Page 3 of Lucky Shot
“Me too,” Doreen says.
I can’t seem to speak so I force my mouth into what I hope is a smile.
“We’ll talk soon.” Doreen leans forward and then ends the meeting.
Two seconds later, Molly calls me.
“Don’t panic,” she says by way of greeting.
“Don’t panic?” I ask, parroting her words but with so much anxiety I can feel it vibrating through me. I stand and pace back and forth in my small living room. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
“Honestly?” She pauses, then adds, “I was afraid you wouldn’t take the meeting.”
“Nobody turns down a meeting with Doreen Walters,” I whisper-hiss as I squeeze my eyes shut.
“She is a legend,” Molly says. “And she loves the book.”
Even Doreen must get it wrong occasionally.
As if she heard my internal dialogue, Molly uses her stern, lovable tone. “So do I. I believe in this book. I always have. I wouldn’t be pushing it if I didn’t. Maybe now is the time to finally get it out there while you figure out what’s next.”
Or it could flop like the last one. I swallow the words, but they burn all the same. I stop pacing and inhale a steadying breath.
“How would this even work?” I ask. “I wasn’t exaggerating. I really don’t know anything about hockey.”
“Let me worry about that.”
A tiny scoff leaves my throat. This is crazy. I can’t do it. I’m the least sporty person I know. My knowledge of hockey is nonexistent, unless you count fifth grade physical education class where we played scooter hockey. And the only thing I remember about that is how painful it is to have your fingers run over by a scooter wheel.
“I promise I will get you the support you need. Your character will be deking and chirping, putting up hat tricks, and shaking out his glorious lettuce,” Molly adds confidently.
“I have no idea what you even said.”
“Me either, but I loveShoresy. Have you seen the show? It’s hilarious.”
My throat constricts and a fresh wave of panic ripples through me. I shake my head but no words come out.
“You can do this!” Her enthusiasm is contagious and finally a small laugh escapes. If I don’t laugh, I may cry.
“Oh, she’s already sent over the offer,” Molly says, then gasps.
“Is that a good gasp or a bad gasp?” I ask. Maybe it’s so bad it doesn’t justify learning an entirely new sport. We can go back to pushing the vampire royalty book and I can figure out how I’m going to write it if and when someone wants it.
“I just forwarded it.”
I hustle back to my laptop and pull up the email from Molly. When the attachment loads, I let out my own gasp. I have never, and I meannever, seen an advance even close to this number. It would be the biggest deal of my career.
I straighten and blow out a breath. “What does lettuce have to do with hockey?”
2
RUBY
“Six weeks.” Molly’s voice, filled with unwavering finality and a dash of hopefulness, comes through my headphones. “That should be plenty of time for you to interview him, get through edits, and still be able to enjoy a little summer fun at the lake.”
“Here’s hoping,” I reply as I make my way through the small Montana airport.
“You don’t need hope. You’ve got this.”
