Mr. Write

by Monica James

  Watching her read my book did something to me. My feelings for Carrie, regardless of how she feels about me, are growing each day. I know she said she just wants to be friends, but I can’t stop this pull I feel toward her. She has the ability to just…take my breath away. And when these feelings erupt, I write my best stuff.

  With Carrie curled up by the fire, reading my book, I smashed out words like a madman possessed. It felt like I was writing for her because I wanted to see her reading this new book. I wanted her to be the very first person to read what meeting her had done for me. She is the inspiration behind every word, so I’ll be damned if it’s anything but perfect.

  So on my table lies three fucking good chapters. I nailed it. I cut out all the bullshit and pulled back the layers to deliver an honest, relatable story. Our leads—Bailey and Leyton—meet when they are kids, and this story will detail their life. I used all the experiences thus far to shape my story, and I can’t wait to add more.

  But that will have to wait because now, I have to tend to my best mate.

  I won’t lie, the moment I open the door, I’m happy to see this bloody bastard. “Fuck and you,” he says as he shoulders past me. “You couldn’t have chosen someplace warmer to write?”

  “Hello to you too.” I close the door and wonder how long it’ll take him to ask about Carrie.

  I give him three…two…

  “So…?”

  And one.

  “Where’s the other Bell daughter? Is she as hot as Daisy?”

  Rolling my eyes, I walk toward the table and pour us some scotch. “There is no comparison. And I’m not talking about looks. Carrie is…something else.”

  I pass Nick his glass, but he narrows his eyes, cocking his head. “I recognize this look.” He sweeps his finger up and down.

  “You’ve finally lost the plot, mate.” If he’s going to torture me, it seems only fair I drink his scotch. But he smacks my hand away.

  “Someone has a crush,” he singsongs while I really need that drink.

  “I don’t have anything, and would you lower your voice? She’s in the bathroom.” I regret my admission instantly because I’ve just thrown poor Carrie under a bus.

  “Oh, Carrie,” he croons, sauntering over to the bathroom. There is no point in trying to stop the inevitable, so I reach for the bottle and take a seat on the sofa.

  The door opens and out comes Carrie, looking beyond gorgeous. It’s actually comical to see Nick at a loss for words. But I suppose Carrie has that effect on everyone.

  She meets my gaze from across the room with a smile. I raise my glass. “Meet Nicholas West. My agent.”

  “And don’t forget best and most attractive friend,” he adds, extending his hand. When she places her hand in his, he raises it to his lips and kisses the back of it. This man has no shame.

  A tiny giggle escapes her. It appears she’s not immune to Nick’s charisma.

  “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Don’t believe a word of it. Unless it involves—”

  “All right,” I interrupt, shooting up before Carrie is introduced to Nick’s charm. “Shall we?”

  Nick is still holding Carrie’s hand. “Are you coming with us, ma chérie?”

  I shake my head while downing my scotch. He has no shame.

  Carrie gently removes her hand before replying, “No. I’m catching up with a friend.”

  “You are?” My ears prick up as this is the first I’ve heard of this.

  “Yes. We’re just going out for dessert.”

  “My favorite kind of meal,” Nick says, tongue in cheek. I pale, wishing I’d opted for another question.

  Carrie shrugs into her coat and slips on her leather gloves, indicating she has no intention of revealing just who this friend is.

  I need to take a chill pill and calm the fuck down. She can have dessert with whomever she likes. We’re just friends, I remind myself for the ten thousandth time. But it doesn’t stick. The fact she won’t divulge just who this friend is has me guessing it’s a man. Maybe Mason?

  A grinding fills the room. It’s not until my jaw aches that I realize the grinding is coming from my jaw.

  Nick is onto me and wears that damn smug smile once again. Screw him.

  “Well, good luck,” Carrie says, coming over to where I stand and giving me a hug.

  The softness of her curves and the delicacy of her scent on my palate has me wishing she’d just waved goodbye because being her friend is a lot harder when we embrace this way. But pulling my shite together, I break from our union gently. She seems surprised but recovers before I can question her.

