Less defensive, Hallie. The stuff in the book didn’t happen. I chant the lie inside my head over and over again, and try not to react.
“If I can’t deal with it? Did you really just say that? What have I been telling you since this happened? You need to talk to someone! I told you that you can talk to me, but you didn’t do that. Instead you wrote a horribly filthy thing and never said a word. People are talking about it, Hallie, and do you know what they think? They’re saying it’s about us!” Neil’s voice is an entire squeaky octave higher when he’s done speaking. His hands are flying through the air like he’s a ninja leading an orchestra. “Us!”
“Who cares what people say? You’re the one who’s always saying that, so—” The phone rings and I so don’t want to have this conversation. Maybe I’m a coward, but I answer it, which makes him go insane. Neil stomps out of the room. I don’t follow him as he bangs around in the kitchen, slamming drawers. “Hello?” I say calmly, like I’m not in the middle of the argument from hell.
“Hello, Miss Raymond, I presume?”
“Yes, this is she. How can I help you?” Neil glares at me through the doorway. I wish he’d at least act like he understands. Pretend sympathy is better than none.
“This is Cecily Varden from Varden Agency in New York. Are you the author of LOVE I HAVE LOST?”
“Yes.” I tuck my hands into the crooks of my arms and lean back against the counter. “Listen, now really isn’t a good time—”
“I apologize, but I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days. I have several offers for your book.”
“I’m not interested.” I’m about to hang up, but her voice takes on a frantic high-pitched hurried sound that stops me.
“Wait, they’re offering seven figures, plus another contract for a movie. Miss Raymond, I understand that you’ve been through a lot recently, and I don’t want to trouble you, but you need to realize that there are people offering you a great deal of money for the story you’ve written. It’s touched people in a way that isn’t seen every day.” I don’t blink. I stand there with my brows slightly raised and stare at the wall. “Miss Raymond?”
I nod slowly. “I can’t discuss this right now, but I give you permission to speak with Neil Scortz about it.” I shove the phone at Neil before turning away and rushing out the front door.
My body doesn’t respond the way it should. My stomach churns like I drank spoiled milk and I hurl in Neil’s roses. My entire body aches and for a second I can feel again. Pressing my lips together, I sit down hard on the front stoop and clutch my face in my hands. This can’t be happening. The answer to all my prayers is dangling in front of me, but I can’t take it. If I do, it’ll expose Bryan and I’ll lose Neil. But, if I don’t take the money then there’s no way to finish school. Dad gave up so much for me. Oh God. I could get the house back. I could walk into the bank and just buy the thing. I wouldn’t even need a mortgage. It feels like my body is being torn in half, so I double over to ease the pain. Sweat beads on my forehead and I start crying into my knees.
I can’t lose anyone else. Not now. I just can’t.
I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting like that when a hand touches my shoulder. Before I can look up, my reflexes kick in. My spine goes straight as my elbow flies back and connects with his stomach. Neil curses and staggers back, gasping, “Damn it, Hallie!”
I jump up and grab his shoulder, trying to turn him toward me. “I’m sorry. You startled me. Neil, I didn’t mean to.”
Neil is clutching his stomach and looks up at me. I’ve done this to him more than once. He has really slow reflexes. You’d think he’d jump out of the way by now, or walk around so I can see him before touching my shoulders. Call it a New York survival instinct, but I don’t like it when people walk up behind me.
He tries to smile at me. “I’m fine.” Taking my hand, he sits on the porch and pulls me down next to him. “Do you want to know what she said?”
I stare straight ahead and lean into his shoulder. “I don’t really care. I can’t say yes, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t be silly. Of course you can say yes.” Neil looks at me funnily. “Why would you say that?”
Who are you and what have you done with Neil? My mouth hangs open for a moment, before I blurt out, “You were just yelling at me for writing that story, so how could it possibly be okay to publish it? Or make a movie?” Oh God, my head hurts. I kind of wish it would just explode and be done with it. I sigh deeply and try not to cry.
