Page 215 of Story of My Life
“Zoey,” I mimicked.
“You’re going to make me do it.”
I sighed. “Do what?”
“The very bad thing that makes us both feel very bad.”
“Do you honestly think you could make me feel worse right now? I get dumped by the guy I tried not to lo—ike. I get dropped by my publisher, and after my dwindling sales and recent history of being completely incapable of finishing a book, I move to a new town for a fresh start and end up knee-deep in what will soon be literal shit. Oh, and the first time I see my ex-husband since the divorce, I’m a dehydrated, emotional raisin of a human being.” I threw my arms in the air. “So go ahead and do your worst, Zoey.”
“I am here because of you,” she said, pacing in front of me like a furious school principal. “I lost a job I loved because I stayed loyal to you. I followed you torural Pennsylvaniabecause I believed in you. Now you hit one dark night of the soul and instead of seeking vengeance against everyone who’s wronged you, you’re ready to throw yourself another pity party. Now does that sound like a heroine whose story you’d be interested in? Or does it sound like the kind of heroine readers would DNF?”
I involuntarily walked through both scenarios fictionally, imagining my heroine devastated and desolate, sharing candy bars in bed with a raccoon for the rest of her life. Then I pictured her pulling on her big girl pants and bravely carrying on with her life, even if she was only faking it with no hope of making it. A wishy-washy heroine with no backbone was a target for one-star reviews.
“Well?” Zoey prompted.
“I’m taking my time and considering my options,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Well, I don’t have that luxury, Hazel! I need clients. I need books to sell. I’m living in a hotel. I haven’t had sex in three months. My entire future hinges on whether you can pull your head out of your ass. And you act like you can’t even be bothered to care!”
I blew a raspberry and hugged my knees to my chest.
“Did it work?” she asked, panting from her rant.
“Well, I definitely feel worse.”
She slid down the wall next to me. “If you finish the book, Iwillsell it. We’re in this together.”
I nodded, staring at the decades of scars on the floor. They were still beautiful, even though they weren’t new or pristine. It was possible that the character made them more interesting than a glossy, perfect finish.
“I really liked him, Zo. Likelikedhim liked him.”
She tipped her head onto my shoulder. “I know. I did too. I mean, not like loved him like him like you did. But I’m fully planning on buying a shovel just so I can hit him in the face with it next time I see him.”
A throat cleared, and we jolted. We looked up to see Gage and Levi standing in the doorway, armed with a claw hammer and a gigantic wrench.
“We heard yelling,” Gage said. “Thought maybe Bertha made it down here after we chased her off your bed.”
“Damn it, Bertha,” I muttered.
“No raccoons here,” Zoey said, shooting me the side-eye. “We were just?—”
“Acting out some dialogue I wrote,” I announced. “It’s a fight scene.”
Gage lowered his hammer. “Oh. Uh. Good. We’ll just, uh…go back upstairs.”
“Great,” Zoey said with feigned enthusiasm.
Levi paused in the doorway and looked at Zoey. “Just so you know, I wouldn’t arrest you for it.”
She smiled at him. “Thanks, Levi.”
He nodded then disappeared.
“Well, at least one Bishop has a brain behind his handsome face.” She brightened. “Hey, you know what would really get Cam’s goat? Dating one of his brothers.”
“No more dating. I’m going to get a cat.”
“What will your raccoon say about that?”
