“Asshole,” I mumble under my breath as he continues to walk toward the plane, nodding at two men standing by the stairs leading up to the huge ass plane. I see his body plastered across the plane, and I about vomit in my mouth. Though I will admit it’s a cool shot and looks like he’s hanging on to the door of the plane.
“This is going to be nuts.” I hear a man’s voice next to me and look over to see Jonathan Divers, the journalist for Entertainment Hollywood. He is co-anchor of the nightly show, and his face is model-worthy; in fact, he’s actually really good looking. He is dressed in slacks and a white button-down shirt, perfectly pressed and tucked in. We started in this industry at the same time, so we are friendly with each other, and both of us realize the gravity of this prison senten- I mean, job assignment we’ve undertaken.
“It’s a shitshow,” I say honestly, knowing he isn’t going to tell anyone. He will dish all about the gossip in Hollywood, but he will not be the one gossiping.
“You know who else is coming with us?” he asks as we make our way to the plane.
Stopping at the luggage rack waiting near the plane, we find the rack is almost full, the top of the rack fully open, leaving one spot on the bottom open. He grabs his bag and lifts it to the top, leaving the one on the bottom open for me. I’m about to grab it and put it on the bottom when he does it for me. I smile at him. Finally, an actual gentleman in this world full of testosterone.
“Lifesaver.” I laugh when he grunts. “I overpacked. I know it, but it’s so hard to decide your stuff when it’s thirty days, and you don’t even know where you’re going.”
“Yeah, I don’t really understand that whole thing.” He shrugs as we walk toward the stairs leading to the plane. Two women wearing headsets and holding clipboards stop us.
“Hi there, my name is Yolanda,” the tall, thin, and beautiful woman with short hair starts, “and this is Yamina.” She points at the other woman, who is a mirror-image of her but sporting a bob cut. “We are going to be the ‘cruise directors.’” She literally uses her fingers to make air quotes. “Everything is set for the trip. All hotel rooms have been booked, and you will receive the room keys as soon as we get there. We requested king-size beds for everyone.”
I smile at Yolanda. “Can you tell me when we will be getting the full itinerary of the trip?”
Yamina smiles at us. “We will issue an itinerary each morning while we travel.”
“But . . .” Jonathan starts, but she puts up her hand.
“If you guys will take this sheet right here,” Yolanda says, “it should answer any additional questions you might have.”
I lean into Jonathan. “I think we have been dismissed.” Then I look at the women. “Thank you, ladies, for all your help,” I say, hoping they catch my sarcastic comment. After I take the paper from them, I walk up the steel stairs and through the plane door. A flight attendant wearing a blue shirt and light blue short-sleeved silk top with blond hair greets us with a huge smile. “Good afternoon, my name is Cynthia, and I’ll be with you this whole trip.”
“Hi there,” I say. Looking into the plane, I’m expecting to see rows of seats like I would in a normal airplane but not in this one. At the front of the plane looks like a restaurant setup with four tables and four big leather chairs around each one.
“You can sit anywhere you’d like up front,” she says to us and then points down the aisle. “There are four sections to the plane, so please make yourself at home.” I walk down the aisle past the tables and then walk into the second section, which has two huge seats on each side, ten rows deep. I spot five other journalists I know, each sitting in their own chair. I put my purse in the first row, next to a lone backpack.
“I guess this is how you reserve your seat.” I laugh, looking back at Jonathan who tosses his bag in the first available seat. I take in the five journalists already seated.
Kendall works for an online publication, and she has been around for about five years. She sits with her blond hair curled perfectly right next to Autumn, another up-and-coming online journalist. This could actually be her big break if she plays it right. She looks up from her phone and smiles at me, her blue eyes bright. She is what the California girl is all about. Across the aisle in the same row are two guy reporters who have been around forever, like ever and ever. Both are looking down at their laptop while they wait for the plane to take off. Jake Watson with his salt and pepper hair and goatee. He’s so good looking it’s almost a shame . . . What’s even more shameful is that he bats for the other team. He also has more knowledge than anyone I know. Jim Pearson sits next to him, his black, wavy long hair tied in a man bun on top of his head. Where Jake is handsome, Jim is rugged; they work for the same television station, just on different shows.
“Gentlemen.” I smile at them as I walk by, and Jim looks up first.
“Well, my dreams have finally come true,” he says. “A whole month away with you. This is my chance to sweep you off your feet.” I shake my head, knowing he’s full of shit. He just wants my contacts. You learn really fast in Hollywood who your friend is and who isn’t, and let me tell you, I can count on one hand the number of people I trust, and Jim isn’t one of them.
I pick up my hand and cross my fingers. “Here’s to hoping.” He smirks at me and gives me a sly smile after, my eyes traveling to the ink on his arms. He’s inked on both hands. His chest is huge, and you know he spends a lot of time at the gym, which means he’s too worried about what he looks like to care about anyone other than himself.
Jake looks at me. “I owe my producer a hundred bucks,” he says, smiling at me, and I look at him in question. “I thought for sure you would have been left off the guest list for this one.”
“I am just as surprised as you are,” I tell him, and he just nods.
“Let’s catch up,” he says, and I nod at him. I hear commotion coming into the plane and turn around to see that it’s the last three journalists come barreling in.
“Who invited the sorority girls?” says Peter, the other guy sitting behind Jim and Jake. I shake my head, trying to hide the laugh, but he isn’t wrong. Ella, Erin, and Evelyn are all giggling and posing for selfies. They all have the same bleached blond hair with matching bleached teeth. If you were to tell me that other places on them are bleached, specifically places where the sun don’t shine, I wouldn’t be surprised. I walk out of the room and enter the third part of the plane where thirty-six bed pods are set up.
“Well, this could be difficult . . . My summer sleepaway camp nightmare come to life,” I say to myself. I look at the closed door in the back of the plane, wondering what treasure could possibly be behind that magical door, but then it opens, and Tyler stands there, a bed serving as his backdrop. “Fabulous. One person’s trash is another one’s treasure, I guess,” I mumble.
Trying to assuage an awkward encounter, I’m forced to address him. “I guess you aren’t staying with the commoners when it’s time to sleep?” He walks toward me without responding, and now that he isn’t wearing his glasses, I can’t look away from his bright blue eyes. He finally reaches me, and his musk fills my senses.