SIX DATES WITH JENNA
Chapter One
JOHNNY
Chapter One
JOHNNY
I NEED CAFFEINE, so if the woman in front of me doesn’t hurry up with the gab, I swear I’m going to drink this pop without paying first.
I glance at my watch.
She’s still ignoring me, still talking with the woman in front of me. Same camo jackets, same blond streaks in their hair. BFFs. And Clerk Lady apparently can’t do two things at once. Because when she speaks, her fingers stop moving on the cash register. Tick-tock goes the clock.
“Oh, you know my husband; if he’s not at the bar, he’s at Jim’s working on that lawn mower. They just ‘bout have the throttle adjusted, you know. It’s sure to kick up all kinds of dust at the races this summer.”
“It better,” Camo Thing 2 says. “You got skunked last year by Tyler, and he’s only seventeen!”
I jump as laughter rips through two sets of lungs damaged from years of cigarette smoke.
Lawn mower races? Are they kidding? Look at me-ee, Lady . . . I’m reaching for my Co-oke . . . gonna twist the top off . . . gonna start drink-ing . . . .
All I want to do is pay for this and get back on the road because I can hardly wait to see the latest in a long line of picturesque vacation spots my mother thinks will be just the thing for the four of us to finally find some family harmony.
Like I have time for family harmony. I have to be in Taiwan in two weeks.
And my sunglasses are bugging the crap out of me. I left my baseball hat in the car because the gas station minimart didn’t look too crowded, but now I’m regretting my decision. Clerk Lady has her eyes trained on me with that look—she knows who I am.
I step up to the counter to receive my sentence.
“I’d know those big brown eyes anywhere,” she cackles, pointing one finger at my face. The fingernail polish is chipped and cracked now, but I can see that it had been the color of red wine at some point. Fancy. “You’re Johnny Everett. I can’t believe it!”
She smacks her co-worker on the arm, nearly causing the woman to drop the chicken strips she’s cramming into a paper bag that is way too small. “Lookit, Jeannie. It’s Johnny Everett! Ain’t he as cute in person as he is in his movies?” She lets out a big, dramatic sigh. “Can I have your autograph? Do you do that? I don’t mean to bug ya, but me and my daughter just love you so much.”
“Ummm, sure. No problem.” I give her a smile, hoping the rest of the customers don’t care who I am; I’m not in the mood to stop traffic today. The clerk shoves a pad of paper and pen in my direction as she ignores the next customer.
“So, where’re you headed up on our mountain? You shore picked a crappy weekend to visit Mount Hood. Did you see that rain outside? I don’t think it’s ever gonna quit. I should’ve never moved here, neither. Never rained like this back in Alabama.” She looks at me again. “I’d think you have a mansion somewhere in sunny California to hang out in. You know, swimming pool and all that?” Again with the slapping of Chicken Strip Lady. “Did you hear that, Jeannie? Who’d visit us this week with the storms comin’ when you have a mansion in Los Angeles, huh?” She laughs so loud other customers crane their necks to see what’s going on at the counter.
“Don’t know, Jessie. Seems like an easy choice to make.” The other clerk starts shoving jojos in another tiny paper bag. Why don’t they use bigger bags? Easier to tell themselves they aren’t eating as much, maybe?
I stop thinking about how many fat grams is in a jojo, as well as how long in the gym it would take me to repair the kind of damage to my body a fried potato wedge would inflict, and I hand the pad back to the woman. These people would be better off eating the paper from that pad. I escape out of the gas station’s store but pause under the store’s awning. Rain pours from the steel-grey sky. Everyone else seeking shelter from the weather is discussing how it’s only supposed to only get worse before it gets better.
I look up one more time before darting to the car my father arranged for me at the Portland airport. It’s nice to live in a world where if I need a ride it appears, and today’s is a sweet little Jaguar. I turn the key and the car purrs to life. Sleek and black, it kicks nothing but ass. When the rain clears up, I’m taking this kitty on the mountain to see what she can do.
I pull out of the parking lot and head east on Highway 26, already starving. My road manager, Nick Huddleston, said there’s a small grocery store in the town of Zigzag, so that’s where I’m headed. Unfortunately, it means I have to risk another run-in with more colorful locals, but then I’m done with people until tomorrow.
Twenty-four hours. I’m trying to remember the last time I was alone for an entire day.
I’m never alone. At least not since my first big box office movie was released. I wasn’t even the star of The Lost Colony, but Mr. Leading Man Jake Reynolds made the fatal error of letting his fame go to his head. He spent his time dating every girl in sight after the movie was released, and now all the fans know he’s only in it to break hearts.
