Writing A Wrong (Write Stuff 2)

The flight turned out to be fairly uneventful, which allowed me to pound out an entire chapter, pushing me ahead of my word count schedule. I was all smiles by the time we landed in New York. Even my ankle felt better after a two-hour rest. The captain turned off the fasten seatbelt sign as I gathered my bag from under the seat and the flight attendants ushered the first-class passengers off the plane first. I had to admit, I could already see myself getting spoiled by first class. If this was the type of treatment I would receive for the rest of the trip, I would have

no complaints.

Surprisingly, the terminal at LaGuardia seemed dead in comparison to what I'd left behind in Orlando. Following the signs, I made my way to baggage claim in record time and was one of the first passengers at the luggage carousel. I found a spot against the wall and turned on my cell phone while waiting for my bags to come tumbling out of the chute. It was always torture to be without my phone for an entire flight, but it made focusing on work so much easier. It also meant that I looked like a crack addict needing a fix by the time I turned on the phone again.

I smiled when I clicked on the message icon to find that Alec had sent me a couple texts. Miss your face already. I sighed while reading it until I saw his next message. He had taken a picture of Severus with a little note attached to his neck that read: So do I. Severus didn't look at all pleased, but it still cracked me up.

I miss you both too, I returned as the luggage carousel began to move.

The rest of the passengers from the flight had arrived and surrounded the carousel, eagerly waiting for their luggage. My good luck continued as my bags were two of the first pieces to leave the chute.

LaGuardia was officially my favorite airport. I snatched my suitcases off the spinning carousel and dragged them to the side to scan the area. Olivia had guaranteed that my publisher would have a car waiting for me.

"Ms. Blake?" a voice inquired to my left.

"Yes," I answered, turning toward a guy with boyishly good looks who appeared to be roughly my age. He was wearing a suit that might have been a size too small. It looked a bit rumpled, like something one of my brothers would wear if forced to for the right occasion. You could tell he would be more comfortable in something else—probably jeans and a T-shirt. A lock of hair fell across his forehead, but he brushed it back only to have it fall back a second later.

"I'm Greg. I'll be your assistant/driver/event organizer and everything else in between for the next month and a half."

I raised an eyebrow. An assistant? That was something new. Olivia was the only assistant I needed, and she would be with me for almost two weeks. "A month and half?" I asked, latching on to the second part of his statement. I could see needing someone for the bus tour, but that wasn't for another two weeks and would only last a month. The publisher planned for the tour to end on Valentine's Day in Philadelphia, which was voted one of the most romantic cities in America by a reader survey they had done. That was how they came up with the twenty cities for the tour. Each one had made the list. Time would tell if by the end of the trip I would find myself romantically inspired or ready to hang myself with a licorice whip.

Greg nodded. "I believe it's something your agent insisted on. I've been briefed on your itinerary and it was explained to me that my job is to make things as easy as possible for you. Chocolate, Cheez Doodles, Starbucks—I'm your guy," he said, grinning.

"How did you know I like—wait, you've been talking to Olivia?"

"Guilty," he replied, grabbing the handles of my suitcases and wheeling them out the door.

This trip was definitely looking up. Having my own assistant seemed a little pretentious, but I couldn't deny that a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. Maybe I'd survive this extravaganza after all. "Hey, I can get one of those," I said, trailing after him.

"Please. You're the talent. How would it look if you were carrying your own luggage?"

"Oh God. If I would've known I'd be walking through this much shit, I would have worn my waders."

"Just a little humor. Not that I'm going to hand over one of the bags. This is job security for me. Gotta make sure I pull my weight," he joked, leading me toward a nondescript black SUV. I grinned, feeling instantly at ease. Meeting new people was never easy for me, but I could already tell Greg and I were going to get along. He reminded me of my brothers.

The temperature in New York in January was noticeably different than what I had left in Florida. There was no snow on the ground, but it was cold nonetheless. Even though I had dressed appropriately, I was already shivering as we made our way to the vehicle. Greg noticed my reaction and started the vehicle to get the heat running before stowing my luggage in back.

"Here you go," he said, opening the door for the second row. Shaking my head, I opened the front passenger door and climbed in, leaving him with a puzzled look. "I'd rather sit up front," I said, closing the door. I kicked an empty Mountain Dew bottle out of the way and tossed the empty fast food bag that was on my seat to the second row.

"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly as he climbed into the driver's seat. "I was running behind and grabbed a quick bite. I thought you'd be sitting back there."

"Don't sweat it. I have three brothers. This is nothing compared to their cars. It takes a shovel and a gas mask to clean out my brother Tony's car."

Greg flashed another grin. "Well, this is actually cleaner than normal. Sometimes I collect so much stuff it looks like I'm living in here."

"Do you live in the city?" I asked, grasping the armrest on the door. Greg's driving was more aggressive than I was used to. He whipped from lane to lane, around several taxis and a city bus. No matter how many times I traveled to New York City I would never get used to the traffic. Every moment felt like an accident waiting to happen. I should have sucked down a drink before we left the airport to dull my senses, or better yet, one of those tranquilizers they give to traveling pets.

"Nah, too rich for my blood. I got a place over in Jersey."

"So you drive in this mess every day?" I closed my eyes, wishing that I would have taken his original suggestion of sitting in the back seat.

"Oh, no way. I take the bus and train into the city." He blasted his horn at a motorcycle that narrowly swerved in front of us, causing my eyes to jump open again. My hands moved instinctively to the dashboard, bracing for a collision. The constant stop-and-go motion of the vehicle combined with Greg's insistence on switching back and forth between lanes was making me nauseous. "You know, it's probably a good idea to get me there in one piece," I muttered, looking up at the ceiling in the vehicle.

He chuckled, patting my hand that gripped the center console for dear life. "Don't be afraid. I've got plenty of experience at this. Plus, this baby is built like a tank." He patted the steering wheel reassuringly.

"That's great, but I have a thing about accidents, and bridges, by the way. So understand—you are killing me right now." Bridges under normal circumstances freaked me out. Combine them with New York traffic and I was in hell. I suddenly felt a twinge of homesickness thinking of Alec. If he were here, we'd have a laugh while he teased me about my long list of phobias.

Chapter 7