Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Tallula

M y stomach feels like the never-ending drop on a rollercoaster—and not in a good way. I'd like to get off this ride, please.

Should I be embarrassed that Jesse seemed especially fascinated by my parents' ostentatious home? At least he didn't see my mother's shoe closet—it covers at least five hundred square feet.

He had a wide-eyed expression as if he was impressed, which is no surprise if you've never been in a mansion like that before. But then something shifted as if he remembered that his world and mine were like the North and South Poles.

While sitting in the driveway, I filled out the digital paperwork, filing reports about who knows what. I know, I know. I should've read everything more carefully, but I'm running on too few hours of sleep and maybe one too many jumbo beignet buns. I'm not complaining about that. They're gooey and good. Hollywood, eat my heart out. Or, um, my beignet buns.

I lean back slightly in the driver's seat. This wouldn't have been my reaction a few months ago. I would've kept to my strict diet plan, groveled apologies to Peter and all of his associates, and done my best to win back my friends. But I said goodbye to my Hollywood dream life.

Moink looks up at me with her big eyes from the passenger-side safety seat as if asking me why. I have the same question.

Musing, I say, "Could've been the pressure, the expectations, and the constant hustle to climb the Hollywood ladder. But what's up there, anyway?"

I never stopped to really think about that. Fortune and fame are the obvious answers. After seeing the interior of my parents' house, Jesse would argue that I had the former. Never mind that my parents cut me off when Peter and I got "Married." No doubt they think I'm dumb. They'll remind me how smart Mara is. Of course, it works both ways. Mother criticizes her for not trying harder with her appearance. For the record, Mara is beautiful in a slightly lower maintenance way than me. Though I've seen her skincare routine and it's no joke.

As for fame, what is it even? Being known, popular, adored.

Moink makes her piggy sound.

"I adore you too. Yes, I do."

Grappling with all this, a sigh escapes and I suddenly feel the familiar exhaustion that periodically appeared back in LA. Biting my lip, if I asked Dr. Internet for a diagnosis, it would tell me that it's the feeling of burnout. The prescription is taking a break, which I've done—if not break my entire career—so why do I feel so tired now?

Moink squeaks.

I'm afraid I know the answer—is it pointing me in a different direction, as in Do not go back! If so, that scares me because it would mean staying here.

My headlights beam as I make the familiar turns, but away from the place I once called home and toward Pigs in a Blanket. My mother and father are going to be so upset.

With me.

About their house.

In general.

Truly, when are they not peeved about something?

At each other. Me. Mara. Tax codes, business deals, disagreements about what dishes to serve at the monthly Ladies Who Lunch Assembly, and Father's Southern Gentleman Society meetings.

I sink a little lower in my seat, wishing things were different, easier. How can I fix this?

Beignet buns! They're always the solution.

Except for women like my mother would never get their hands sticky. Father would gobble up three.

Jesse trails behind me. He has to return to the police station to finish his shift. When we parted, his thumbs looped his utility belt, and he rocked on his heels. I clasped my hands behind my back. It's like we were both obeying an invisible Do Not Touch sign at a museum. But what's the point of living behind velvet ropes?

Letting out a shaky breath, I can't stop thinking about all the ways Peter went wrong and how Jesse has gone right—he's strong, capable, helpful, and so handsome. The little digital heart inside fills up.

My phone, attached to the car's technology suite, rings with a call from my sister and I answer.

"I got a message from Deputy Lawson. Is everything okay?" She sounds slightly frantic.

"Yes and no." I explain what happened.

She squawks a laugh. "Wow. The fun just doesn't stop, huh?"

I want to crawl under a rock—if there really is a dragon, maybe I can hide in its cave. "I didn't think things could get worse."

"Are they really that bad? Everyone loves the jumbo beignet buns. I have several more orders waiting."

But I hardly hear what she says when a strange thought appears in my mind like a shadow in the dark.

It's not fame I want per se. I want them to love me. I want to be loved, truly, deeply, and madly loved. Not because I'm pretty or on a television screen or have expensive things.

