Chapter 4
4
RYAN
I set my bags in the booth and slip onto the bench beside them. My eyes scan the diner, looking for a camera, a look of recognition, something to tell me I’d been found, but I don’t see any of it. Not one person pays attention to me.
Well, that’s not true. When I entered the diner in the early afternoon, several sets of eyes all turned to check out the newcomer, but no one appeared to have recognized me. It felt good, honestly. This is exactly why I chose this place. It’s not named on any top destination list for its exotic blue waters and white sandy beaches, and frankly, it’s in the middle of nowhere. I had it narrowed down to two places: here and a cabin in the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. But the idea of driving up and down the mountains didn’t really appeal to me, so here we are.
From what I’ve seen in a short time and from what Dale said this morning, the cuisine is homemade, home-cooked, and delicious. I splurged on a cinnamon roll from the bakery this morning, enjoying it with a sugar-free iced salted caramel latte with skim milk. The friendly woman at the counter told me calories don’t count on the weekend, as she plated me the biggest roll in the display case. I felt a little guilty as I ate the entire treat, vowing it would be my one opportunity to indulge while in town.
Then I arrived here.
Normally, I’d skip lunch altogether, even a late one like today, but as I was walking past the diner, I caught a whiff of something delicious. Like a moth to a flame, it drew me in. I try to keep my eyes cast downward, while still taking in the ambiance of the diner. Several booths are filled, as well as some tables in the middle of the room and barstools at the counter, despite it being midafternoon.
“Good afternoon,” a polite woman wearing a warm smile says as she approaches my table and places a small stack of napkins and a menu on the table. “I’m Ellie, can I get you something to drink?”
I scan the list of refreshments, noticing immediately the lack of sparkling water. “Ummm,” I say, recalling the water situation at the cabin. “Is your water bottled?”
“Sorry, it’s not. It’s tap water.”
I swallow and return my eyes to the menu. There’s a lot of soft drink options, but that’s never been my thing. There’s lemonade listed, and when I open my mouth to order that, Ellie says, “May I make a suggestion?”
I nod. “Sure.”
“Sweet tea. It’s like it has crack in it or something,” she says with a chuckle.
My eyebrows draw up.
“Oh! It doesn’t,” she assures me. “It’s just that good.”
“Okay, I’ll try it,” I reply, hoping I’m not making a mistake. I can just read the headlines now. Reality Show Star Drinks Crack Tea in Front of Children.
No, they’ll probably tell the world I was giving it to them with a smile on my face.
“I’ll go grab it for you and give you another second to look at the menu,” Ellie says, taking off behind the counter.
I browse the menu, taking in the salad options listed, but my eyes betray me. The specials board at the front of the diner proudly boasts bacon-wrapped meatloaf as one of today’s offerings. There’s also a summer Cobb salad, which is what I should definitely order, but I can’t help but stare at the top option, written in bright-blue lettering.
“Do you need another minute?” Ellie asks, placing my sweet tea on the table.
“Well,” I start, scanning the salads to make a selection. “I had a big breakfast, so I should probably stick to a salad.”
Ellie nods in understanding. “The summer Cobb salad is pretty good. It has fresh avocado and candied pecans and cranberries on the top, but if you’re open to another suggestion, get the meatloaf. It’s famous and so good. We usually sell out and Saul never makes it on the weekend, but he’s filling in today. Otherwise, you’ll have to wait until Monday to get it and it’s usually gone fast.”
My vision returns to the board, where the special is posted. Bacon-wrapped meatloaf, mashed sweet potatoes, and fresh green beans, and suddenly, I find myself requesting that particular special over the salad.
Ellie grins widely. “You won’t regret it,” she informs me. “I’ll get your order put in. Let me know if the tea is okay, or if you’d prefer something else.”
Once she walks away to the kitchen, I pull out my cell phone. Usually, the first thing I’d do is check my social media pages, but that’s not what I’m going to do. In fact, I deactivated them Wednesday, following the season finale of my reality show Tuesday night.
A night I’ll never forget.
I swallow over the lump forming in my throat and take a hesitant sip of the sweet tea. I’ve heard of it, of course I have. Even a city girl like myself would recognize tea on the menu, though it’s usually unsweetened where I come from. People who live in LA and work in the industry don’t add extra sugar to anything, tea included.
But the moment the sweet, iced drink hits my tongue, it’s like an explosion of flavor. It’s like summer in a glass, and I take a long drink from the straw. “Holy shit,” I mutter, staring down at the contents of the glass.
“Right?” Ellie sings as she walks by, delivering steaming plates of food to the booth beside mine. After dropping off the plates, she pauses where I sit. “Told you. Like crack in a glass.”
“It’s delicious,” I say, preparing to take a photo of the amazing drink to post on my socials.
Then, it hits me. I’m not doing that anymore.
I’m taking a month away to collect my thoughts and to find myself. That’s where my focus needs to be, not on posting photos of the most delicious sweet tea ever brewed for my millions and millions of followers. That singular post would cause a flurry of online activity, including the trending of the popular drink and a rush of patrons to flock to the very diner I featured in my post.