So Mr. Jake-the-Snake’s swoon meter took a nosedive, but there I was, in the same movie and twice as good-looking, or so the tabloids said. America noticed, then Brazil, France, the rest of Europe, and then all of Asia. I was some kind of overnight pandemic.
And then Shadowland came out last November. The first in a kung-fu trilogy, it was filmed mainly in Taiwan and across Southeast Asia, starring yours truly. It hit big. Really big.
I’d been recognized before, but now girls hang out on the sidewalk across the street from my home in Los Angeles. They bring chairs, food, cameras. It’s only a matter of time before someone pitches a tent. The bold ones stand on the sidewalk directly in front of my house, waiting for a glimpse of some sign I’m home.
And then came the photos.
I was washing my car. I took my shirt off because it was over one hundred degrees that day, no big deal. But those photos went viral, fan mail poured in, and my chest is now a common trending topic on Twitter. Game over.
Now I live behind sunglasses and under hats, just like Brad Pitt. Fun times. Nick usually hires extra goons depending on where we are, and I do crazy clown-car moves to fake out the paparazzi when I’m tired of being followed.
At least no one followed me here. I look in the rear-view mirror and see nothing but empty highway. The trees are blowing like crazy outside, and all I want is to get to the vacation home. A few houses finally appear scattered along the mountain road, and then I see a tiny sign for Zigzag. When the grocery store comes into sight, I slide the Jaguar into one of the remaining empty spots, count to three, jump out, and run for the door.
The store is packed. And I forgot my sunglasses and my hat. Great. I grab the last shopping basket and head for the deli. Food is disappearing rapidly, but I manage to find some sandwiches and a tub of potato salad that looks halfway edible. I only have to get through the night, because tomorrow my mother will be here. Apparently my mother can only find the kitchen when she’s on vacation, because at home we have a cook.
The candy aisle supplies my peanut M&Ms—it’s so good to be back in the States—and I grab some diet Cokes from the same aisle. I shouldn’t be drinking it at all, but coffee doesn’t have the same kick, and I’m slipping into serious jetlag-mode here.
Now I’m standing in front of the ice cream freezer, trying to remember the last time I had Ben & Jerry’s.
“Phish Food is pretty awesome.”
I turn and my eyes meet a pair of bright green ones, staring up at me from an adorable face framed in red waves. A fairy splashed freckles across her nose when she was born.
“Is that your favorite?”
“It’s one of them.” Mystery Girl smiles then reaches in the freezer. “This is good, too. Chunky Monkey. Unless you’re not a banana fan.”
“I like bananas. Good source of potassium.”
“You sound like my mother.” She laughs. “Which one?” The girl holds both of them up, but as she stands between them, I’m at a loss as to which of the three to choose. I want them all.
“Both?” I stick out my basket and she drops the two containers of ice cream in.
She looks in my basket. “You must be on vacation or else you don’t know how to cook.”
“Rude girl.” I act shocked and laugh. “Kidding. My parents get in tomorrow. They’ve rented us some kind of over-priced mansion in the woods for a couple of weeks. My mother will make up for all of my deli-eating tonight, don’t worry. Are you here on vacation?”
“I wish, but no. We live here, up the mountain above Zigzag. It seems like the whole county is in here, though, because of the storm. When it starts raining like this, especially since they’re predicting it to get worse, no one will want to leave the house, so they prepare like World War III is coming. Bread, milk, all that. So, what are you doing here? Filming? I thought you were starting your next movie in Asia soon.”
Now I’m shocked. I lean in, dropping my voice to a whisper. “You knew who I was? This whole time?”
“Of course. I might live in the middle of nowhere, but I know who Johnny Everett is.”
“Okay. So what’s your name? That’s only fair.”
“Jenna. Jenna Leigh. Pleased to meet you, and welcome to Zigzag.” She holds out her hand and I take it. I start to shake it, but instead hold it for longer than I should. Soft and warm. No rings. No fingernail polish. Just a charm bracelet. Blue beads and stars.
I meet her eyes again, but she blinks and breaks contact. It startles me. “Staring contest. You blinked. I won,” I say.
“So competitive.” She smiles. “Well, I should head back to my dad. I was supposed to be finding him some ice cream, not my generation’s George Clooney. Have a nice trip, Johnny.” She turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd.
She didn’t even ask for my autograph.
I glance at my watch.
She’s still ignoring me, still talking with the woman in front of me. Same camo jackets, same blond streaks in their hair. BFFs. And Clerk Lady apparently can’t do two things at once. Because when she speaks, her fingers stop moving on the cash register. Tick-tock goes the clock.