“Hallie, do you know how many copies you’ve had downloaded?” I shake my head. I saw some numbers on the screen earlier, but I didn’t stop to see what they were or what they meant. He smiles at me like I need to have someone hold my hand and walk me through it. “You’ve gotten big enough to attract major attention. The press has been buzzing about you, which made everyone else look. Listen, you already wrote the book and everyone already knows. You should take the deal.”
“But what about us?”
He shrugs and looks out at the street. “It’s fiction, right?” Oh God. There’s a lake of fire in Hell with my name on it. I nod and try not to look guilty. “So, then it’s just another piece of sensationalized trash, but this time it benefits us.” He actually smiles and bumps my shoulder.
It’s not trash, not to me. Looking at my hands, I ask, “Did you read it?”
“Do I need to?”
I shake my head. “Just wondering.”
He runs his hands through his short hair and sighs, and his rigid spine finally relaxes. “Listen, Hallie. The damage is already done. I’ll have to face the guys at work no matter what you do, so you might as well take the money. I’ll admit that it softens the blow.” He offers a weak smile and rests his hand on my back. “What I don’t know how to explain is why you’d write something so animalistic in the first place. It’s not like you actually want to do those things, right?” He laughs nervously and I know I can’t tell him everything, but I can’t help but nudge him that way.
I look over at him and keep my hands clasped together in my lap. “Would it be so bad?” His eyes widen as a look of shock crosses his face. “Not all of it, but being a little more, I don’t know, passionate? Would that be so bad?”
“That’s not passion, sweetie. It’s morally devoid to go at it like beasts. You’re a smart woman, does it really appeal to you to act like a mindless animal?” Neil has a concerned look on his face as he waits for my reply.
There’s nothing I can say that doesn’t sound wrong. “No, it doesn’t.” My stomach sinks and my body feels numb again. Intellectually, Neil is up there, but he has the emotional barometer of a cactus. “So, what’d you tell Varden?”
He smiles at me. “I told her to draw up the papers.”
CHAPTER 7
Maggie’s jaw bangs against the table top. “Did you know they would offer you that much money?”
I shake my head, staring at the computer screen with the offers proposed. Several of them want to buy the rights to my book. “No. That’s a buttload of money.” If pigs could fly, one would be soaring above my head in circles, oinking up a storm, and that would seem more realistic than what’s happening in front of my face.
The millions of people raving about my book earned me some serious pocket change. What were the odds of that? I think I was more likely to get struck by lightning. Maybe I should be more careful when I go outside. I glance through the window and look up at the sky. No more umbrellas for this girl.
Maggie is drooling over the keyboard, asking me questions. “What are you going to buy? I mean, you could get a new wardrobe, a swank apartment, and pay for your classes next semester.” She blinks again, like she expects the number to disappear. “When do you get paid?”
“I’m not sure.” My lips twitch. I’m glad and nervous. The money from this will help me get my feet on the ground again, but there’s the lingering threat of Bryan. What if he sees the story? He watches TV, right? I can’t imagine him being happy
about it, God knows that I’d be pissed. It’s totally wrong to write about an ex and publish it for everyone to see. It’s just creepy, and the thought of Bryan finding out is making me queasy.
I glance at Maggie, worried. “Don’t you think he’s going to notice?”
She shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not. Depends on the guy, and you still haven’t told me his name. I haven’t forgotten. I’d like to know who turned you into a little sex fiend.” She laughs, but doesn’t glance at me.
Awkward. Maggie is my best friend and all, but I don’t talk details with her or anyone. And now everyone knows what I like and how I like it. Holy frackdogs, it’s embarrassing. I make a face. “Why would you want to know that?”
“So I could hook up with one of his brothers. Maggie likes things freaky.” She grins at me and looks at the screen again, “Click back to the book on Padpress.” Tapping the monitor, she curls her lip, saying, “This is a really ugly cover by the way.”
