CHAPTER 7
VIOLET
I forgot where I was for a moment, but as light streamed in through the filmy drapes that covered the French windows in the pool house, the horrors came flooding back. Chocolate, locusts, and yes, vomit. Oh, heck. I’d never live that down.
What time was it? Ten minutes to five, according to my phone. I’d gotten a whole four hours of sleep, and now I needed to call Trent before I ventured outside to live the Hollywood dream. Or rather, the nightmare.
I hadn’t really noticed last night, but the place smelled musty, stale, as if nobody had ventured in there for weeks or even months. The kitchenette was covered in a layer of dust, and a dozen ants had breathed their last in the shower. I rinsed them down the plughole before stepping inside to wash away my bad decisions.
W