“Oh, you know my husband; if he’s not at the bar, he’s at Jim’s working on that lawn mower. They just ‘bout have the throttle adjusted, you know. It’s sure to kick up all kinds of dust at the races this summer.”
“It better,” Camo Thing 2 says. “You got skunked last year by Tyler, and he’s only seventeen!”
I jump as laughter rips through two sets of lungs damaged from years of cigarette smoke.
Lawn mower races? Are they kidding? Look at me-ee, Lady . . . I’m reaching for my Co-oke . . . gonna twist the top off . . . gonna start drink-ing . . . .
All I want to do is pay for this and get back on the road because I can hardly wait to see the latest in a long line of picturesque vacation spots my mother thinks will be just the thing for the four of us to finally find some family harmony.
Like I have time for family harmony. I have to be in Taiwan in two weeks.
And my sunglasses are bugging the crap out of me. I left my baseball hat in the car because the gas station minimart didn’t look too crowded, but now I’m regretting my decision. Clerk Lady has her eyes trained on me with that look—she knows who I am.
I step up to the counter to receive my sentence.
“I’d know those big brown eyes anywhere,” she cackles, pointing one finger at my face. The fingernail polish is chipped and cracked now, but I can see that it had been the color of red wine at some point. Fancy. “You’re Johnny Everett. I can’t believe it!”
She smacks her co-worker on the arm, nearly causing the woman to drop the chicken strips she’s cramming into a paper bag that is way too small. “Lookit, Jeannie. It’s Johnny Everett! Ain’t he as cute in person as he is in his movies?” She lets out a big, dramatic sigh. “Can I have your autograph? Do you do that? I don’t mean to bug ya, but me and my daughter just love you so much.”
“Ummm, sure. No problem.” I give her a smile, hoping the rest of the customers don’t care who I am; I’m not in the mood to stop traffic today. The clerk shoves a pad of paper and pen in my direction as she ignores the next customer.
“So, where’re you headed up on our mountain? You shore picked a crappy weekend to visit Mount Hood. Did you see that rain outside? I don’t think it’s ever gonna quit. I should’ve never moved here, neither. Never rained like this back in Alabama.” She looks at me again. “I’d think you have a mansion somewhere in sunny California to hang out in. You know, swimming pool and all that?” Again with the slapping of Chicken Strip Lady. “Did you hear that, Jeannie? Who’d visit us this week with the storms comin’ when you have a mansion in Los Angeles, huh?” She laughs so loud other customers crane their necks to see what’s going on at the counter.
“Don’t know, Jessie. Seems like an easy choice to make.” The other clerk starts shoving jojos in another tiny paper bag. Why don’t they use bigger bags? Easier to tell themselves they aren’t eating as much, maybe?
I stop thinking about how many fat grams is in a jojo, as well as how long in the gym it would take me to repair the kind of damage to my body a fried potato wedge would inflict, and I hand the pad back to the woman. These people would be better off eating the paper from that pad. I escape out of the gas station’s store but pause under the store’s awning. Rain pours from the steel-grey sky. Everyone else seeking shelter from the weather is discussing how it’s only supposed to only get worse before it gets better.
I look up one more time before darting to the car my father arranged for me at the Portland airport. It’s nice to live in a world where if I need a ride it appears, and today’s is a sweet little Jaguar. I turn the key and the car purrs to life. Sleek and black, it kicks nothing but ass. When the rain clears up, I’m taking this kitty on the mountain to see what she can do.
I pull out of the parking lot and head east on Highway 26, already starving. My road manager, Nick Huddleston, said there’s a small grocery store in the town of Zigzag, so that’s where I’m headed. Unfortunately, it means I have to risk another run-in with more colorful locals, but then I’m done with people until tomorrow.
Twenty-four hours. I’m trying to remember the last time I was alone for an entire day.
I’m never alone. At least not since my first big box office movie was released. I wasn’t even the star of The Lost Colony, but Mr. Leading Man Jake Reynolds made the fatal error of letting his fame go to his head. He spent his time dating every girl in sight after the movie was released, and now all the fans know he’s only in it to break hearts.
So Mr. Jake-the-Snake’s swoon meter took a nosedive, but there I was, in the same movie and twice as good-looking, or so the tabloids said. America noticed, then Brazil, France, the rest of Europe, and then all of Asia. I was some kind of overnight pandemic.
And then Shadowland came out last November. The first in a kung-fu trilogy, it was filmed mainly in Taiwan and across Southeast Asia, starring yours truly. It hit big. Really big.
I’d been recognized before, but now girls hang out on the sidewalk across the street from my home in Los Angeles. They bring chairs, food, cameras. It’s only a matter of time before someone pitches a tent. The bold ones stand on the sidewalk directly in front of my house, waiting for a glimpse of some sign I’m home.
