Page 116 of You and Me, For Real
“Are you Ms. Reid?”
“I am.”
“Wonderful. I’m Winston, your driver for the evening. If you please.” He opens the rear door. Winston has short-cropped dark hair, accented by several grey sections, making me guess he’s in his mid-fifties.
I slip into the limo. “Thank you, Winston.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.” He shuts the door behind me.
I fall into cavernous darkness despite the daylight outside. My chariot for the evening possesses windows darker than black ink. I wish Wren was able to ride with me, then my nerves wouldn’t be so out of control. Her band will also be arriving together as part of the red-carpet experience. We’re capitalizing on her fame as an up-and-coming pop celebrity being a supporter and board member of The Rescue Ranch. We scheduled press to snap photos and help spread the word about the event and its cause.
The partition between Winston and me is closed. I find a button on the ceiling, allowing me to lower it. “When we get to the venue, would you mind dropping me off at the rear entrance, please?”
“You’ve got it, miss.”
I drop my hand and lean against the seat, looking out the limo at each passing palm tree, the traffic surprisingly light. We hired an event photographer for the gala. I dread this aspect, but know it’s necessary for publicity since we have to capitalize on tonight as much as possible. I’m savoring this peace before having my picture taken a million times tonight.
The last two weeks since starting my social media account have gone surprisingly well. I’ve grown a steady following of people genuinely wanting to learn more about the animal community, The Rescue Ranch, and training tips. Though there are still the occasional trolls with some less-than-favorable comments about my connection to Scarlet and Griffin.
My sister and I have chatted often. She helped design the invitations and social media posts for the event. She pressed me to allow her to post on her old socials about the rescue, but I didn’t want anything tying her—and my past—to the ranch.
Winston’s sunglasses pop into the rearview mirror. “Nervous, miss?”
I huff a laugh. “You could say that.”
“Well, you look beautiful. I’m sure the evening will be a smashing success.”
Griffin said Winston is his go-to driver for any special events. Griffin gave him a few details about tonight’s event.
I rest my hand on my midsection. “I sure hope so,” I half-mumble to myself.
We drive to the back entrance where I notified the facility’s staff I would be arriving.
Winston steps out of the limo and comes around to open my door.
“Thank you for the ride, Winston.”
He nods his head. “My pleasure, ma’am. I’ll be in the parking lot all night for whenever you’re ready to return home.” He hands me a business card. “Just call or text that number, and I’ll pull up to the entrance in a jiffy.”
“All night? What are you going to do sitting in a car?”
He smiles like I’m a sweet, naive child. “I’ll be just fine, miss. Thank you for your concern.”
I lean close and whisper, “I’ll sneak you some food later.”
He chuckles. “Thank you, ma’am. That won’t be necessary.” He tips his hat to me, then cups his hand to his mouth. “But I do appreciate something sweet now and then.” He winks conspiratorially.
I laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Once inside, I walk down the corridor. A few staff members pop in and out of various doors, oblivious to my entrance. My heels clack against the tiles. I kick my long dress outward, deliberate and careful with each step. My ankle has healed, but I’m extra cautious, not wanting to risk spraining it again in the monstrosities I’m sporting tonight. While they’re only two-inch heels, they’re definitely not my usual sneakers. I might as well be walking on stilts.
“Hey, beautiful.” Griffin emerges from the darkness of an alcove, pushing off the wall as though he’d been waiting there just for me.
“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with Scarlet?” My eyes travel from his gorgeous face to his black tuxedo—crisp and tailored to a T—his body filling it out perfectly.
“I will be. But I wanted to see you first.” He places a hand in his pocket, looking nervous but oh-so-debonair.
I race to him and wrap my arms around his neck. My lips merge with his as though we’ve done this meeting a million times.