I can’t argue that. It’s basically a piece of loose leaf with a typewriter font plastered across the blue lines. “It required zero computer skills, okay. Besides, no one was supposed to read it.”
“Then, what’d you put it out there for?”
Good question and the truth is more of a gut feeling than a cognitive thought. Sometimes I write for me and that’s enough. This time it wasn’t. This time I wrote about love and loss, pain and death, but just having it on my computer wasn’t enough. It felt like holding a caged bird in the palm of my hand. There was something freeing about pressing publish. It was cathartic, no matter what Neil says.
Getting up from the computer, I pull my hair into a ponytail and walk across the living room. “I don’t know how to say it.”
“Try me.” She turns around, but doesn’t stand up.
Avoiding her gaze, I grab a coffee mug and try to put the feelings to words. “It’s everything bad that happened, and it was trapped inside me with little bright spots of good. For some reason they kept crashing into each other. I didn’t ask why or read anything into it. Pressing publish was like writing a letter and dropping it off the Empire State Building. In theory someone might read it, but odds are it’ll be trash underfoot that no one will ever see. I don’t know. Maybe I’m mental.”
Maggie shakes her head. “Nah, you’re not mental, and ignore Neil if he doesn’t get it. Just because he’s a wannabe shrink doesn’t mean he has the magical power to see inside your heart. Plus, the heart and the head aren’t always going the same direction, if you know what I mean. Grief does things to a person.” Maggie sucks in a shaky breath and forces a smile.
Her life has sucked and somehow she sits here and manages to smile, but my face feels like it’s going to crack when the corners of my mouth lift. I don’t know how she does it. No one except me cares about her, she has no family, and was bounced around from one foster home to another until she was old enough to leave. She’s broke, but she tries so hard. Right now she works at some bar and the tips are good, but I worry about her.
We were in the same foster home until my Dad adopted me when I was in third grade. Maggie got left behind, but I still saw her in school. Unlike the rest of the kids in that house, she managed to stay put. As for me, my mother liked heroine more than food. Child Protective Services found me when I was five years old, hiding in the bottom of a closet while she was doing god-knows-what.
That period of my life is covered in shadows like a nightmare. I can’t remember which things really happened and which were nightmares. While the events don’t stand out much, the emotional distress from that time is still vivid. Gut-wrenching fear owned my little body back then. My young eyes had seen things that no child should ever see. After that, I spent a few years in foster homes until Dad adopted me. I was one of the lucky kids. Maggie wasn’t so lucky.
I’m still nervous and stir the spoon around in my cup. What will people think of me when they read this? I know I shouldn’t care, but I do, a little. Glancing up at her, I ask timidly, “You don’t think I’m mental for publishing something that I didn’t want people to see?”
“Nah.” She waves me off and leans back in her chair. “You’re more likely to fall down a sinkhole.”
I laugh. “A sinkhole?”
“Yeah. I watch the news. Sinkholes are the new threat. Well, sink holes and bears, but let’s face it—there are no bears running up and down Sunrise Highway, so I think we’re safe.” She grins at me. “But when you become a big shot and live in a palace in California, watch out, because they have both.” She makes a roaring sound and swats at me.
“You’re a dork.” The smile doesn’t feel forced this time. She actually has me laughing again.
“So, what are you going to buy?”
“Nothing yet. I don’t have this money and for all I know I might not get a cent. Right now I’m still butt poor.”
She holds up a fist for me, and I bump mine against hers. “Welcome to the club. We work twice as hard and get nowhere too fast.”
I nod in agreement, but I can’t shake the feeling that Bryan isn’t going to like this when he finds out, because he’s going to see it. It’s just a matter of when.
The phone rings. It’s Cecily again. She’s been trying to get me invited to some shindig in the city this weekend. I swipe the thing to life and press it to my ear. “Hello?”