And then came the photos.
I was washing my car. I took my shirt off because it was over one hundred degrees that day, no big deal. But those photos went viral, fan mail poured in, and my chest is now a common trending topic on Twitter. Game over.
Now I live behind sunglasses and under hats, just like Brad Pitt. Fun times. Nick usually hires extra goons depending on where we are, and I do crazy clown-car moves to fake out the paparazzi when I’m tired of being followed.
At least no one followed me here. I look in the rear-view mirror and see nothing but empty highway. The trees are blowing like crazy outside, and all I want is to get to the vacation home. A few houses finally appear scattered along the mountain road, and then I see a tiny sign for Zigzag. When the grocery store comes into sight, I slide the Jaguar into one of the remaining empty spots, count to three, jump out, and run for the door.
The store is packed. And I forgot my sunglasses and my hat. Great. I grab the last shopping basket and head for the deli. Food is disappearing rapidly, but I manage to find some sandwiches and a tub of potato salad that looks halfway edible. I only have to get through the night, because tomorrow my mother will be here. Apparently my mother can only find the kitchen when she’s on vacation, because at home we have a cook.
The candy aisle supplies my peanut M&Ms—it’s so good to be back in the States—and I grab some diet Cokes from the same aisle. I shouldn’t be drinking it at all, but coffee doesn’t have the same kick, and I’m slipping into serious jetlag-mode here.
Now I’m standing in front of the ice cream freezer, trying to remember the last time I had Ben & Jerry’s.
“Phish Food is pretty awesome.”
I turn and my eyes meet a pair of bright green ones, staring up at me from an adorable face framed in red waves. A fairy splashed freckles across her nose when she was born.
“Is that your favorite?”
“It’s one of them.” Mystery Girl smiles then reaches in the freezer. “This is good, too. Chunky Monkey. Unless you’re not a banana fan.”
“I like bananas. Good source of potassium.”
“You sound like my mother.” She laughs. “Which one?” The girl holds both of them up, but as she stands between them, I’m at a loss as to which of the three to choose. I want them all.
“Both?” I stick out my basket and she drops the two containers of ice cream in.
She looks in my basket. “You must be on vacation or else you don’t know how to cook.”
“Rude girl.” I act shocked and laugh. “Kidding. My parents get in tomorrow. They’ve rented us some kind of over-priced mansion in the woods for a couple of weeks. My mother will make up for all of my deli-eating tonight, don’t worry. Are you here on vacation?”
“I wish, but no. We live here, up the mountain above Zigzag. It seems like the whole county is in here, though, because of the storm. When it starts raining like this, especially since they’re predicting it to get worse, no one will want to leave the house, so they prepare like World War III is coming. Bread, milk, all that. So, what are you doing here? Filming? I thought you were starting your next movie in Asia soon.”
Now I’m shocked. I lean in, dropping my voice to a whisper. “You knew who I was? This whole time?”
“Of course. I might live in the middle of nowhere, but I know who Johnny Everett is.”
“Okay. So what’s your name? That’s only fair.”
“Jenna. Jenna Leigh. Pleased to meet you, and welcome to Zigzag.” She holds out her hand and I take it. I start to shake it, but instead hold it for longer than I should. Soft and warm. No rings. No fingernail polish. Just a charm bracelet. Blue beads and stars.
I meet her eyes again, but she blinks and breaks contact. It startles me. “Staring contest. You blinked. I won,” I say.
“So competitive.” She smiles. “Well, I should head back to my dad. I was supposed to be finding him some ice cream, not my generation’s George Clooney. Have a nice trip, Johnny.” She turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd.
She didn’t even ask for my autograph.
Chapter Two
JENNA
JENNA
“MOM! YOU WILL NEVER GUESS who I met at the store!”
“Calm down, Jenna. You’re tracking mud across the floor.”
“Oh, sorry!” I kick my muddy boots onto the back porch through the door my dad just opened.
“Easy there, kid. You almost got me.”
“Sorry, Dad.” I turn back to the kitchen to see my mother walking into the living room. I’m on her heels. “Mom, seriously. You will never guess who I met!”
“All right, I give up. Who?”
“Johnny Everett!”
Her puzzled expression only lasts for a minute before she asks, “Wait, that actor kid?”
“Yes! He was in the store. Our store! I met him at the ice cream freezer. I swear it was him!”
“He came to Zigzag to buy ice cream?”
“He said he was meeting his parents here tomorrow for vacation.” I take a seat on the couch and try to remember how to breathe.
