“What’s going on? Is that even safe?”
Billy stepped once more into the light and stared at the cliff jumpers. His jaw was set in a determined expression. “It’s the plunge. Everyone has to do it. It’s tradition.”
She shook her head. “No, no, no. I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Princess.” His lips twisted into a wry grin and he glanced at her. “I thought you weren’t scared of rough and wild.”
For a moment, she thought about waving him off. Refusing the dare. But Stasia had never been one to turn down a challenge. Without breaking eye contact, she stripped off her sweater and shirt, dropping them into a pile on the ground. All that remained was a tank top and her skirt. The corner of Billy’s mouth lifted in a disbelieving grin and his gaze traveled the length of her body, before returning to her face.
“Lead the way,” she said with a smirk.
They sprinted toward the cliff. Billy was clearly the faster one, but losing his shirt and shoes took extra time. They ended up jumping at the same time, flailing in the empty, warm air for a few exhilarating moments, before splashing into the icy cold quarry below. Stasia broke the surface of the water, gasping for air. Billy appeared next to her in a shower of water droplets.
“Not such a princess after all, huh?” She floated in the water, her arms outstretched on either side.
Half his mouth twitched in a smile. “You’ll always be a royal, your highness. But maybe not such a tame one after all.”
She gasped and splashed him. Laughing at her, he turned and began swimming for the shore. She couldn’t help but watch him until he disappeared in the darkness, a twinge of confusion nudging against her conscience.
Billy had mentioned something about a letter, but she had no clue what he’d been talking about. Their summer had ended in a terrible fight. Her in tears and him storming angrily out of his own backyard. She didn’t want to relive that moment, so she wasn’t going to ask for clarification. What she needed was to finish this interview and get out of this town.
Before history decided to repeat itself.
Chapter Nine
Stasia plopped down on the motel bed and groaned in frustration. She’d just returned from a morning question and answer session with Billy before he headed to his garage. Working with that man was anything but easy. He’d tolerated her presence, even answered some more of her prep questions for the interview, but that was just about as far as it went. They’d hardly made eye contact. It was as if last night’s party had driven another wedge between them.
She was just about to jump into the motel’s tiny shower when her phone rang. Looking down at the bright screen, she let loose another groan. Mr. Treckle’s name caused a mini wave of terror to roll down her back. Despite her misgivings, she answered it and pressed the speaker to her ear.
“Miss Pavlosky, I’ve just read your most recent notes.” His low grumble of a voice sounded even more annoyed than usual. “And I’m pulling you off the story.”
Her heart jumped in her chest and she shot up from the side of the bed. “Wait, what? No, sir, you can’t. I’m not done.”
“As far as I can tell, you are done.” He snorted. “You call this a story? My gran-troll could’ve done a better job and she’s been dead and buried three hundred years. There’s no drama. No tension. I’m bored.”
She paced the room, her eyes wide with panic. Billy had been slowly opening up to her, filling her in on the details of the hunter’s attacks. She thought the story was a good one. The kind that would get her off the ground floor of the broadcasting company and into the higher ranks. But if Mr. Treckle took her off the case, she would be back to square one.
“The story isn’t boring,” she said in a rush, her hands gesturing wildly. “We’ve got a handsome hero, a dying werewolf pack, hunters, an ambush, a fight for their lives. There’s even death!”
She clasped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, praying Mr. Treckle hadn’t heard that last part. It was the one topic she’d been avoiding with Billy. Every time she broached the subject, he’d shut her out. She hadn’t been able to get a word out of him about his fiancée or her death. Not a single clue.
“Death, you say?” Mr. Treckle hummed into the phone. “Now, that’s more like it. I need more information on this update. Send it to me today.”
Stasia’s mouth had suddenly gone dry. “Today?”
“Today, or you’re off the story and I’m sending someone else.” He grunted and the line went dead.
She stared at her phone for an entire minute before falling backwards on the lumpy mattress. The wheels in her head were spinning a million miles per second, wondering how she would deliver on such a task. There was no way she was giving up this story to anyone else. It was her story. No one else would do it justice. She just had to figure out how to get to the root of the drama.
Looking at the time, she popped back off the bed and rushed out the door. There was one person who might be persuaded to fill her in on the missing information. And if she got the truth behind the heartache, maybe she would finally understand why Billy was so tight-lipped. And just maybe, she could wring his side of the story out of him.
The future of her career was counting on it.
?
“My friend, Princess Stasia, everyone!” Ashley waved at Stasia from behind the counter at the town diner. She had a black apron tied around her waist and was smacking on a piece of bright pink bubblegum.
“Hey Ash.” Stasia returned the wave and smiled nervously at the other patrons in the diner who had all turned to stare at her. She slid onto a stool next to the bar and tapped her fingernails on the counter. “When you’ve got a few minutes, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”