A cold chill sweeps through me.
The last thing I want is to cause nice people like Ellie to have to deal with the fallout of my followers inundating the town. Sure, there might be some financial profit from their onslaught of visitors, but I’ve witnessed the dark side of it too. The online trashing of businesses, people, and everything in between. Going viral has its benefits, but you have to be ready to deal with the negatives too.
“Here ya go,” Ellie returns, her cheery smile present as she places a plate in front of me.
“Oh my God, there’s so much food,” I whisper, taking in the heaping slab of meatloaf, more than generous scoop of mashed sweet potatoes, and mountain of buttery green beans.
Ellie chuckles. “We don’t like to send anyone away hungry.”
“I guess,” I mutter, wondering how I’m going to eat even half the food on this plate. “This is more than I normally eat in a day.” Probably two days, honestly.
“Oh, honey. Stick around here for a few weeks. We’ll fatten you up.”
My eyes widen as I gape back at the server.
My shock causes her to laugh and bat her hand my way. “Oh, I don’t mean literally. Though, I’m sure we can definitely help if you’re looking to put on a few pounds. Between us and the bakery, we’d be set.”
I think about the cinnamon roll I had this morning. “Calories don’t count on the weekend.”
Ellie laughs. “You met Jillian. We went to high school together. Her treats are sinful, but thankfully, calories don’t count on the weekend.” She winks before adding, “Holler if you need anything.” She heads off to check on others, leaving me alone with my mountain of food.
“Well, here goes nothing,” I mumble to myself as I reach for my fork.
The meatloaf, coated in crispy bacon and a mixture of ketchup and barbecue sauce practically falls apart when I cut into it. I tell myself I’ll just eat a little and take the rest back to my cabin. This way, I’ll have lunch or dinner tomorrow too. But the moment I take my first bite, I realize my mistake. Thinking this is anything but extraordinary is a gross understatement.
“Holy crap,” I murmur, closing my eyes and savoring the mouthwatering deliciousness that is Saul’s bacon-wrapped meatloaf.
Then, I try the mashed sweet potatoes, something I wouldn’t even have considered if I saw it on a menu in Los Angeles or New York, but my word, I’m not sure I’ve tasted anything so uniquely delectable. I’ve dined in the best restaurants in the United States. I’ve eaten Michelin-star cuisine from around the world. But this? I’m not sure much beats home-cooked diner food in Podunk, Wisconsin.
Clearly, I’m either incredibly starved or it’s been too long since I’ve traveled to enjoy fine cuisine.
“How’s the food?” Ellie asks, stopping by my booth and refilling my sweet tea.
Holding my hand up to cover my mouth, I finish chewing before replying honestly, “It’s amazing.”
She smiles warmly. “I’m so glad you like it. And I take it by the almost-empty glass, you like the tea?”
I nod, ready to dig into another hearty bite of food. “Thank you so much. I’ll have to eat salads for the next week, but I’m so glad I splurged.”
“Me too. Oh, and if you have room afterward, there’s some peach pie up at the counter. It’s best with a scoop of ice cream, but it’s still delicious on its own.” She winks before moving down the row to help her other customers.
I almost groan. I’m going to gain twenty pounds over the next four weeks if I’m not careful. I most definitely need to pace myself throughout the course of my stay. Diving back into my food with gusto, even though I told myself I’d just eat a little, I end up devouring half the plate. My stomach is full to the point of misery, but I don’t regret it. It was that good.
“How long are you in town for?” Ellie asks when she returns with a Styrofoam container for my leftovers.
“A month,” I confirm.
“Really? You’re going to love it here. It’s the best place to visit.” She blushes. “Well, not that I have a lot of experience traveling. I’ve only ever lived here. But it’s an amazing little town, and summer is always a great time. It gets warm but not too hot, and if you like the outdoors, there’s always something to do.”
I make a face at that thought. “I’m not what most would consider outdoorsy, but I’m excited to relax and unwind for a bit.”
“Where are you from?”
“Los Angeles,” I reply, glancing around to see if anyone overheard or has since recognized me.
“Really? That’s cool. I’ve never been, but I could only imagine. All those stars everywhere. It would be so neat to see some famous people. I’ve never met anyone. It’s not like we get a lot here in Pine Village,” she says with a laugh.
Internally, I cringe.
If she only knew.
“Listen, this might sound a little forward since we don’t really know each other, but some friends of ours are having a cookout tomorrow afternoon. My husband, son, and his girlfriend will be joining me, and if you don’t have anything to do, I’d love for you to join us.”
Surprised by her invitation, I don’t reply right away. I’m used to being invited to the biggest parties with the biggest names, but this? I wasn’t prepared for an offer to attend a barbecue.
“Sorry, that was really direct. I’m sure you already have plans anyway, but if not, here,” she says, pulling out her pad of paper and writing. “This is the address for my friend’s cabin. There won’t be a ton of people there, but maybe fifteen-ish? Four or five couples, some kids, and some single friends. Not that I’m trying to set you up or anything,” she quickly adds, rocking from side to side as if she were uncomfortable.
