Hollywood Princess (Hollywood Royalty 2)

The driver announces that we will be arriving in fifteen minutes, and slowly they all appear from their bunks. I wait for them to get their things together and then go and get my own stuff. She walks out of the room as soon as the driver puts the bus in park. She is wearing jeans now, regular blue jeans cut in the knees and a Kellie Hudson T-shirt with black and red Gucci flip-flops. Her hair still piled on her head, she walks by me without looking at me, and I follow her off the bus. Cori is waiting at the door for us. “Get in the golf cart,” she tells Kellie, and Kellie walks over to the golf cart, sitting in the passenger seat. She hands me the key card to the cottage. “Here, I have stuff to get settled. Follow the signs.” She points at the pathway with brown and white signs. I grab the card from her and walk over to the golf cart, putting my bag on the back seat.

I don’t say anything to her as I follow the signs to the cottage. I park the golf cart right next to the stairs, then hand her the card to the door. She grabs it while I grab my bag and follow her to the door. Her phone beeps, and she looks down and then back up at me. “They are going to deliver the bags in thirty minutes.”

“I don’t have any bags,” I tell her, holding my only bag in my hand.

“What do you mean?” she asks, opening the door and then holding it for me to walk in.

“I have one bag,” I tell her, walking into the cottage and seeing the plaid couches.

“We are going to be gone for ninety days and you have one bag?” she says, tossing her bag on the couch. Going to the fridge, she opens it and grabs a water.

“Yeah,” I tell her. Looking around, I see the two bedroom doors in front of the living room. From the blueprints, each room has its own private bathroom. I walk to the smaller room and set my bag on the bed. “Three pairs of jeans, five shirts, and three suits.”

“It’s a carry-on bag.”

“Yeah.” I nod at her as she stands there in shock. “If I’m missing anything, I’ll pick it up along the way.”

“My makeup bag is bigger than your whole luggage.” She laughs. There is a knock on the door, and I walk to open it, and the bellboy is there with the cart. She wasn’t lying. Hands down, there are at least fourteen pieces of luggage.

“I might have overpacked,” she says, and I raise my eyebrows at her while the guy struggles to bring in all the bags. I reach into my pocket to tip him, and he just nods at me.

“Which bag do you need right now?” I ask her, and she looks at me. “I have no idea. I don’t do my packing. Cori and my stylist do.”

I shake my head, looking at her. “You should have maybe organized it week by week,” I suggest to her.

“I know that the blue ones are all my shoes.” I look at the three suitcases. “The pink are workout clothes. The black are outfits for nights out, so grab that one please, and you can put it on my bed.” I grab the black one, carry it into her bedroom, and place it on the luggage cart. I walk back out and see the window open to the patio. Stepping out, I find her sitting on the couch just looking out into the distance. “Isn’t it pretty?” I don’t answer her because there is another knock on the door.

“If that is more luggage, I’m sending them away.” I walk out, hearing her laughter. Opening the door, I see Cori with bags of Chick-fil-A in her hands.

“Where is she?” She comes in, dumping her purse on the chair with Kellie’s.

“Outside,” I tell her, and she looks at me, motioning me to follow her with her head. Walking out behind her, I see Kellie sitting at the round table looking out into the distance. She turns and spots Cori with her hands full of Chick-fil-A.

She shrieks and throws up her hands. “You love me.” Sitting up, she stretches her hands out to grab a bag. Cori places the five bags in the middle of the table. “Did you get extra honey mustard?”

“I got twenty-five packs,” Cori says to her, and her face almost drops. How much honey mustard does one person need? Kellie looks from Cori to me with a serious look on her face.

“You are shit out of luck if you think I’m sharing.” She grabs the bag with the sauce and opens it, looking inside.

“She doesn’t mess around when it comes to Chick-fil-A.” Cori tries to hide a smile. “Also, I didn’t know if you were a grilled chicken or a regular deep fried one.”