  “Have a nice night.” And there’s that word again. Nice. Just how I’m a nice friend.

  This exchange is nothing short of awkward, so I slap my hands together. “Where are we meeting Gerry?”

  Nick stands on the sidelines. Carrie clears her throat as she brushes back a curl of hair behind her ear.

  “He was going to come here, but I told him to meet us at that amazing dumpling place, Siang Kitchen. Liz…” But his sentence comes to a halt when he realizes he just mentioned the she-devil.

  Carrie’s gaze instantly drops to the floor because Liz appears to be a touchy subject for us both. She’s not even here, yet she still manages to ruin my life. “That’s fine. Let’s go.”

  I grab the stack of papers off the desk and avoid looking at Carrie, but I can feel her watching me. “Bye, dove.” I nudge Nick, hinting it’s time to leave.

  He thankfully gets the hint but not before he mouths, “Dove?” with an arched brow.

  “It was nice meeting you.”

  “You too,” Carrie says, a sadness echoing in her words. But I can’t let that worry me. We’re friends, and if she wanted to share what’s wrong, she would. Just as she’d share who she’s seeing tonight.

  This shouldn’t irk me, but it does. And the moment we step into the hallway, the Dr. Phil in Nick emerges. “You are falling for that girl. Or should I say dove.”

  “Please. Don’t be ridiculous. I hardly know her.” Even to my ears, I sound like a pathetic twat.

  “Jayden, you’re a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them.” This is true. Lying is my hard limit. A deal breaker.

  “It doesn’t matter either way,” I say, stabbing at the elevator button, “because she just wants to be friends.”

  “Oof.” Nick makes a pained face, mimicking my inner turmoil perfectly. “Why did you get friend zoned?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because I was fucking her sister and lots of sisters before I met her. She asked me how many women I’ve slept with, and you know what, I don’t even know. What kind of person doesn’t have a rough estimate of how many people they’ve shagged?”

  “A fucking rock star,” Nick offers while I groan.

  “Stop being such a pussy. Before Liz, you were a fucking saint. You’re allowed to run a little wild.”

  “But that doesn’t seem to matter, mate, because the afterburn will be my legacy. I need a fucking drink,” I mumble, running a hand down my face.

  The elevator opens, and we squeeze inside, talks of my whoredom forgotten for now.

  “So how are the sample chapters?” Nick asks, flicking through the pages.

  “I’m pleased to say bloody brilliant.” I’m thankful for the change in pace.

  The doors thankfully open because Nick was seconds away from kissing me. “That’s my boy. What’s it about?”

  When we hit the sidewalk, we hustle into our jackets and walk the three blocks to the restaurant.

  “Love,” I reply as I place my hands into my leather jacket pockets.

  “Loving what? I love blueberry bagels. So you have to be a little more specific. I can’t pitch a book without a hook.”

  “It’s about the innocence of love. A simple story of boy meets girl, and the obstacles they face. They’ve known one another since kids. But I want to detail how, in the real world, the good guy doesn’t
always win.”

  “Oh, god. You’re going to rip out my spleen, aren’t you? This better not be an autobiography.”

  We sidestep groups of people because regardless of the weather, someone is always taking a photo. This is Paris, after all.

  “It’s not. I came to Paris because I needed a change in scenery. I’ve drawn inspiration from mere strangers who have helped me look outside the box.”

  “And Carrie wouldn’t happen to be one of these people, would she?” Nick may come across as a raging hard-on most of the time, but he’s not stupid, by any means. He’s also a persistent bastard.

  Thankfully, we arrive at the restaurant, avoiding any more heart-to-hearts.

  Gerry is sitting in a booth in the back, frantically typing on his cell. “Remember, play it cool. Let me do the talking. We don’t want him to know how eager we are.”

  I nod because honestly, talking shop is a fucking bore. I’d be happy with a handshake over a beer, but Nick is a stickler for the rules. “Gerry, great to see you again.” Gerry peers up from his phone and shoots up when he sees me behind Nick.

