“Some of them actually camped overnight,” Carina said. She glanced at her phone as a text came in. “Okay. Let’s go. Phil, we’ll be back in, like, ten minutes unless I text you.”
“Sounds good, Miss. I’ll just circle the block for a bit.”
“Ten minutes?” I said. Was she out of her mind? Did she not see the line? “What’re you—”
But Carina had already opened the door of the car. Everyone on line near us turned to look, as if expecting someone famous to be stepping out, and a few of them actually did gasp when they saw us. What the heck was happening? Carina slipped on a pair of sunglasses and looked at the open door, where the line was snaking through. A woman with a short blond haircut and an earpiece in her ear popped her head out, smiled, and waved us forward.
Carina took my arm. “Just stay close.”
“Okay, who are you?” I demanded as she pulled me across the sidewalk and past the eager fans. Some of them yelled at us and cursed as we slipped past them into the store. Others actually used their phones to take our picture.
“Carina! I’m so glad you’re here. He’ll be so excited you decided to come,” the blond woman said to Carina as she led us through the shop.
“I’m really here more for Tess,” Carina said. “Tess, this is Faith. She’s Adam Michel’s personal publicist. Faith, meet my friend Tess.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Tess,” Faith said. “And thank you for getting Carina down here.”
I stared at Carina’s profile, but she refused to look at me. Suspicions were starting to eat away at the back of my skull, but none seemed able to form themselves into a coherent thought.
The line went right down the center aisle of the small store, ending at a table in the back where Adam Michel himself sat, smiling up at a fan as he signed her book. I almost tripped at the sight of him, my breath catching in my throat, and forgot all about the Carina weirdness. It was really him. Adam Michel. Sitting not five feet away from where I was standing. His dark hair was spiked up in front, and he wore a black leather jacket and his dozens of signature necklaces. His black eyeliner was perfectly applied, and his fingernails were painted a deep purple. I’d had this man’s poster on my wall since I was in third grade and had seen him perform on a zillion different awards shows on TV. I couldn’t believe I was now breathing the same air as him.
Faith left us near the corner of the table and slid behind it, leaning down toward Adam’s ear from behind his shoulder.
“Adam!” she said quietly as he handed over the book. “Look who’s here.”
He looked up, and his whole face lit up. “Carina! Sweetheart!”
Carina smiled. “Hi, Daddy.”
* * *
• • •
So. I got Adam Michel’s autograph. And a half dozen pictures with him. And then we all had lunch together in the back room of the bookstore after he was done signing about three hundred books. I found out he doesn’t drink soda, because he thinks it’s poison. That all the rumors about him having a foul mouth were untrue. And that he had a daughter my age whose last name was Granger (Michel was a stage name), who he’d mostly kept secret, until it had leaked a few weeks ago on some gossip site along with a picture of the two of them swimming in St. Bart’s. I had somehow missed this, but it was the reason Carina hadn’t wanted to come to the bookstore. She’d always tried to stay out of the spotlight, and didn’t want to lose her right to privacy now.
But she’d made this one appearance. For me.
“Thank you,” I told her as Phil drove us back to the Lodge. “I really can’t thank you enough.”
“It was my pleasure, honestly. Also, it made him happy, so it’s a win-win.”
I couldn’t believe I’d met Adam Michel. I couldn’t believe I was now friends with Adam Michel’s daughter. Lauren was going to lose her mind over missing this, and Christopher was going to freak out when I showed him the list.
My heart thunked. Christopher.
I took out my phone. Maybe this was the way to get through to him. To show him I was still working on the list. Would it hurt his feelings, though, to know I was doing it without him?
I thought of my mom and remembered. This wasn’t about him. But I still missed him. I didn’t want him to think back on this whole thing and hate me, either. I texted him.
Missed you today. Hope you’re having fun at your cousins’.
I put the phone facedown in my lap and counted to one hundred. When I looked at it again, my face flushed. No response. Normally, this wouldn’t upset me much, because I don’t necessarily expect everyone in the world to be looking at their phone twenty-four seven. But I knew Christopher was. He had almost nothing else to do with his time.
And suddenly, I wanted him to know that I was still on my mission, with or without his help. I wanted to show him that he hadn’t derailed me.
I scrolled through my photos and found a shot of me and Adam holding up his book and sent it to Christopher.
#7 Complete! Wish you were here!
I didn’t care whether or not he’d think that last comment was sarcastic. Really I didn’t. This time I put my phone away, refusing to watch for a response. One more item down, only four more to go.
TESS’S NEW YEAR’S BUCKET LIST
Make a paper airplane that actually flies (20 seconds at least) ✓
Sing in public ✓
Strike up a conversation with a stranger ✓
Wear high heels outside the house ✓
Make out with a guy whose last name I don’t know (???)
TP someone’s house
Get Adam Michel’s autograph ✓
Get a short, stylish haircut
Ski a black diamond slope ✓
Eat sushi
I went to the gingerbread house–building contest, hoping to see Loretta. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. And that she didn’t entirely hate me. It wasn’t like her not to get in touch for the whole morning, and I was starting to worry. Maybe this lawsuit thing was eating away at her. Maybe it was even more serious than I feared. Besides, after meeting my idol and getting more than halfway done with my list, I was feeling magnanimous. I could do this for Loretta. Maybe it would even cheer her up. Maybe it would even help the two of us make up.