Café | s.m (✔️)

epilogue: 2

"It was insane."

"Do you really believe her though?"

"Of course I do, she's my sister!" I reply harshly, out of defense, as Amber backs away slightly.

"I love Nora as much as you do, but who knows? Maybe you can interrogate her later. You guys are still going to that road trip to California together, right?" Amber asks me, and although I knew it was purely out of her care for me, I could tell there was unsureness in her voice.

She thought I would ditch my family in case some interview had come up.

"Yeah, I'm still going. But Nora will no doubt stop at every hotel possible to get some rest in."

"Can't she just sleep in the car? Nora said she didn't like hotels that much anyways, remember?"

Amber was kind of right. Nora didn't like hotels that much at all, and it had nothing to do with the fact that my somewhat ex was staying at the hotel next to our family cafe as he totally broke my heart into two pieces.

Amber and I spoke for a while longer, just spending time with each other at her apartment. My best friend had tried to make me lunch, saying herself that it would be nothing like Chef Ramsey could make.

She was right, in some sort of way. It was a peanut butter jelly sandwich, that I doubt Ramsey would be making any time soon. I gave props to Amber though, for not almost burning the place down like when she almost did while making hot dogs.

After our five star meal, Amber and I got into her car, ready to begin our drive. Although Mike, my security guard, had offered to drive us, he was no where close, so I had asked him to meet up with us.

As Amber drove, we both began rehearsing our lines. Even though we weren't having the first day of shooting,   Amber wasn't used to parties like these, the kinds that came before shooting. Of course, I wasn't either. Even though I had wanted to be an actress when I was younger, I had still turned into a singer.  So I wasn't exactly sure what would be different at this kind of party than any other I've been to.

Amber, however, decided to rehearse lines, on what to say when someone famous that wasn't me came up to her, greeted her, was rude to her, spilled their drink on her, and everything else she could possibly imagine. So I pretended to be the celebrity, for her rehearsing purposes.

"How do you feel about the concept of this contest?" I ask, pretending to be the host of the show, Rick. He was the one who had reached out to me, and asked for me to bring one of my closest friends with me to the show.

"It's amazing! For one, it's super unique. I mean, a huge haunted house to make me piss myself in? Yes ple- ugh! Can we have a do over?"

Amber was kind of right in her description. We've both seen the house we would be staying in, and it looked both huge and super haunted. We had been informed that no one had died in the house, but the producers had told us not to tell anyone else that. They only told us because Amber is a freak when it comes to ghosts. If something has ghosts in it, she's not there.

But anyways, we weren't just staying in a huge haunted looking house. That game itself sounded dreadfully boring. It was a house filled with celebrities and their one friend, and there would be tasks thrown our way.

In the competition, someone and their friend would be the killers. Of course, no one except them know who the killers are. But if you loose a competition, chances are you'll be "killed", and then eliminated from the show.