Chapter 51: Road Trip
Outside the Duncan House
"Be careful on the road."
"Call us when you get there."
"Bye, Adam!"
"I will. Bye, Charlie."
His parents stood in the driveway looking the way parents look when they're trying not to make a big thing out of something that is, in fact, a big thing. Teddy waved with genuine enthusiasm, Charlie on her hip waving along without fully understanding why. Gabe observed from the porch with characteristic minimum effort.
Adam settled into the passenger seat, waved back, and watched the Duncan house get smaller in the side mirror until Juno turned the corner and it was gone.
They made good time. Three drivers rotating meant almost no stops, and the route was already familiar to Adam from his New Jersey trip. The middle stretch of the country was what it always was — long, flat, enormous sky, the particular American emptiness that reminded you how much space existed between things.
Juno drove the first shift and talked about the manuscript.
"You should think carefully about the adaptation rights before you approach a publisher," she said, eyes on the road. "The book rights and the film and television rights are separate. Don't bundle them together. The adaptation potential is significant — the world-building, the mystery structure, the visual atmosphere. If you let a publisher take everything in one deal, you'll regret it."
"I know," Adam said. "That's already the plan."
"HBO would be the right home for it," Juno continued. "Not a broadcast network. The story is too layered for network standards. Cable, subscription model, the audience that actually commits to a complex narrative arc."
Adam nodded. HBO had been building its reputation for years on the premise that there was an audience willing to pay for something better than what was available for free — and that audience kept growing. The programming choices reflected it. Complex, dark, cinematic in ambition. If Lord of the Hidden had the life Adam imagined for it, that was the correct address.
"Season two," Juno said. "When?"
Adam said nothing.
Juno smiled.
Around hour six, it was Adam's turn. Karen moved to the back with Juno, who used her as a pillow without ceremony. Karen accepted this with the particular patience of someone who had fully committed to a friendship's specific terms.
The highway was empty in the way that American highways get empty — not just sparse traffic, but genuinely, expansively empty, the kind of empty that made sense of why so many stories set themselves out here. Anything could happen and there'd be no witnesses.
Adam kept his eyes moving between the road and the rearview mirror.
A car appeared behind them, gaining slowly. Old Ford, a suitcase strapped to the roof. Road trip vehicle. He watched it for a minute, reassessed, and relaxed slightly.
The Ford pulled up alongside them and matched their speed.
The driver was a short young man — compact, expressive, the kind of face that was already in the middle of making a point before he opened his mouth. The passenger was a curly-haired woman with the kind of dimples that were impossible to miss, currently wearing the expression of someone who had been having this particular conversation for several hours and was losing.
The driver rolled his window down. Adam did the same.
"Quick question," the driver called over. "Can men and women actually be just friends? Real friends, nothing else?"
"Depends on the situation," Adam said.
The curly-haired woman looked at Adam. "See? He said it depends. That's a real answer."
"That's not a real answer," the driver said, completely ignoring her. "That's a diplomatic non-answer." He leaned slightly toward his open window. "Be honest, man. When you first saw her—" he gestured at his passenger "—what was your actual first thought?"
"Harry," the curly-haired woman said, with the warning tone of someone who had used that name in that tone many times before.
"I'm asking a scientific question," Harry said. He looked back at Adam. "You don't have to lie. We're strangers, there are no consequences."
"There's something to what you're saying," Adam admitted. "But it's not absolute."
"Ha!" The curly-haired woman pointed at Adam. "He said it's not absolute."
"He also agreed with the underlying premise," Harry said, unbothered. He glanced in the back seat of Adam's car, where Juno and Lauren were visible, and something shifted in his expression — a flicker of recalibration. His smile became somewhat more respectful.
"Heading to New York?" he asked.
"Columbia," Adam said. "You?"
"New York University," the curly-haired woman said, leaning across Harry to answer. "I'm Sally. This is Harry."
"Adam."
"Are they your—" Harry started, nodding toward the back seat.
"Friends," Adam said firmly.
Harry looked at him. Looked at Juno and Lauren. Looked back at Adam.
"Sure," he said, in a tone that communicated his complete position on the matter without requiring any additional words.
The Ford accelerated and pulled ahead, disappearing into the distance.
Adam drove in silence for a moment.
In the back seat, Juno opened one eye.
"Friends," she said.
"Correct," Adam said.
She closed it again.
End of Chapter 51
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