to be “on” again.
Still, no call from Eddie. I fire off a message regarding my early arrival at the airport, so the TSA escort is ready for me. I don’t expect to be mobbed by paparazzi or fans like some, but I’ve learned to never assume.
Yawning, I lean my head back and close my eyes. In just a few hours I’ll be home and able to block out the world for a few days. Catch up on some rest and plan a trip to see my family. I could use some of my mama’s home cooking and uncle time with my nieces and nephews.
I startle when the door opens, pulling me from my dream-like state. Unfolding myself out the car, I rise to my full height and put on a smile. When I turn to thank the driver, he’s already rounded the car and is settling behind his seat. Well, okay then.
“Sir, if you’re ready?” The TSA agent asks. This guy is huge and pushing the sleeves of his shirt to its limits.
“Sure…”
“Joe.”
“Lead the way, Joe.”
Following my guide, I keep a light smile on my face and my gaze low and ahead as we weave through the crowd and to the special security lane. Not all airports offer this luxury and while it makes me uncomfortable to be singled out, I can’t imagine the level of anxiety I’d feel or how much of a distraction it could be to be one of the hundreds in the regular security line.
Once my backpack and I are both scanned, I slip my earbuds in and resume listening to the classic rock playlist I had on this morning. Double checking the app on my phone, I confirm I need to walk to the far end of this terminal for the airline’s private lounge. So far I haven’t been noticed, and I hope to keep it that way until I make it to the elevator, which will drop me in the lobby of the lounge.
A small child darts in front of me and I stop short of running her over. The mother offers me a small smile before stumbling. So much for going unrecognized. On instinct, I reach down to help the woman, my earbud slipping from my ear. Catching it before it hits the ground, I slip it in my pocket.
“You’re… Ohmygosh…” Before she can say another word, the little girl screeches in the distance. Abandoning me, the woman rushes to her child.
Picking up the pace, I rush to the sign identifying the lounge elevators. By some miracle, they open, and a woman steps out, pulling a suitcase behind her. Slipping between the doors, I push the close button just as I hear my name again.
Adjusting my backpack on my shoulder, I pull the rogue earbud from my pocket. Just as I set it to my ear, I hear my name in the distance. Shit.
Chapter Eight
Celeste
When I booked my flight home, I thought leaving before the convention was officially over would be fine. As long as I got my picture, my autograph and my round table discussion with Hunter Stone, I would be sitting on Cloud Nine without a care in the world.
I was wrong. I’m sitting in an airport chair with a rip in the upholstery that keeps pinching my leg and lamenting the fact that I am missing the closing ceremony simply so I can catch the cheapest flight home. Not that I had much of a choice. I used almost all my points on the hotel for Carrie’s wedding which meant my options for cheap flights were more limited. Still, I feel like something amazing is going to happen back at the hotel when I’m not there. Which is likely given my track record with even getting to the con in the first place.
Who knew that I, Celeste Pumperkin, hater of all things vampire except Hunter Stone’s artistic interpretation, would become a fangirl over a TV show about paranormal crime fighters? But after spending three days immersed in the Prince of Darkness fandom, I get it now. And I’m almost ashamed to admit I might try that vampire series Carrie has been pressuring me to read for several years now. It helps that I can visualize Hunter Stone in the lead role of that series. No one has to know that part except me.
Opening up my email again, I blow out an exaggerated sigh. Still no response from this Eddie guy who allegedly manages Hunter’s schedule. I’ve triple checked that I