The Allure of Julian Lefray (The Allure #1)(80)

I shook my head.

“Honey?”

Maybe if I hadn’t just sat on a bus for 36 hours and didn’t smell like tuna fish, I would have brushed my mother’s comments off, but I had and I did, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stand their shame any longer.

“You and Dad don’t get it. Do you know how hard it is to make it in the fashion industry? I’ve been busting my ass every single day and I’m finally starting to thrive in New York City. Vogue—VOGUE MAGAZINE—wants to hire me for a job. My blog has started to take off, and I have thousands of people reading it every day. More people than Sonya will ever meet in her life! More readers means more advertisers. I could really make a name for myself, but you and Dad can’t seem to believe in me for even five seconds. You want me to throw in the cards and move back here? To do what? Cut hair?”

I pushed away from the counter and held her gaze. This was the last time I’d talk about this and if she wanted to listen to me, she would. If not, I’d said my piece and I could move on.





Chapter Forty-Eight


Julian





Josephine lived in the middle of nowhere.

452 Cherry Street in Nowheresville, Texas.

I’d found that out as soon as I’d stepped off the plane. As I was renting a car from the Dallas airport, I’d asked the two older women behind the counter if they’d heard of her town. The one on the left with the 70s style hair had scrunched her nose.

“Loretta, is that where they shot Fridee Night Lights?”

Loretta shook her head. “No, that was out near Austin. This is some other small town. I could look it up on Bing or sumthin’ if you’d like.”

I said no thanks and they shrugged, handed me the keys to my rental, and sent me on my way.

I’d tossed my bag over my shoulder and headed out with the idea that I’d get a few hours of driving in before I crashed. That was a terrible idea. I’d already sat through a late night flight out of New York, so by the time I reached the outskirts of Dallas, I was having trouble keeping my eyes open.

I found the first hotel on the right side of the highway, pulled in, and called it a night.

That was my first mistake.

Blue Star Hotel would have ranked at about a .5 on the 5 star scale. I had mattress springs sticking into my back for half the night, and the other half of the night the neighbor’s shouting next door was impossible to drown out. I’d forgotten to set an alarm, and at 10:49 AM, I shot up in bed with one question:

Where the hell am I?

My disorientation subsided as I recognized the dilapidated hotel furniture and the popcorn ceiling that was chipping off and decorating the carpet with white flecks. Ah, right. Good ol’ Blue Star. I threw the hotel blankets off and hopped in the shower. (I nearly pulled the showerhead off as I tried to angle it for my height.)

I sat in the parking lot of the seedy hotel, staring at Josephine’s address. I had no clue how much longer I had to go before I reached Josephine’s hometown, but I wanted to get on the road as soon as possible. I plugged in her address and put the car in reverse.

It said I had nearly three and a half hours to drive.

I slipped on my Ray Bans, hit play on a Willie Nelson playlist, and set out for greener pastures. And greener pastures. And greener pastures. The one thing that continued to shock me about Texas was how fucking big it was. If I set out in a car in New York, I’d end up in another state in no time. Hell, I could go through three or four states in one morning. In Texas? I could drive for a full day and still not make it to the other side.

By the time my playlist looped back for a third time, I was ready to call it a day. I’d already stopped for gas, and somewhere in the middle of my drive I’d missed a turnoff from the highway and had driven over an hour in the wrong direction. I’d cursed the high heavens, u-turned off the side of the road in a ditch, nearly gotten my rental car stuck, and then finally got headed back in the right direction.

By the time I pulled into the outskirts of Josephine’s town, I’d managed to turn a three and a half hour drive into a six hour drive. My stomach was shouting at me for food and my bones ached from sitting for so long. I ignored the fact that I was about to piss my pants and continued on the highway past the “Welcome” sign, which, by the way, noted that the population of the town floated somewhere around 300. Yup. As in less people than the graduating class of my high school.

I kept driving until the highway gave way to a two-lane street that looped around a town square. A limestone courthouse sat in the center of town with businesses surrounding it on all sides. Most of them had their lights off and shades drawn, so I assumed they were already closed for the day. I pulled off to the side of the street in front of a dark butcher shop and checked the navigation to Josephine’s house. She couldn’t be far from Main Street. Right?

I refreshed the map and a screen popped up that read, “No network connection, try again.”

I did. I tried it three more times with the same result, and then threw my phone onto the passenger seat.

Well, awesome. I had no clue where to find Josephine’s house, I had to piss, and I was hungry as fuck.

The things people do for love…

After I gave my phone another ten minutes to prove to me that it was definitely not going to pick up a cellular signal, I pulled back out onto the road and looked for the first open gas station.