Page 1 of Finding New Dreams

1

FLYNN

“Enter your destination.”

I hesitated, unwilling to give the GPS in my rental car an answer. If only life were so simple that you could enter your destination, and bam, you’d be there. I would type in: Make me a successful artist who never has creative blockages.

Instead, I stared out my window at the sun setting over the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport. Violet streaks with blushing pink undertones filled the sky as the day died.

Just like my career. Just like my last relationship. Just like my last smidge of willpower to do the thing I’d come to do.

Plucking my phone from the cupholder, I scrolled through my contacts. A frown creased my forehead at the number of women’s names that whizzed by. Mostly first names. Some a single letter—probably because I couldn’t remember her full name.

Finally, I reached the name I’d been looking for: Cal Packman.

Tapping it, I waited for him to answer.

“No way! Is this really the Flynn Higgins?” Cal’s voice boomed over the phone, loud music pumping in the background like my siren song.

I smiled tightly. “It is. I’m in town and—”

“Say no more, dude! Club called Laser Therapy. Get your ass down here!”

Grinning more widely now, I ended the call and finally gave the GPS an answer. Better than the other option—an address in my old hometown of Tangled River.

I’d barely pulled on to the highway when my phone buzzed violently in my lap. Glancing at the screen before answering, I groaned.

“Ozzy—”

“Where are you going?” he snapped.

Jeremiah “Ozzy” Oswald III. My agent in the art world. The current dictator of my life and giant pain in the ass. Proud owner of every hideous deep-V sweater from the ’70s and a thick handlebar mustache that boasted more hair than the top of his head.

“I’m in Minnesota, where you sent me, remember?” I said casually.

“You’re supposed to be headed to your teeny, tiny hometown, but you’re headed into the city!”

I glared through my windows and even checked the back seat to make sure my omniscient babysitter wasn’t hiding there. Talk about two nightmares rolled into one.

Then it clicked.

“You reactivated that tracker app on my phone, didn’t you?” I demanded, my fingers clenching the steering wheel.

“Of course I did,” Ozzy said sniffily. “After I finally pried you from your pigsty of a condo and you proceeded to become the biggest party animal in L.A., I had to make sure I could hunt you down when I needed to.”

I winced. The past few months hadn’t been easy on either of us. And the only reason I wasn’t throwing a fit about the invasion of privacy was because he had actually saved my ass a time or two. Okay, three times.

He was the reason I hadn’t sunk all my money into a private jet. Or gotten arrested for streaking. Or been beaten up by a jealous boyfriend whose girlfriend lied to me right before sticking her tongue down my throat.

The sign for my exit came up as the streetlights blinked to life. The tall, glossy buildings towered over the crowded streets. Familiar, yet unfamiliar. A place to get lost in.

I had five minutes by the GPS’s estimate. Plenty of time to ease Ozzy’s mind while I handled Minneapolis traffic with the prowess of an L.A. resident.

“Listen, Oz, I’m grateful for you and everything you do. I’m just stopping by to see an old friend before heading to Tangled River.”

Ozzy harrumphed. “Don’t give me that schmooze. You’re going to a party. Maybe there’s a friend, but we both know you’ll have made plenty more ‘friends’ before the sun’s up.”

“I’ll be fine, Oz.”

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