Where You Are

I’m not her. I’m not her. I will never be her.

Chapter 20

Emma

“I had no idea how often you eat.” After this morning’s interview in San Bernardino, Reid and I set off for San Diego. We’ll do our last early-morning interview of the week there tomorrow, and somehow he talked me into letting him drive us instead of flying.

He’s already claimed to be starving to death twice, though he admits to having eaten breakfast. First stop: two hash browns, three eggs and orange juice at McDonald’s; second stop: a grande caramel macchiato from Starbucks and a protein bar from the glove compartment. Now we’re keeping our eyes peeled for an In-N-Out somewhere just off I-15, right before we get into San Diego, and it’s not even noon.

“I need a few thousand calories a day or I’ll start losing muscle. Right after I pass out.”

I scowl at him. I haven’t so much as looked at a fast food burger in three months, and I’ve already planned a room-service salad for my lunch. “I hate you.”

He laughs. “You’re going to get something this stop, right? Burger? Chocolate shake?”

My mouth drops open. “Are you serious? We’re going to be on Ellen next week. Don’t you remember what the media did to me last fall when I ate bread one day?”

Crap. I can’t believe I just reminded him of that.

He gives me a wicked grin. “Ah, yeah, the infamous baby bump week.” He chuckles when I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “Emma, you can’t take that stuff personally—it’s just meaningless gossip.”

“How can I not take it personally when people all over the world are discussing which cast hottie knocked me up?”

He makes a psshh sound, dismissing my argument. “A bunch of stupid speculation, all proved to be fictional in the end.”

I sigh heavily. “That’s exactly what I mean—why should I have to prove that sort of thing to anyone? It’s nobody’s business.”

He’s staring straight out the windshield and I’m wondering if he’s going to respond when he points and says, “Ha! There it is.” As he exits the highway, he opens the center console, pulls out a Lakers cap and shoves it over his trademark dirty-blond hair. He grins, his blue eyes well hidden behind his mirrored Ray-Bans. “Whaddaya think—regular guy?”

Of course—because a Lakers cap and Ray-Bans are automatic regular-guy camouflage. We’d been lucky on the other two stops—the person at the window each time was older and hadn’t recognized him. “Reid, we aren’t in Beverly Hills or even Long Beach, and you’re driving a yellow—whatever this is.”

Pulling into the parking lot, he shakes his head. “It’s a Lotus. And we’re cruising around So-Cal, not Kansas.”

I shrug, suppressing a laugh, wondering if he’s actually this clueless about regular people or if he’s just screwing with my head. “Whatever you say, Mr. Regular Guy.”

Once he lowers his window, the aroma of fries is overwhelming, and my stomach gurgles in protest. I haven’t eaten fries since the last time Emily forced half of hers on me in her typical manner: Get your ass back, would ya? It’s practically nonexistent back there. Reid orders a burger with three meat patties and no cheese, wrapped in lettuce instead of a bun, and a gigantic vanilla shake. “Are you sure you don’t want something?”

Clenching my jaw, I shake my head, willing myself not to breathe through my nose.

When we pull up to the window, the girl working the register tells Reid the total as she turns towards him, and then she nearly stops breathing. He hands her a fifty and her hands shake as she pulls bills and coins from the cash drawer. She has to start her tally over three times. Finally, she hands him his change, but forgets to count it back. Wide-eyed, her hands still trembling, she just shoves the money into his hands all at once.

“Thanks,” he smiles, and she looks as though she might faint.

“You’re welcome,” she squeaks, backing away from the window before disappearing around a corner.

Reid stuffs wadded bills into the front pocket of his jeans and tosses the coins into a cup holder as we wait for the food.

“This is just a guess, mind you—but I think she may have seen through your elaborate Regular Guy disguise.”

His mouth twists up on one side. “Smart ass.”

“Just sayin’.”

Three girls and one guy, all four of them stuffing into the tiny window space, deliver his food, which consists of one small paper bag and one large Styrofoam cup. Our original cashier hands him the shake as four pairs of eye shift back and forth between us, and the guy hands him the bag. It doesn’t take long for them to figure out my identity, too—I hear my name whispered amongst them.

“Would you like extra napkins?” a second girl asks, handing out a stack two inches thick without waiting for an answer.

“Here’s your straw!” the third girl waves it out the window, blinking rapidly as Reid reaches to take it from her hand.

“Will there be anything else?” the boy asks, beaming.

“No thanks, this is perfect.” Reid turns his smile on them again, and four sighs come from the window. I roll my eyes behind my sunglasses, not that anyone notices.

We park near an exit, windows down, so he can wolf down the unwieldy beef and lettuce burger. He tries to hand me the shake. “Have some.”

“No.”

Toggling it back and forth, he turns on the full-wattage Reid Alexander smile. “I got the large so there would be enough to share.”