“Maybe, but that’s just money. Devoting your time to a good cause is different. Come here, Walker”—Richard slips an arm around my shoulders—“let’s go get some sleep.”

Together? I don’t think he meant it like that. Pity. Anyway, it’s the first time he’s called me by my last name—I like it—or touched me beyond a handshake. I’m not sure if it’s a gesture of camaraderie or… something else. I let my shoulders enjoy the weight of Richard’s arm and try not to read too much into it.

At the hotel, we stand awkwardly in front of my door to say good night. I-had-two-glasses-of-wine me wants to haul Richard into my room and onto the bed by the collar of his shirt, but it would probably require I-had-two-bottles-of-wine me to do something like that. So I politely say good night and agree to meet him in the morning for a day of sightseeing. I slip under the covers, alone, feeling a disproportionate euphoria at the idea of touring LA with the boss.

Indira was right; I’m in so much trouble.

Eleven

Never Skinny Dip

Thanks to the three-hour jet lag, I’m up earlier than usual at four thirty. Even if it’s seven thirty in New York, I doubt Nikki will be up, unless Chevron—tuned to my hours—dragged her off the bed. Either way, better if I wait a couple more hours before I call. It’s silly how quickly I’ve turned into such an anxious pet parent, but I literally feel like I’ve left my child behind.

I change into running gear—leggings, tank top, iPod strap, fit watch—and wander down to the lobby.

“Hi,” I say, startling a half-asleep receptionist.

“Hello, ma’am.” He jerks himself awake and sits straighter in his chair. “How may I help you?”

“Is there a good running trail around here?”

The clerk blinks at me, still shocked someone would be this chirpy at such an ungodly hour. But he recovers fast. “Er, the best option would be to turn left as soon as you exit the hotel and run along the beach. If you head south, you’ll find yourself on the Strand, a paved bike path that will bring you to the Venice boardwalk. Or you could go north and loop Palisades Park.”

“Is the park open this early?”

“Yeah, it’s twenty-four hours.”

“Great, thanks.”

I press play on the iPod and jog outside where it’s still entirely dark. There’s only a hint of light glimmering behind the hills on my right, which means the temperature is still manageable. I doubt I’d be able to run with the Californian sun shining high in the sky.

I turn left, follow the road to the beach trail, and head north toward the park. If the Hudson waterfront is one my favorite trails in New York, it has nothing on the ocean. I’m only missing Chevron.

After the first loop, I check my watch. Eight minutes per mile. Way below my average. Lately, I’ve only had time to run on the weekends, and my lack of constant training is showing. I should start over, but I’m too lazy, so from the park, I cross over a bridge to the beach to go exploring. The shore is deserted, too dark even for surfers.