Page 8 of Story of My Life
“If you clean your glasses any harder, you’re going to rub right through the lenses,” Zoey said.
“Go ahead and say it. I know it’s burning a hole in your tongue.”
“First of all, that’s gross and reminds me of the time I burned my taste buds on pizza cheese at that sleepover.”
“I told you to let it cool off first,” I reminded her.
“Secondly, I’m not going to kick a client when she’s down by saying, ‘I told you so.’”
I dropped my glasses on the table. “It hasn’t been that long. How could I go fromNew York Timesbestseller to this in a year? Cece McCombie releases one book every eighteen months and readers still show up for her.”
Zoey leaned into my personal space. I pushed her back with a firm hand to the forehead. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to see if you want the truth or placation.”
I groaned. “Ugh. Fine. Let me have it.”
“First of all, it hasn’t been a year. It’s beentwosince you published a book.”
I scoffed. “That can’t be right.”
“You signed the papers a year ago. But you were fighting it out in court for a year before that.”
I blinked. Had I really just “misplaced” two entire years of my life?
“Cece McCombie has an actual online presence. She sends a newsletter every month. She talks to her readers every day on social media. She isn’t snobby about the events she does between releases.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.
“That hip little indie bookstore in Wisconsin loved your series so much they did a book club weekend for it, and yourefused to say yes to a Zoom call with them even though they gave you eight months’ notice.”
“I did no such thing!” I said indignantly. Bookstores and libraries had been my safe space growing up. I loved returning that support. At least Ihad.
“Jim told me you said absolutely not and that you wouldn’t entertain participating in any event with less than…” Zoey trailed off as the truth hit us both.
“Jim told you,” I repeated, congratulating myself on not choking on his name.
“Shit. I’m sorry, Haze. I should have known?—”
“No. It’s fine.Ishould have known,” I countered, trying to shove all those messy emotions back in the box. I knew how to handle singular emotions. But when they tangled together in a mega-knot like strings of Christmas lights, I didn’t know what to do.
I could point the finger in several directions when it came to the career blame game, but deep down, I knew ultimately it was my fault.
“She also has a movie deal,” Zoey said finally.
“Who?”
“McCombie.”
“What?”
Several pairs of eyes landed on us.
“A great signing!” I shouted with fake jubilation as if I’d always intended it to be a complete sentence. Zoey and I smiled maniacally until everyone returned to their business.
“A movie deal? Like green-lighted and cast or just optioned?” I hissed.
“The hot guy from that cop show you like is starring in it.”