Cecily squeaks, “Get your party dress out! We’re in. Everyone you need to cinch the deal will be there. Plus, I have you hooked up to present an award before the party that night. You need an evening gown and tell Neil to wear a tux.”
My stomach drops into my sneakers. “Present an award? Where?”
She’s excited, but I get the feeling that she’s done this a million times, and the excitement has more to do with landing a deal than with the party. “Oh, it’s no big deal honey, but it’ll get you extra press. You just read the lines off a little prompter screen and step out of the way. Easy peasy.” Cecily makes it sound minor, but it’s not.
“This a televised event?”
“Of course!”
“I can’t do that. Cecily—”
“Neil said you might do this. Listen, Hallie, it’s time to put on your big girl panties. This one little thing will get you instant exposure. As it is, everyone thinks you’re the sweetest thing they’ve ever seen. You have mass appeal kid, and we need to get you in front of those cameras. The more people that know about you, the better.”
“Cecily, I can’t. I suck at public speaking.”
“It’s reading, kid. You can read.” Before I can tell her no again, she adds, “I’ll have a car pick you up at six. Wear a dark evening gown, nothing too showy. We want to play up your good girl vibe to contrast with the wicked version of you in the book. That’ll sell them and they’ll be eating out of our palms. You already have a couple of offers, but we want a full blown bidding war. This is the shot that changes everything.” Cecily is all about the money. She doesn’t get paid unless I get paid, and while a truck load of money sounds great, I’d rather die than step out on stage.
Before I can say no, she hangs up. I make an aggravated sound in the back of my throat and stare at my phone. I don’t think I like her very much, at the same time, a shove might be what I need to get my butt in gear. “That was my agent. She wants me to announce the winner at a televised awards show tonight and then go to the banquet after.”
Maggie can tell that I don’t want to go. I hate crowds, I hate everything about it. “What are you going to do? I know this isn’t your thing, Hallie, but are you really going to pass this up?”
“I don’t even have a dress. How am I supposed to do this? How am I supposed to pay for this?”
Before I can look up, Maggie is in her purse. She fishes out a wad of cash. “How much do we need?”
“Where’d you get that?” I gape, and then narrow my gaze in on her hand.
“It’s mine, and what’s mine is yours.”
“I can’t take your money.”
“Uh, but y
ou can borrow it. Borrowing is totally allowed. We can hit the sales rack and I can do your hair and make-up. You’ll look awesome.” She beams at me and stomps her foot. “Come on Hallie. Let me do this for you. You always help me. It’s my turn to repay the favor. Come on.” She says the last two words over and over again until I cave in and say yes.
CHAPTER 8
Heart pounding hard, I smooth my hair and fuss with the skirt on my gown. It’s modest, to the ankle, with a little flare at the hem. My bodice isn’t revealing. Nothing about me screams vixen, except the book I’ve written. The press has had a fun time taking pictures of me from my Facebook page and sticking them next to my book. One title read: Good girl writes heartfelt story about naughty nights. Yeah, they left out the part about death, but that doesn’t sell as well.
The way my stomach churns is making me queasy. A few moments ago, I thought I could do this. I thought that I could walk out onto the stage with my shy little smile and read the prompter. But now, I’m worried that my voice will warble and that I’ll trip and fall flat on my face. All the women here look so calm and graceful, but I’m close to hyperventilating. I don’t belong here.
Neil notices the way I’m twisting the little ring on my finger and staring blankly at the crowd from the side of the stage. I wait in darkness for them to call my name. Neil reaches for my hand and smiles kindly at me. “How are you still nervous? We’ve been over this. It’s all in your head.”
Flicking my gaze up fast makes me feel like I’m going to hurl. As sweet as Neil is, he doesn’t get it. Every announcement, every word of every presentation that’s about me makes my heart race for one reason and one reason alone. I’m a liar. It’s not about the public speaking part. Okay, it’s about that a little bit, but I’m a bad liar. What if something comes up and they find out it’s Bryan? What if someone knows?