The Monday Girl (The Girl Duet Book 1) by Johnson Julie

Author:Johnson, Julie [Johnson, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9965108-7-5
Publisher: JOHNSON INK, Inc.
Published: 2016-12-06T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

“ T his is amazing .”

“Uh huh.”

“Kat! We are on a private jet.” Harper barrels past me, eager to explore the AXC plane’s luxurious interior. “Look! There’s a full bar. And it’s freaking catered, for god’s sake.”

“Uh huh.”

“There are canapés, Kat! Canapés .” She sighs. “Please, muster up a little enthusiasm.”

“I don’t even know what a canapé is.”

“Oh! They’re—”

“I don’t want to know. I like a little mystery in my life.”

She huffs. “You’re impossible.”

“Apologies for not being totally psyched to get on a tiny-ass aircraft and fly over open water for six hours, after spending the past three days rehearsing a plane crash.” I glance around — the cabin looks more like a lounge than a plane, with couch-like seats built facing each other along either side, a fully-stocked bar, a massive flatscreen television mounted on the wall, and a sleek coffee table, where trays of appetizers are waiting to be consumed. I sit down on one of the cream leather couches, buckle my seatbelt as tight as possible, and lean back with my eyes closed.

The previous day flew by in a blur, with Sloan pushing everyone to their breaking point as we finished in-studio filming. Grayson and I traded no more than a few words all day. I wasn’t ignoring him, necessarily, but I also didn’t go out of my way to converse. Then again, he was so busy trading sultry glances with the slutty PA, he didn’t seem to notice my taciturnity while the cameras were off.

When they were on, we didn’t have much chance to speak — most of the scenes we shot featured Beck unconscious, and Violet doing her damnedest to prevent him from bleeding to death due to the deep gash in his leg, all while keeping the raft upright as simulated waves crashed over the sides.

I found the hurricane scenes even more draining than the swimming ones — by the time we wrapped filming for the day, I was so cold and grumpy, I took Wyatt up on his offer for a ride home and promptly fell asleep on the way there. I woke in his arms as he carried me through my front door and tucked me into bed, barely stirring enough to murmur a thank you as he left.

Harper, bless her soul, helped me pack my travel clothes the previous night, so my only worry was setting my phone alarm to ping at six this morning — just enough time to scramble out of bed and make myself presentable for the ride to the airport. Ignacio seemed just as flustered by Harper’s enthusiasm as I was, when we collected her from her apartment along the way, Greg waving sourly from the window as we pulled from the curb.

Now, I hear her pouring herself a drink at the bar, murmuring under her breath about mimosas in a giddy tone.

“Who the hell thought filming on location in Hawaii was a good idea?” I grumble to myself, pulling my belt tighter and jostling to get more comfortable on the leather couch.

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