Sierra Lancaster has had an agonizingly mediocre life. She grew up in a happy home, made loyal friends, graduated college, and is now pursuing her dream of running her own bakery. Boring, right? A story like this wouldn't be one for the books. At le...
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Which motherfucker is drilling a jackhammer into my skull?
"Stop it," I groan at no one in particular and then wince because my voice is so damn loud, it rattles my brain. A burst of pain shoots at my temples and I jolt so suddenly that I accidentally roll off my bed. The side of my body hits the floor and I groan again, then whimper because now everything hurts.
I think I'm going to just lay here and await death.
It sounds like a solid plan. Loving the sound of it. Don't have to move now or ever. And if I'm dead then I can't feel this headache anymore. So really, it's a complete win.
But then my phone rings and the sound is so large and jarring that I shriek. I press a hand to my chest and suck in a large gulp of air, eyes falling shut. Just...relax. It's just one of those mornings where everything is happening before you're even awake and can make sense of what's going on so you want to crawl back under the covers and pretend like the day isn't starting against your own will.
Great. Perfect. Lick me like an ice cream cone awesome.
I reach above my head, my hand tapping the surface of my side table before it touches my phone, and then I bring it to my ear. "Hello?"
"Hi. May I speak to Sierra Lancaster please?"
"Speaking," I murmur then grab the edge of my bed to hoist myself up in a sitting position. I slap my face to snap myself out of it because the woman on the other line sounds serious. Professional. Focus, Sierra! "Uh, who is this?"
"I'm calling from head of the team at Bright Lights Amusements."
"That carnival is Fairfield?" I ask in confusion. Why the heck is a carnival calling me? Exactly what did I do last night? I haven't even attempted to remember yet and based on how this morning is going so far, I don't think I want to.
"That's right! I realize this is last minute but I was wondering if you'd be interested in holding a booth for your bakery at our event."
Huh? For the life of me I don't understand what's happening. Did I make some kind of call last night? Send out an email? But neither of those things make sense because why would an event as big as Bright Lights Amusements consider little ole' me to begin with? I lick my dry lips, trying to figure out how to stealthily get more information out of her.
"That sounds really exciting. I...um...admittedly, I'm wondering what's made you consider me. Is it okay that I'm asking?"
"Of course. Sierra's Sweets was recommended to us in light of your contribution to the SF Player Management fundraiser gala. I believe the referral was sent by Mr. Holden Rey? It looks like your booth will be right across SFPM's as well."
The gala. That's right.
Holden.
Oh, God. It comes back to me in flashes and the sudden rush of memory hits me so hard that I shake away the mental images. I'm not doing this right now. This phone call, shower, food, and then trying to recall the many possible ways I made an idiot out of myself last night.
