe the three of them could han
g out one of these days.
With the details of their meeting settled, Tristan started packing. She soon had her suitcase zipped up and the handle extended. She gave the room a final scan to be sure that she hadn’t forgotten anything. Too bad it was good for another night; she could have gotten a lot done in a room like this. Maybe she could still get some writing done in the car, using her iPad and Bluetooth keyboard.
If we click as friends, we might end up talking the whole way. She looked forward to the prospect; getting to know one of Alyssa’s friends wouldn’t be the same as being with Alyssa, but it would certainly be fun. Maybe Tristan could even get MacKenzie to dish some dirt on their mutual friend.
Pulling her suitcase, she left her room and took the elevator to the lobby. By the time she checked out, only eleven minutes had passed since their last text. A sense of satisfaction went through her. The habit of being early helped her avoid problems. She could usually work around things like traffic jams and other obstacles without getting stressed out simply because she’d given herself extra time. Sudden surprises meant stress.
She pulled her suitcase to one of the tall windows flanking the sliding glass doors to wait. The sun was out, but with the approach of autumn, daytime temperatures had dropped. From where she stood, she could keep an eye on the window for a red car without getting goose bumps from waiting outside in the shaded, breezy pull through.
As she waited, Tristan checked the social media accounts for Single File. She posted memes she’d created about the single life. Five minutes later, she’d gone through Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Snapchat. She glanced up before checking her email and spotted a red Camry pulling in and parking behind a couple of taxis.
Perfect timing.
She pocketed her phone, tilting the suitcase onto its wheels, and headed out the door. Shadows prevented her from seeing much, but when the driver looked down, likely at a phone, sure enough, there was the image of Mickey Mouse. Definitely MacKenzie.
Love Far from Home Box Set Page 12
