Page 133 of Smoke and Fire
“I know. It would be such a fantastic opportunity to call out some prejudice, though.”
Priyanka had an advocate’s soul and had long wanted to call out and tackle the hypocrisy that could follow the announcement that a man wrote such gentle romantic novels. Then again, maybe this news wouldn’t hit in such a big way. The unknown is what held me back the most.
I’d definitely misrepresented myself when I used a female pen name. Any reader would be right to be upset and have broken trust. I didn’t want that either. But some of them could be aggravated enough to find out more about me. To really abuse the revelation to get some sort of revenge.
The paths of howa reader could find out my real identity were slim and few, thankfully. If a reader came to Pineville, caught me writing, and outed me on it, we’d have a problem. Without that very unlikely possibility, there were only two ways anyone could link me to Jess.
1. Pri.
2. The Merry Idiots.
Neither of those gave me true concern.
For all of our differing opinions on whether I should announce or not, Priyanka 100% respected my decision. So far, no one had outed us from her end. One day, there could be an intern that worked her slush pile, or someone in her office that might snoop and then spill, but it hadn’t happened yet.
The three other Merry Idiots knew nothing about Jess, as far as I was aware, so they weren’t a real concern now. One day, they could figure it out, or I might spill the secret. That day hadn’t come, so my identity was locked fairlytight.
I tilted my head back to stare at the ceiling.
“We’re back to where we started, Pri. This whole thing is about money and privacy. You know I don’t want my life out there.”
“Because you’re ashamed of writing romance?”
“No.”
She waited.But yes,I quietly tacked on. I sifted through all the things her statement brought up, but felt only a giant ball of ugly in my chest.
In truth, I didn’t know whyI wanted to stay so deeply anonymous. Nothing felt safer than privacy. Down the road ofcome cleanwaited a whole lotta not-privacy. That didn’t feel good. In fact, it felt downright terrifying.
Flashes of the Merry Idiots appeared in my mind like fireworks. Jayson, whom we called Hernandez, Grady, and Vikram. The guys figuring out my secret? Big whopping no-way-in-hell.
The thought of their laughter and ribbing after they found out would be unbearable and would follow me for the rest of my life. But I still couldn’t credit them with that much power in my life. No, Priyanka was right. Something else lingered below the surface.
Just . . . didn’t know what it was.
Technically, I could hide behind the computer for however long I wanted, but it would impact sales eventually. An impact in sales meant a bigger impact on Dad and Inessa. I wasn’t about to allow that.
“Let’s focus on deeper meanings later.” I rubbed the back of my neck with a heavy sigh. A bell announced the dryer was finished. “For now, what do you need from me for the launch ofWanderlust is a Battle?”
“What Ineedand what Iwantare two different things, so I’ll stick with what you requested. I need you to keep up on fan mail and not disappear. You don’t have to have your voice or your face attached to anything, but a few live messages wouldn’t kill you. Neither would an updated post or five on social media saying you’re excited about the launch or something. Readers can’t rally around an author that doesn’t care.”
“I care.”
“Do you?”
“Yes! I’m just . . . I’m at max capacity right now.”
“That’s fair. You have a lot going on.”
I stood up to pace. My fan mail inbox totalled in the thousands after my summer in the mountains. The email drama was the result of a low-level cliffhanger ending in the last book. This current launch would satisfy the clamor for more. Women all over the world had been messaging aboutWanderlust is a Battle, and Pri had started to get interest fromHollywood types,she called them.
Asking for more visibility really wasn’t unwise.
“Okay,” I said.
“Can that happen?”
She spoke crisply, and I didn’t doubt it was because she already knew the answer. No, I couldn’t be present to live message or respond to emails or hashtags. In less than twenty hours, I’d be back on another assignment for two weeks, and the launch was just over a week away. My only option had just backed away like the opportunity burned her.
