Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98345 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I can’t reconcile that mental image. Sienna working a desk job? Laughable.
“Where are you off to once you finish up here? You mentioned it was your gran’s birthday?”
“Yes, her big eightieth shindig. I’ve been planning it for ages. I’m hosting it at a swanky nightclub in downtown Bristol. I’ve managed to book the whole place out. She’ll love it.”
“God, I want to be in a nightclub when I’m eighty.”
Sienna winks. “Me too, babe. Me too.”
“What about after that?”
She picks up her wine and takes a sip, mentally scrolling through her schedule. “I head to Sweden for a brand trip with Volvo, and then from there, I’m off to Dubai.”
“For work?”
“For pleasure,” she says with a coy smile.
“Amazing,” I laugh. “I can’t wait to see pictures.”
“And what about you, Casey Hughes?” She hums. “What are you thinking you’re going to do now?”
That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?
I study the side of my wineglass. “I thought at first that I might go back home just to get things sorted—”
Sienna makes a blaring sound like she’s a game show buzzer, and I’ve just provided the wrong answer.
“But . . . ,” I continue pointedly. “There’s no real reason I have to do that.”
“Right!”
“I mean, yes, it’s practical and all. But being practical has not exactly served me well thus far.”
Sienna grins. “So throw caution to the wind. Shake things up.”
I can’t help but smile as a zing of excitement has me sitting up straight and talking faster. “Well, I know I want to travel. I’m not completely opposed to working for another large-scale publication, but I’d expect it to be much of the same crap I dealt with at Bon Voyage. So, no, that’s out for right now. I want to do something totally different.”
“And if, perhaps . . . I already got the ball rolling for you on your new career, would you absolutely kill me?” she asks gently.
My eyes shoot up to meet hers. “What do you mean? You’ve called someone for me?”
I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m sure she has a lot of contacts in the industry.
She winces. “No, not exactly. I just, I think I need you to promise that you won’t kill me first before I tell you.”
Excitement and dread comingle inside me—warring for the top spot. I force a laugh and shake my head. “I’m not going to kill you. Will you knock it off?”
That seems to settle it for her. She leans forward and props her elbows on the table. She no longer looks worried. Her face is pure delight. “You know all those pictures and videos of us I’ve been taking on the trip?” I nod, encouraging her to go on. “I ended up making a few day-in-the-life videos with all the footage, and you were in most of them, of course.”
“Okay . . .”
“People have been curious about my hot friend, and well . . . it felt like such a waste to not be able to tag you.”
I’m blinking fast, trying to keep pace with her. I’ve seen Sienna’s Instagram account. She has millions of followers. She might seem normal, just any other friend sitting across from me at the dinner table, but she’s far from it. On the internet, at least, she’s a real celebrity.
“Oh, right,” I say, not really sure where this is leading. She posted me on her account? So?
“So, I made you an Instagram account, and . . . you already have close to twenty-five thousand followers, and I bet if we check again, you’ll have even more. You’re growing by the second.” She rushes the second half of her sentence out before wincing as if she expects an immediate freak-out, and well, I deliver right on cue.
“WHAT?”
“It’s @TravelWithCaseyHughes,” she rushes out. “I’m @TravelWithSiennaThompson, so it only seemed apropos to have our accounts match. And well, there you go, a popular Instagram account for the taking. I can connect you with my management team, or if you want to fly solo, that’s fine too. I know loads of people who prefer that. Either way, it’s up to you.”
I still haven’t said anything, and I think she’s starting to get worried about me reneging on my promise not to kill her. She leans over the table and squeezes my hand.
“Are you upset with me?” she asks gently.
“No.”
I’m dumbfounded. Shocked. Utterly taken aback by her gesture.
Her tone gentles as she continues, “I think you could really do this, Casey. You could live out your dream of traveling and writing about it and make real money while you’re at it. I won’t sugarcoat it and say it’s no work at all, but I’ve found it’s different working for yourself. It sounds like you’ve slaved away at Bon Voyage for years now. Why not use that same amount of energy building your own brand instead? I mean, what do you have to lose?” She blanches. “No offense, but from what you’ve told me . . . there is absolutely nothing waiting for you at the end of this cruise. Not even your man, from the sounds of the arrangement you two have. Just think about it.”