Before I can think more about that a car swerves around a corner, high beams bright. I squint and the rearview mirror adjusts itself.

Sheesh. "Take it easy."

"What was that?" Mara asks .

"A lousy driver who doesn't realize their high beams are on."

"So, you think Peter did the damage?" my sister asks.

"Likely or it could've been a crazed fan. But how did they find me? I never mentioned Hogwash." No, my hometown was never part of the conversation because I didn't want the association.

Mara says, "Maybe people saw you in social media posts from the grand opening. And your recent rant with my Coffee Loft franchise location in the background probably didn't help matters."

"I was in the kitchen. It could've been any kitchen."

"True, but I knew where you were."

The car behind me tailgates now. I'm going the speed limit and in that awkward position of being unsure of whether I should speed up or slow down so they can pass, but the yellow lines on the road are double here. Let's just say I never mastered Los Angeles freeway driving.

"I wish I could undo the rant. I wish I could undo a lot of things," I mutter the last part.

"Speaking of undoing. Jed, that's enough coloring for the play dough. Margaret don't put it in your hair." My sister's phone clatters and she hollers, "Gotta go, Tally. Talk later."

I exhale, thinking briefly about Mara. She went from being a boss babe to being a mom. Growing up, I was the one who played with dolls and she was always climbing trees. Then, in high school, she was super academic, and I was more social. Everyone had us pegged as me getting married and having a family. Turned out to be the other way around.

But it's not too late. I could have a family too.

The car behind me continues to follow closely. The upside is the high beams aren't so bright when they're practically attached to my bumper. Should I pull over and let them pass? I'm on a back road by Bladecrook, bordered by a swamp and a culvert. Plus, it's dark out. I glance back and don't see Jesse's car farther down the road. I'm certain it's not him behind me because he's in the police SUV and I'd see the silhouette of the light rack on the roof.

Speeding up a bit, the car behind me does the same. Out here, where the properties abut swamps, drainage ditches, and soggy waterways, there are only two ways back to town. When I reach the fork in the road, I veer left, the direction less traveled. If this person is in a rush, they'll go right.

The rollercoaster swoop in my stomach tightens when they follow me.

The driver is erratic, speeding up and slowing down.

Where did Jesse go? What do I do?

I take a few evasive turns and the car continues to tail me.

It could be a crazy fan, a random weirdo, or a member of the Bling Ring, mad that I'm going to get my license plate cover back. Or it could be whoever Peter hired to vandalize my parents' house.

Jesse said he'd protect me. I wish he were here now.

If I were to pull over, this would be the episode titled The Unwanted Mud Bath . I don't want to think of all the ways it could go worse. Swallowing thickly, of course, my imagination makes up other titles, involving words like abduction and murder .

A prickly sweat dampens the nape of my neck. The car is still back there, swerving, revving, and relatively out of control.

My stomach plummets when I realize I must've taken a wrong turn in the dark. I'm out toward Farmer Daley's sweet potato fields. The same area where Jesse and I took the ride on his motorcycle so long ago. I wonder if he still has it.

Past the farmhouse, the road turns to dirt, but it eventually leads to town unless the Daley's let it grow over. I could take it, leading me farther away from civilization before meeting up with a paved road again or I could make a U-Turn.

"Think, Tallula." It's not lost on me that I just used my full name and not Llula.

Just then, the car behind me surges forward, nearly swiping my door. Moink hides in her seat. I'm trembling now, worried about what this lunatic is going to do. But the vehicle flies past and the taillights fade into the distance. I can turn around now, but the road is narrow. I almost failed my driver's license test because my three-point turn was closer to a five-point turn.

Does the road widen ahead? It's been so long since I've been out here, I can't remember. But I do remember the ride with Jesse. Whenever I see him, my internal heart "like" icon flashes red and warmth floods me. But right now, I just see flashing red and blue lights.

Is that him or another officer? Was I speeding? Am I under arrest?

A sweeping feeling of relief pushes against the nerves inside, but they don't go away because I don't know what's going on. I slow down and pull over onto the shoulder of the road. The police car zooms past. I'm not sure where to go or what to do.