Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Lana
I wait in the green room, biting my lip and watching for Teddy to reappear when a young woman in a floral headband like Daisy’s ventures in.
“Excuse me, are you Lana Langmeyer?”
“Yes?” If I sound uncertain, it’s because I’m not sure I should confess my identity. That’s probably why Teddy’s so upset. I shouldn’t have gotten on stage in front of everyone—I just got caught up in the moment.
“I hoped it was you! I’m not a resident, so I’m not voting, and I figured I could catch you back here. I’m a huge, huge fan of GoddessWear.” She splays her hands, showing off the fitted dress that hugs her curves and soft belly. The design is my most popular.
“I can see that. You look wonderful. The lavender suits you.”
“Thank you!” She touches her hair and grimaces, pulling off her head band. “I know it clashes with the fake flowers. My grandma likes to see me in daisies.”
“I think it’s adorable. What’s your name?”
“Maisy. Well, it’s Daisy, but everyone calls me Maisy. OMG,” she says, putting her hands to her pink cheeks. “I can’t believe I’m really talking to you! I wasn’t sure it was you, but then I saw Instagram. I’m a huge fan of your company.”
“That’s wonderful…” My stomach lurches as I realize what she said. “But what did you see on Instagram?”
“Oh!” Maisy holds up her phone. “Someone posted and tagged you.”
Icicles zing up my spine. Someone recorded my impromptu presentation. There I am, on stage, my pink hair on full display. The comment reads: “At a town meeting, and this chick looks just like Lana. @GoddessLana, is this you?” Because I’m tagged, a bunch of people have commented. “Gurl, luv the hair!” Someone else tagged Anara, and now her fans are commenting. There’s over a thousand likes already.
“Oh no…” I tighten the hood around my hair, as if that’ll help. “Can you take this down? I’m not supposed to be here.”
“No, sorry, I didn’t post it.”
“Crap.” I sway on my feet and close my eyes.
“Is that bad? Are you in hiding?”
Maisy sounds concerned, so I open my eyes and try to force a smile. I feel ill.
“Sort of. It’s not good if people know I’m here.” Or alive at all. “Is there a back door to this place?” I look around, ready to rush out right now. I won’t, of course, I’ll wait for Teddy.
“Yes, it’s back that way.”
“Thank you. Is the vote almost done?”
“It’s over,” Teddy says from the door, and I run to him. “We need to be going.”
I wave to Maisy, trying to act normal. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Come on.” Teddy hustles me to the back. We pass Darius, who’s stacking the placards of his presentation against the wall.
“Bye, Lana,” he calls. I don’t like his tone of voice.
“What happened?” I ask Teddy. “Did the vote pass?”
“No. Your presentation did its job. Enough people were convinced they had other options and didn’t need to jump on Darius’ scheme.”
I gulp. That’s good, right? Teddy looks like he wants to punch something.
“Teddy,” I clutch his arm. “Daisy’s granddaughter showed me her phone. Someone recorded me and put it on Instagram. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, babygirl.” A little of his Teddy gentleness slips into his otherwise strained voice. “I got the alert from my Army buddies–they’re monitoring your name, and they can get the video down.”
“Is there a chance the assassin didn’t see it?”
“We’ll figure that out. Right now, I need to get you to safety.”
Safety turns out to be yet another cabin deep in the woods. This one is by a waterfall.
“This is Matthias's place. It should be secure.”
I sink onto the couch. Teddy paces back and forth. He was silent the whole ride here.
Something’s really wrong.
“You’ll be safe here.” He heads for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to call my friends back and talk with Matthias about something.”
I rise, wringing my hands. “Teddy, please talk to me. You’re upset, I can tell.”
He stops with his hand on the doorknob, his head dropping.
“I’m sorry I got on stage,” I say. “I was just trying to help.”
“Yeah. Help.” He rubs his eyes. “Did you talk out your plan beforehand with Hutch and Canyon?”
“We talked about some of it. My uncle Benny, filming the commercial. The concert idea I got when we drove past the festival site.”
“I see.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
He still hasn’t turned around to look at me. “This isn’t going to work.”
“What?”
“You’re famous.
“Not that famous.”
“Someone recognized you right away. And all your ideas to raise money–they all involve tons of press and new traffic to the mountain. You’re supposed to be dead, Lana. You can’t hook up your phone and start calling people.”
“Crap,” I whisper. “I didn’t think.”
“No, the problem is, you did think. You thought like a human.”
I flinch.
Teddy continues, “Did you really think that bringing the press and a bunch of cameras onto the mountain would solve our problems?”