When Bruce reached the ground floor, a middle-aged man in a black suit hurried over.
"Mr. Guo, hello. I'm Wells Paul from Hertz. Your car is ready."
Bruce nodded and pointed at the red convertible parked by the curb.
"That one?"
"Yes, sir. Per your request, we selected a Ferrari 550. It's the newest model Ferrari unveiled at this year's Paris Auto Show. This one is also a special limited edition created to mark the seventieth anniversary of Pininfarina. There are only 448 in the world. For the next two weeks, this car is yours."
Wells handed him the keys.
Bruce had wanted to see what driving a real sports car felt like, so he took them without hesitation.
Then he pointed to the black Mercedes sedan parked nearby, one of Thornbird Publishing's company cars.
"Take that and follow me."
"Yes, sir."
Wells took the Mercedes key and did exactly as instructed.
Back in his previous life, Bruce had watched plenty of Hollywood movies where the leads tore down open roads in exotic sports cars. For a long time, he'd envied that. Now that he finally had the chance to try it himself, it did feel good, at least at first. But once the novelty wore off, he actually found it less comfortable than the Mercedes he usually drove. Then again, that might have had something to do with the fact that he was stuck in New York traffic and couldn't really open it up.
The drive from Manhattan to JFK was not exactly short, but it wasn't terrible either. A little over an hour got him there. Once they arrived, Bruce tipped Wells and sent him off. Then he made his way to the arrivals exit and waited.
About thirty minutes later, he heard the plane had landed, and a flicker of anticipation passed through him.
"Do you think he'll actually come pick us up?" Al asked.
Molly sounded only half sure.
"I think so."
Al looked at her and grinned.
"As your loving little brother, I'm taking this responsibility seriously. I'm personally screening this guy. No way I'm letting some smooth-talking fraud scam my clueless sister."
Molly's face went cold at once.
"Al. Who exactly are you calling clueless?"
"Fine, I'm sorry."
He shrank immediately. One look at her face was enough.
Molly was just about to deal with him properly when a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"Molly, over here!"
Her whole body tightened for a second. Then she lowered the hand she'd been about to swing at her brother and turned toward the sound.
Standing beyond the yellow line was a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark blue jacket over a white T-shirt, with cropped brown pants, white sneakers, and a black cap. He was waving at them with an open smile on his face.
The second Molly saw him clearly, something inside her moved in a way she hadn't expected.
He looked familiar, of course. But not in the flat way a face looks familiar through a screen. In person, Bruce had a warmth and presence that none of his emails had quite captured.
Beside her, Al narrowed his eyes and sized him up.
"So that's Bruce Guo?"
He studied him for a moment, then nodded like a judge rendering a preliminary verdict.
"All right. He looks decent enough. Still not quite as handsome as me, obviously."
At the same time, Bruce was looking at Molly just as closely.
It had been more than three months.
She was wearing a blue-and-white striped top under a white vest that framed her slim waist and elegant figure perfectly. Her loose pale-blue cropped pants made her legs look even longer. On her feet were brown vintage-style mid-heel shoes. The whole look was casual, almost matching his own, but on her it became something else entirely.
Her dark hair was gathered behind her head, soft and full with just enough looseness to feel natural. Her face was as beautiful as he remembered, fine-boned, luminous, and impossible to forget. Her long pale neck, her hands, even the familiar ruby earrings she was wearing made something in him jump all at once.
So when she came close enough to speak, he didn't wait.
He opened his arms and pulled her straight into him.
"Molly, I missed you."
The warmth in his voice, right against her ear, sent a flush across her face.
"Let go. Al's right here."
There was enough embarrassment in her voice to make Bruce finally look past her.
Standing beside her was a lean young man almost as tall as he was, with a slightly rangy build and sharpness in his features to set him apart.
Bruce let Molly go, then offered his hand.
"You must be Al Bevan. I'm Bruce Guo, your sister's boyfriend."
He said the last three words with complete confidence, like the matter had long since been settled.
Al looked at him, then at Molly. She looked flustered and annoyed, but she had not denied it.
That was enough to make him reassess Bruce on the spot.