“Umm, I’m not really sure what I’m doing, but I appreciate the offer.”
“I think you’d like my friends. They’re pretty great,” she adds with an endearing shrug, and I can’t help but want to spend time with her and her friends.
I don’t know what it is about Ellie, but she seems genuine and real. Pretty much everyone I know back in California is the exact opposite. They’re fake as hell and usually only care about themselves or what you can do for them.
I can’t help but think about Vaughn.
The ultimate user.
“Here’s your check. You can pay at the counter when you’re ready, but no rush,” Ellie says, collecting my dirty plate but leaving my sweet tea. “Oh,” she starts, stopping before she gets away from my table, “I’m so rude. I don’t think I even caught your name.”
I can’t help but smile. “It’s Jade.” My middle name rolls off my tongue easily, as it always does when I’m looking to stay under the radar.
She returns the gesture. “Jade. I like that. Well, Jade, hope to see you tomorrow, but if not, maybe I’ll see you around. Enjoy your stay in Pine Village.”
“Thank you.”
I pull out my wallet and retrieve a larger than standard tip, considering my bill is about twelve dollars. I always tip generously, but Ellie was a delight. She was efficient, friendly, and her recommendations were on point.
Taking one final sip of my sweet tea and gathering my bags, including my leftovers, I head for the front counter with cash in hand. “Hi there,” the older woman greets when I approach. “How was your meal?”
“It was delicious, thank you.”
“Happy to hear. I’m Frannie, the owner,” she says, pulling change out of the old cash register.
“Nice to meet you, Frannie. I’ll definitely be back,” I tell her.
As I make my way toward the entrance, a small group of teen girls are walking in. I lower my head and avoid eye contact, but just as I try to slip through the door, I hear one of them gasp. “Oh my God, that’s Ryan Marcotte!”
I keep my gaze down, hoping to slip by them without any inquiries, but unfortunately, luck is not on my side. “Excuse me, are you Ryan Marcotte?” one of the other girls asks, stepping in front of me and blocking my escape.
I look up, startled. “Me?” I ask before giggling in a voice that doesn’t sound like mine. “I wish! I get that all the time though.”
The four girls all eye me skeptically. “You really look like her,” one chimes in, her eyes narrowing as she takes in my appearance.
I wave off her comment and share a closed-mouth smile, doing everything I can to not make myself look or sound like…myself. “If I were, would I be vacationing in Wisconsin?” I ask, rolling my eyes playfully. “If I were Ryan Marcotte, I’d be in like Grand Caymans, Fiji, or Paris.”
The first girl seems defeated. “Yeah, you’re right. No way would the real Ryan Marcotte come here.” She eyes me up and down. “You dress just like her though. You must be a superfan.”
Instantly recognizing my mistake, I realize I need to make a wardrobe change and fast. “Oh, yeah, these are knockoffs. No way could I afford the clothes she wears on her reality show and podcasts.”
The fourth girl gives me a harsh once-over. “Yeah, those definitely aren’t designer,” she informs the group, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder. “I’m pretty sure her hair isn’t naturally blonde and she’s bigger than Ryan,” she adds, zeroing in on my waist.
I almost roll my eyes at her assessment and blurt, “Ryan’s hair isn’t naturally blonde either,” but that will only ensure I give away my real identity. Instead, I go with, “Well, have a good day.” I move around them, determined to get out of the diner and away from critical, knowing eyes.
The moment I toss my bags into the back and climb into my rental, I pull down the mirror. Of course people would recognize me. It was completely na?ve of me to assume they wouldn’t, just because I was in Small Town, Wisconsin and the first few people I encountered had no clue. I need to do better at disguising myself if I’m going to survive this entire month without anyone finding out who I am.
The first thing I need is to stop wearing designer clothes in public. Considering that’s all I brought with me, that’ll require some more shopping. Next, hats. And not the big straw ones I would be photographed in while on the yacht. I need ball caps or those smaller sunhats they were selling at the clothing boutique I visited earlier.
I sigh.
Looks like I’ll be making another shopping trip soon.
But most of the shops I went to this morning are closed on Sundays and this coming Monday for the Memorial Day holiday, so it’ll be Tuesday before I can do a wardrobe refresh to make me blend in more. Until then, I’ll have to make do with what I have, ensuring I don’t wear anything too flashy and stylish, like what I have on today.
And I’ll just have to stay in my cabin.
For a few moments, I was actually considering taking Ellie up on her invitation. I’m not exactly sure why, but, well, I liked her. She was kind and polite and had no idea who I was. At least, I don’t think she did. She could be a great actress, but I don’t think so. I never saw recognition flit through her eyes, and I’m usually pretty good at picking up on those kinds of things.
For everyone except for Vaughn…
But we’re not going there.
He’s in the rearview mirror, remember?
And I’m only looking forward from here on out.
To hell with Vaughn Cramer, user extraordinaire.
I don’t need him.
I don’t need any man.