Chapter One
BRAVETOWN
History meets imagination when you take the railroad roller coaster into unknown territories, swing through the saloon doors to dine with the cowboys of the Old West, and join the sheriff in his fight against a notorious bandit.
Are you brave enough for the biggest adventure of your life?
ESRA
I must have hit my head when I face-planted in the parking lot, because when I sat up, the sun was covered by a cowboy. Hat, horse and all.
“Are you all right there, ma’am?” he asked with a perfect twang to his words.
I felt around my head for a bump but couldn’t find anything. I blinked and blinked but the cowboy and his horse remained. Not a hallucination triggered by too much sugar and country radio. Very much a guy in white boots atop a white steed.
I probably would have been less shocked to see a “cowboy” in pink crotchless chaps on an inflatable horse riding the F train through Manhattan. I knew how tohandlecity-weird. This guy… he was weird because he was too picture-perfect. He was country. He was ready to be photographed and slapped on aGreetings from Tennesseepostcard.
“Ma’am?” he asked again after I’d been staring much longer than appropriate.
“Yeah, no, all good. Carry on. Orrideon? Yee haw?” I wasn’t making sense. We both knew that, but judging by his tight-lipped polite smile, he thought I was drunk. I was actually just grappling with the reality of this place and a serious case of road-trip legs. In my defense, when he’d seen me stumbling out of my car and kissing the dirt, that was mostly thanks to those damn bumpy roads jostling me around until my joints were simultaneously numb and jittery. Sea legs, country version. We were in the middle of fucking nowhere, halfway between Nashville and Memphis, and I’d stopped feeling my toes an hour ago.
“Can I help you find your way?” With his white hat, sleek dark hair and round nose, he kind of looked like that old cartoon my brother had been obsessed with as a kid. Lucky Luke. He just needed a piece of straw hanging from the corner of his mouth.
“I’m good, Lucky. I’m going in there.” I pointed at the old farmhouse at the end of the parking lot and pushed to my feet. Once I’d dusted off my knees, I grabbed my fluffy candy-heart backpack that read “bite me”, and the enormous red slushy I’d picked up at a rest stop.
“It’s Lucas, actually.”
I snorted and quickly hid my laugh behind the plastic cup. LuckyLuke, indeed. “Do you work here?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Amazing. Me too. Well, not yet, but in a few minutes. Still gotta sign some papers. Thatisthe main office, right?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said again, but this time his polite smile wavered, and his eyes narrowed on my crop top. I glanced down to double-check. Big sparkling letters across my chest read “Retired Porn Star”. That’s what I got for dressing in a dark rest-stop bathroom.
“You think I should change, Lucky?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Instead of taking the cue to stop staring at me, his gaze dropped to my bare legs. Lucas was so far from my type. For one, he was too young, probably my age– around twenty-three. Young guys always wanted to talk about dreams and ambitions. Ugh. On top of that, his initial concern had seemed genuine. And I didn’t do genuine. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer, Lucky.”
“I’m so sorry, you have something on your, uh…”
I looked down to find a Dorito stuck to the inside of my thigh. It left a perfect triangular indent when I picked it off, laughing. “Thanks. Here, don’t eat it all at once.” I held the chip out to him, and he actually bent down and took it from me. Such a nice boy.
I also didn’t do nice.
“See you around, Lucky.”
“Uh, yes, I’ve got to get going now, but you have yourself a nice day.” He clicked his tongue and that mountain of a horse trotted away.
“Fingers crossed,” I mumbled before climbing back into my car and rummaging through the explosion of clothes on my backseat. The clean-smelling choice came down to a blue shirt with white rhinestones spelling out the word “feral” or a pink one that read “u can’t pickur father but u can pick ur daddy”. I chose the blue one and hoped that the HR department here wouldn’t take things literally.
After turning the legroom between the driver’s seat and the backseat into my personal changing room, I typed out a quick message.
Esra:I’m here
Sinan didn’t reply. Hell, he didn’t even read the message. It stayed stuck on “delivered” the whole way from my car to the farmhouse. Of course he didn’t reply within seconds. He wasn’t Mom, ready to swoop in and handle every situation for me– even something as minor as introducing myself to my new employer. Nope. My brother had told me when to be here, where to go, who to talk to… I’d wanted my independence, and I was getting it. I just low-key wished he would drag me through the door. Instead, I had to will my own two feet into action.
I grimaced at the rough wooden stairs and tested one with the tip of my sneakers. It groaned, but despite its weathered state, it seemed to hold.
