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Chapter 2

"Email... which one? Oh yeah, here it is. Found it, Liz—just give me a minute," I say to Elizabeth as I finally open the email in question.

"You are invited to..." I skim through the text. "Anti-bullying campaign... convention..." I scroll quickly until I reach the important details. "Taking place in L.A., USA, on the 20th of June, 2015. Please reply ASAP."

"Okay Liz, pack your bags—we're going to L.A. this time, girl. Yeah, yeah, we need to meet this week and go over the details. We've got time—it's a month away, sugar. Hey, don't get so excited! Yes, I know it's at the bloody Four Seasons—stop screaming in my ear! Bye, Liz."

I hang up, unable to wipe the smile off my face at her excitement.

Elizabeth is a member of the government-funded anti-bullying project team. I met her three years ago and we just... clicked. We're polar opposites, which I suppose is why we work so well together. She's expressive, animated, loud at times, and utterly unfiltered. She's even managed to get us into trouble mid-speech—like that one time at the European Council. But I find her refreshing. And Anzette just calls her "fun."

After Jason passed away, Liz became a breath of fresh air in our lives. She helped me see things from another angle—less weighed down, more open. She lives in the moment, her mantra being a very firm Carpe Diem. She's witty, bold, and although she's a book lover at heart, she jumps at anything extreme—bungee jumping, water sports, you name it. Somehow, she's even converted me a little. With Liz, there's no such thing as a dull moment.

This trip is important. We're expanding the campaign from the European Union to the States, which could be ground-breaking. But if we're being honest, it's also an excuse to enjoy a bit of sun, some luxury, and good company—all expenses paid.

Anzette will stay with my mother, as usual, and if the trip runs longer than expected, I'll fly her over.
Yeah... I'm excited too.
We're going to have fun. That much is guaranteed.

+++

"Hey Monet... are you okay, darling?" I ask as I enter the office, two cappuccinos in hand. I set one in front of her before switching on my computer.

"Yes... same old, same old," she says flatly, and I'm instantly concerned.

"Meaning?" I turn to face her, giving her my full attention.

"Dan and I had a fight..." she mutters.

"Again?" I sigh, unable to hide my frustration. Her eyes fall to the desk. I hate making her feel worse, but that relationship is... toxic, to say the least.

"Please don't start with the psychological mumbo jumbo, Ash," she whines, and I hold my tongue.

"I know what you and Jason had was wonderful, but not everyone is that lucky," she adds, and I can't help but smile at the mention of Jason. Instinctively, my eyes drift to the framed photo on the right corner of my desk—Jason, Anzette, and me, camping in a forest in Greece. The ache returns. Not as sharp. But still there.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, and let it go.

"Me too," she says quietly, and the conversation shifts.

"So," she continues, pulling up her notes, "you're leaving tomorrow afternoon at 17:15. Someone will collect you both at LAX—you'll see him holding a sign, standard protocol. You'll meet Mr. Davy, head of the project in California. He'll introduce you to the celebrities involved..."

"Who is it this time?" I exhale, my tone wary. Experience has taught me that working with celebrities isn't always glamorous.

"Who do you want it to be?" she grins.