This was the first man Al had ever seen stand in front of Molly and call himself her boyfriend without getting torn to pieces for it.
He took Bruce's hand.
"Al Bevan. Nice to meet you. Also, you're the first guy in history who's called himself my sister's boyfriend to her face and survived."
"Al." Molly shot him a hard look. "Not another word."
He lifted both hands.
"Fine."
Bruce smiled, took Molly's suitcase from her, and nodded toward the exit.
"Come on. The car's outside. I booked the hotel already."
As they walked, Bruce pulled a large pair of sunglasses from his pocket and put them on.
He'd taken them off so Molly could spot him easily. Now he wanted them back on. Fame was getting inconvenient.
That move immediately caught the siblings' attention, though before either of them could ask, a heavyset middle-aged man in a plaid shirt rushed over with a look of startled excitement.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Bruce Guo?"
Bruce's face showed a trace of resignation. Still, he answered politely.
"Yes, I am."
The man lit up.
"That's fantastic. My name is Sylvester Newt. I'm a huge fan of your Pirates of the Caribbean books. Jack Sparrow is the most charismatic pirate in the world. The hand gestures alone are genius. Honestly, I still think Elizabeth Swann should've ended up with Jack instead of that blacksmith. That guy has no imagination at all, and..."
"Mr. Newt," Bruce cut in quickly. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, I really do. But I'm here to pick up friends, and I'm in a bit of a rush. I'd love to hear your thoughts on Pirates another time, but right now I really need to get moving."
The man immediately looked embarrassed.
"Sorry. I got a little carried away."
"No problem."
"Could I at least get an autograph?"
He fumbled a black notebook out of his briefcase.
"I use this for work. You can sign the inside cover."
Bruce took the notebook and pen, thought for a second, then wrote:
To Mr. Newt, wishing you success in work and good health.
Bruce Guo
September 12, 2000.
He handed it back.
"Will that do?"
The man's face lit up all over again.
"It's perfect. Thank you."
He carefully put the pen and notebook away, then asked one more question.
"One last thing, Mr. Guo. I know this is probably rude, but I have to ask. Is there going to be another Pirates of the Caribbean book?"
Bruce nodded.
"Yes."
The man clenched a fist in delight.
"That's the best news I've heard all day."
Then he glanced between Bruce and Molly.
"Also, your girlfriend is stunning. More beautiful than Julia Roberts and Angelina Jolie put together."
Bruce laughed.
"Thank you."
Mr. Newt nodded, said goodbye, and finally left.
Bruce watched him go, feeling oddly pleased. At least not all of his fans were women who had found him through Fifty Shades of Grey.
He turned back to Molly and Al.
"Shall we?"
As they headed toward the exit, Al looked at him with renewed interest.
"So you're a writer?"
Bruce glanced at Molly.
"You a writer?"
Bruce glanced at Molly.
"You never told him?"
"No."
She said it without apology.
Al threw up his hands.
"That is unbelievably unfair. Especially from you. You never told me his name, his job, his interests, nothing. I'm your brother."
"Why would I tell a loudmouth like you anything?"
She didn't even look at him when she said it.
Al looked genuinely wounded for about two seconds.
Bruce stepped in before he could start another round.
"I am a writer. I also run a few businesses."
Al perked up immediately.
"A famous writer?"
His mood changed so fast it would've been confusing if Molly didn't already look completely used to it.
Bruce smiled.
"Depends who you ask. I wrote Pirates of the Caribbean, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and The Hangover. Ring any bells?"
Al's eyes widened.
"Wait. The Hangover was yours? That explains why Molly kept reading it the whole trip."
Molly swung at him instantly.
He jumped back just as fast.
Clearly, he had a lot of practice avoiding his sister.
"Al Bevan," Molly snapped, "if you keep talking, don't expect me to buy you that car."
He ducked behind Bruce like a shameless child.
"If you don't buy me the car, I'll tell Dad you have a boyfriend."
She stopped dead.
"You wouldn't."
He grinned.
"Try me."
Bruce had to step in before the situation escalated.
"All right, enough. Molly, we're here."
He pointed to the black Mercedes waiting nearby.
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