Truly, Madly, Like Me - Jo Watson Page 0,18

barking grew louder and now it had been joined by deep, throaty growls. With the dust out of my eyes, I could finally see what he was barking at, and when I did—

“SNAKE!” Mother-effing, head-rearing, fang-showing, scaly and coiled, bloody snake. I froze for a second. It was very inconvenient. I had wished that my innate, instinctual response could have been more of the “flight” variety, but I guess I was a freezer. Luckily, some common sense finally kicked in a few seconds later and my freeze ended with a very fast turn and run the hell out of there!

I ran as fast as I could, not caring that the dry grass and shrubs were scratching at my ankles. And I didn’t stop running until I reached my hotel room. When I got there, I looked back over my shoulder for the first time. Satan’s Little Helper wasn’t behind me, and neither was the snake. I threw myself into my room and tried to catch my breath. I was so relieved to be out of that stupid desert.

Spiritual shmiritual awakening, my bloody ass. What awakening can you have out there amongst the dry, decrepit landscape with a snake in your face? There was nothing spiritual about the desert, nothing spiritual about me. What had I been thinking, reinventing myself as some kind of enlightened, guru blogger? I looked down at my ankles which were now streaked red with blood, the color looking hideous against my now fading Tropical Days spray tan, one of my former product partners. I was pouring with salty, sticky sweat and gasping for air. I wiped my face with the back of my hand and a brown smear of foundation came off on it. I was sure the skin on my face was sunburnt too, because it was stinging. I was sure a thorn had pierced my foot because I could feel something pricking there, and I was sure that I absolutely fucking hated it here. I needed to get away from this place.

What had I been thinking? A social media detox?! I hadn’t heard of anything more stupid in my life and yet, here I was. What was wrong with me?

I couldn’t do this! I needed reception and Wi-Fi like I needed water to drink and air to breathe. I had never needed anything so badly in my entire life and I felt like I was drowning in this intense longing for something I couldn’t have. I couldn’t stay here a second longer.

CHAPTER 9

I rushed over to the cupboard and pulled out my suitcase, grabbing fistfuls of clothing as I went. Shoes and shirts and dresses all shoved into the bottom of my case. I’d once done a Smart Packing Life Hack video on my vlog, one where I showed everyone how to pack effectively by rolling T-shirts into little Swiss rolls, which got over 500,000 views. But now, I couldn’t be bothered.

When the suitcase was packed, I turned my attention to my scattered make-up bags and brushes and lip kits. I gathered up the beauty debris and shoved them into my oversized handbag. One last look around the room, then I threw some cash down on the bed for my stay and I ran. Out the door, leaving it wide open—I wasn’t going to waste a second more closing it. I raced across the street and straight to the bright blue cheese. I rummaged through my bag for the car keys and found them. Then I went back in for the immobilizer and rummaged some more . . . and rummaged some more . . . and rummaged some more . . . and mother-effing more! Where the hell was that stupid little grey thing?

“Nooo,” I whined loudly and raced back into the room like the Road Runner. You remember that cartoon, right? Where Wile E. Coyote is always trying to catch Road Runner as he tears down the road; a flurry of feet and feathers and smoke trailing behind him, “Beep, Beep!”

Well, I was like that as I arrived at the room and began turning it upside-down. Under the bed, bottom of cupboard, under pillows, duvet, down the side of the small sofa, I even pulled the corners of the carpets back. I was sweaty and desperate and on my hands and knees peering under the night stand when I felt it . . . again!

“Oh nooooo.” I hung my head and shook it. I knew what I was going to see when