Mom
Yes, Gwen. Please let us know where you are.
Mom
Gwen, it only takes a second to send a note. Please be more considerate in the future.
Hi, all. I literally haven’t had cell reception since we left the airport in Lima. We spent the night in a tiny village in the Sacred Valley. Quite safe and beautiful. Amazing stargazing last night from a natural hot spring. We’re now in another small town—Ollantaytambo—but will be leaving here in a bit for destinations unknown. The entire trip will likely be in places with spotty/no cell service, but I am in good hands. Our tour guide is quite knowledgeable and so far, we’ve been traveling via helicopter, so all very lux. No need to worry. I’ll check in with you again soon. Love to you all!
Mom
I’m not worried. In the event of your safety being in jeopardy, we simply need to know if some sort of action is required from our end.
Ben
Sounds suspiciously like worrying, Mom.
Mom
It is nothing of the sort. Worrying is the world’s biggest time waster.
Carla
With all due respect, Stephanie, allowing yourselves to label your feelings is both healthy and productive.
Mom
How’s this? I’m feeling irritated.
Carla
Excellent work! You’ll get the hang of it.
“Where are you?” I ask, pressing the phone to my ear so I can hear Allie over all the background noise on her end.
“Vegas,” she shouts.
“You went?!”
“I’m here with ____ !” she yells, but I can’t hear the name.
“With who?!”
“VEGAS, BABY, WHOOHOOOO!!!!” a man hollers, pretty much directly into my ear canal.
“Can you get somewhere quiet so I can hear you?”
“Sure, one sec!”
I glance around the quiet street here in Ollantaytambo—a place about as far from Las Vegas as you can get, and not just geographically. I’m not even sure if they have any stop lights, let alone all the bright lights of The Strip. The rest of my group is seated around a long table inside the restaurant I’m in front of, waiting for the dessert course of our lunch. I came out here because there is no way I want anyone to overhear my conversation—especially not Ty, who, now that I look, is watching me through the window. Or maybe he just looked up at this very second and I only think he’s watching me because some sick, twisted part of me wants him to be.
I give him an innocent smile, then turn back toward the sun.
“Okay, how’s this?” Allie asks in a normal tone. The sound of a toilet flushing tells me where she went.
“Much better. Tell me everything.”
“Skip’s going to be easy to find. He puts out Instagram stories every couple of hours so Chad and I drove up this morning. We’re currently at the Hard Rock, which is the last place he posted.”