Page 57 of To Hate Adam Connor

“Then stop drinking.”

“Then what will I do? I think we’re out of beer. Did you write down the next scene? Let me see it.”

“Not yet. Let me read it again and see if it’s any good. If you want beer, why don’t you ask our neighbor?” she added casually. “Maybe he’ll give it to you.”

“Oh, the things your neighbor could give me,” I mumbled to myself, my eyes still following the wine.

Olive sat up straighter but kept her face hidden behind the screen. “What?” As if she could trick me by acting all mellow.

“Catherine called again,” I mentioned casually, ignoring her question.

When I didn’t continue on about Adam, she slumped back in her seat. “What did she want this time?” she mumbled.

“I didn’t answer.” I shrugged, sniffing my glass and then taking another sip. “She was probably calling to ask why I skipped the job interview she so graciously set up for me.”

“You should’ve answered and told her you were my agent now.” She got up, put the laptop on the coffee table, and headed for the kitchen. “I’m getting water, you want?”

“No to water, and I’m your temporary agent,” I corrected her. “I’m still looking for a job, but I’m not gonna take anything else from her.” I reached out for the laptop. “And I’m reading the scene.”

“No,” she shouted, slamming the fridge door closed. “I’m not done yet!”

I drew my hand back and looked at her over my shoulder. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve read anything you wrote? I’m having withdrawals here. Have a heart.”

She came back with a water bottle in her hand. “The new one is almost ready. As soon as Jasmine is done reading it, I’ll send it to you.”

Slowly, I uncurled my legs from under me and leaned forward to put my wine glass on the coaster. Clearing my throat, I asked, “Excuse me? Can you repeat that to me again? Jasmine? Who the hell is Jasmine and why the hell is she reading it before me?”

After drinking half of her bottled water, she gave me a smug look. “She is my beta reader—or maybe I should call her my alpha.”

I slid forward in my seat and gave all my attention to her. “She is your what?”

“You know, beta reader, the lovely person who reads the book after it’s done and points out things you should fix, or leaves encouraging notes. I do love my encouraging notes.”

Was she fucking with me?

“Is this a joke?” She gave me a questioning look. “I know what a beta reader is, Olive. I was your one and only beta reader, remember those days? How could you betray me like this?”

“I guess you do know what it is,” she said as if it meant nothing to her.

It was the worst betrayal in my book. How could she let someone else read it before me?

“I’m speechless. I’ve been waiting to read it for two months. How dare you?”

“Do you also know what a best friend is? Sister from another mister?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “I could ask you the same question right now, my little green Olive.”

“It doesn’t feel all that great, does it?” she asked, giving me a side-glance. “I assume it wouldn’t, because it sucks when you don’t tell me stuff.”

I huffed and leaned back against the couch. So that was what this was about. How had the sneaky little Olive managed to turn the subject back to me again? She picked up the laptop and continued with her little speech.

“First, I hear about the breakup a week later when I can do nothing about it.”

“And what exactly were you planning to do if you knew about it earlier? Cry your eyes out?” I asked, but she ignored me.

“And then some stupid entitled jerk son of a bitch attacks you—”

“He didn’t attack me, Olive. Let’s not blow it out of proportion.”

---