After we left the store, Dad and I had checked on our older neighbors before the storm got any worse, but we were finally home. I’m soaking wet, but I don’t care. I can’t stop smiling. Johnny Everett. Here. In Zigzag.
I can’t stop thinking about his beautiful face. He touched my hand. I look at it and finally understand why people say, “I’ll never wash my hand again.”
“Well, they picked a horrible week for it, didn’t they?” My dad stokes the fire in the living room. The wind outside whistles across the top of the stovepipe. Rain lashes the windows. It’s getting worse out there.
“Maybe they didn’t know about the storm?” My pulse thrums through my head. I look at my mom, who has a worried look on her face.
“Where are they planning on staying? We don’t have hotels up to their speed up here,” she asks.
“He said something about an over-priced mansion in the woods.” My parents look at each other, but it’s not a good look. “What? Is that bad?”
“Probably Jim’s place,” my dad says.
“It’s the nicest,” my mom answers.
“He did say he had some VIPs coming out.”
“Yeah, Sheila was bragging about how much they were willing to pay for two weeks in the middle of January.”
“Oh, for pete’s sake, you guys, what?” I hate the looks on their faces. My clenched stomach refuses to relax. I look out the window at the relentless rain. “How bad is it supposed to be, Dad?”
“Bad.”
“Is he safe? Where is this house?”
“You know it. It’s the last house on the island. The huge timber frame at the end.” He wraps one arm around me and gives me a hug. “I need to make a call.” I hear him reporting Johnny’s location to someone on the other end of the line. The police?
“Mom, what is it?” I can barely speak.
“They’ve been evacuating people from all of the homes along the river for the last few hours, Jenna. It’s supposed to break its banks before this is over. But don’t worry. If they don’t get to him, the house Johnny is staying in—if he is in fact in Jim and Sheila’s house—is strong. It’s well-made and higher than the other homes. He should be fine as long as he stays inside. He’ll be fine.”
The second her words pass her lips, the power goes out.
“Calm down, Jenna. You’re tracking mud across the floor.”
“Oh, sorry!” I kick my muddy boots onto the back porch through the door my dad just opened.
“Easy there, kid. You almost got me.”
“Sorry, Dad.” I turn back to the kitchen to see my mother walking into the living room. I’m on her heels. “Mom, seriously. You will never guess who I met!”
“All right, I give up. Who?”
“Johnny Everett!”
Her puzzled expression only lasts for a minute before she asks, “Wait, that actor kid?”
“Yes! He was in the store. Our store! I met him at the ice cream freezer. I swear it was him!”
“He came to Zigzag to buy ice cream?”
“He said he was meeting his parents here tomorrow for vacation.” I take a seat on the couch and try to remember how to breathe.
After we left the store, Dad and I had checked on our older neighbors before the storm got any worse, but we were finally home. I’m soaking wet, but I don’t care. I can’t stop smiling. Johnny Everett. Here. In Zigzag.
I can’t stop thinking about his beautiful face. He touched my hand. I look at it and finally understand why people say, “I’ll never wash my hand again.”
“Well, they picked a horrible week for it, didn’t they?” My dad stokes the fire in the living room. The wind outside whistles across the top of the stovepipe. Rain lashes the windows. It’s getting worse out there.
“Maybe they didn’t know about the storm?” My pulse thrums through my head. I look at my mom, who has a worried look on her face.
“Where are they planning on staying? We don’t have hotels up to their speed up here,” she asks.
“He said something about an over-priced mansion in the woods.” My parents look at each other, but it’s not a good look. “What? Is that bad?”
“Probably Jim’s place,” my dad says.
“It’s the nicest,” my mom answers.
“He did say he had some VIPs coming out.”
“Yeah, Sheila was bragging about how much they were willing to pay for two weeks in the middle of January.”
“Oh, for pete’s sake, you guys, what?” I hate the looks on their faces. My clenched stomach refuses to relax. I look out the window at the relentless rain. “How bad is it supposed to be, Dad?”
“Bad.”
“Is he safe? Where is this house?”
“You know it. It’s the last house on the island. The huge timber frame at the end.” He wraps one arm around me and gives me a hug. “I need to make a call.” I hear him reporting Johnny’s location to someone on the other end of the line. The police?
“Mom, what is it?” I can barely speak.
“They’ve been evacuating people from all of the homes along the river for the last few hours, Jenna. It’s supposed to break its banks before this is over. But don’t worry. If they don’t get to him, the house Johnny is staying in—if he is in fact in Jim and Sheila’s house—is strong. It’s well-made and higher than the other homes. He should be fine as long as he stays inside. He’ll be fine.”
The second her words pass her lips, the power goes out.