Page 149 of Story of My Life
“What? Why?” I demanded.
“Just think about it. I told your editor that you were working on something outside the Spring Gate series world, and she kind of may have freaked.”
I covered my face with my hands and moaned. “Zoey, why would you do that?”
“Because she was asking questions because…” The rest of her sentence was unintelligible, seeing as how she clamped her hand over her mouth before she said it.
“Say more words.”
“Because your editor ran into Jim at a cocktail party this weekend and he brought it up.”
“Why would he be talking tomyeditor aboutmybook?”
She lifted her shoulders. “Because he’s a thieving bastard and was pumping her for thievy information?”
“So you told her I’m working on something new? Editors hate that, Zo. You know that. I have a contract to give them another Spring Gate book, not something new and untested.”
She winced. “I may have reacted defensively. But the good news is, once she sees a couple of chapters, she’s going to realize that you’re writing the best book of your career, and Jim’s head will explode.”
I dropped my unexploded head to my desk and thumped it.
Zoey patted my hair. “Just think about it.”
“I hate everything,” I muttered. All the good feelings from the day evaporated into a stinky, depressing mist.
“It’s a good thing I saved the good news for last.”
I picked my head off the desk. “This better be legitimately good news and not some bullshit-silver-lining-on-a-steaming-pile-of-turds news.”
She fanned herself. “I can only hope you’re committing these metaphors to the page.”
“Don’t make me have a burly construction worker throw you out of my house.”
Zoey triumphantly threw a lemon-yellow folder with a smiley face on the cover at me.
I opened it with suspicion. “This better not be a pity happy folder.”
“This is a legitimate happy folder, my friend. Starting off with the fact that your social media reach has tripled since you moved here. Granted, you were starting at basically invisible, but this is some serious growth in the right direction.”
“Okay. That’s not terrible.” I flipped to the next page.
“This is your newsletter opens. They’ve gone up too. Way up. But what I found really interesting is the fact that you’re getting replies. Dozens of them. Readers are connecting with this whole fresh-start, impulse-buying-a-house, small-town-life thing.”
“Huh. Well, Cam did say I’m living a fantasy,” I said.
“Oh, did he? When did the subject of fantasies come up? When you were picking out toilets?”
“Uhhhhh, what? No! It was just a comment. In passing. We were talking about closet space during the workday, and I was explaining what a fantasy storage is to people in Manhattan. Purely professional.”
I wasn’t used to keeping secrets from my best friend. My “nothing to see here” patter needed a bit of work.
She looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re hiding something?”
“Maybe because you busted in here in the middle of a sex scene to tell me my editor isn’t happy, my ex-husband is sniffing around, and there’s a chance the publisher won’t accept this manuscript even if I manage to finish it.”
The best defense was always a good offense.
Zoey took a cleansing breath and let it out. “I’m sorry for reacting with a deep and abiding hate toward your shitbag ex-husband. But, Haze, sooner or later you’re going to have to show the publisher something. It’s smarter to do it now so we can make adjustments.”