  “Nick.” They shake hands, then I offer mine to Gerry. “And J.E. Sparrow. Hello.”

  “Jayden is fine,” I correct, not interested in being treated like some rock star.

  We take our seats, and I look over my shoulder, hoping to attract the attention of a waiter. I need a drink.

  “Are those for me?” I almost forgot about the stack of papers I was holding.

  “Yes, sorry.” I place them on the table, about to slide them over to him, but Nick slaps his hand onto them. Let the games begin.

  “Not so fast.” Gerry shifts in his seat. I feel sorry for the poor bastard because Nick drives a hard bargain. “Before we show you Jayden’s next bestseller, which will be sure to make millions, let’s talk business. What makes you so special?”

  Now I’m the one to squirm. Alerting a waitress, I indicate I need three drinks. I don’t care what she brings me, but anything is better than doing this sober. “As you know, I am a massive fan, Jayden. When we signed you over ten years ago, I knew you were headed for great things. Your success is no surprise. You have that something special most authors strive for. But under Axle, your talent is being squashed. He’s giving you the same covers, the same marketing. He’s not willing to evolve. This market is changing. Romance is a harder genre to crack. It’s saturated with J.E. Sparrow wannabes, and Axle will soon enough replace you with someone who would accept a quarter of the advances we’ve given you. Talent doesn’t matter. Money does. He’s cutting corners and scooping up every author he can just to build an empire.”

  When the waitress places three beers in front of me, I almost kiss her in gratitude.

  “So how will Williams Publishing be different?”

  “I’ll invest not only my money but my time in each author we sign.” He emphasizes his point by jabbing his finger onto the tabletop. “And as I mentioned, Jayden will be one of our main authors. We won’t be saturated with authors. We will focus on the talent we have.”

  I sit back and sip my beer, wishing Nick would just put Gerry out of his misery. And besides, he may hate the sample chapters. No point in talking numbers until he actually reads what he’s investing his money into.

  “So half a mil advance is where we’re sitting at?”

  I spit up my beer. “For one book?” I ask, incredulously.

  Nick kicks me in the shin, which is my cue to shut the hell up. But this is madness. Gerry needs to read the damn chapters before he goes and throws that sort of money around.

  “No, per book. I’m wanting to buy your next three books, with a fifty-fifty split.”

  “Gerry, that’s—”

  “Not good enough.” Nick cuts me off, kicking me once again. “The risk Jayden is taking by signing with you is vast. He has been loyal to A&G Publishing for so long that he would look like a disloyal bastard if he were to come over to Williams Publishing. And you know how this industry loves a good scandal. This has the potential to ruin his name if your company were to fold. You’re new, and there are no guarantees. It’s risky.” Nick leans back, unruffled, while Gerry looks seconds away from having a heart attack.

  I feel sorry for the poor chap. But Nick is like a dog with a bone.

  “A six hundred-thousand-dollar advance per book. I can’t do any more than that.”

  Gerry is clearly on crack.

  “Mate, just take a read before you offer that kind of quid.” I slide him the chapters, ignoring Nick’s evil glares. I can’t take that sort of money. It would ruin Gerry if I didn’t deliver.

  He accepts but is firm when he replies, “I have no doubt this will be phenomenal. I will read it tonight and let you know what I think. And while I’m doing that, maybe you could think about my offer.”

  “Will do. Thank you, Gerry. Whatever happens, I want you to know that I appreciate your belief in me.” I sound like a soft cock, but it’s the truth.

  He nods. “And that’s exactly the reason I do. You haven’t let your success go to your head. You’re humble, and humility is hard to come by these days.”

  “I had enough arrogance in the form of my ex-wife.”

  Gerry bursts into a rowdy roar while Nick ceases from bruising my shin for now. “I hate to chat and run, but I have a Skype call in fifteen minutes. These time zones are impossible.” He goes to stand. “I will be in touch.” My chapters are clenched in his hand as if he’s holding the Holy Grail. I hope I don’t disappoint.

  We say our goodbyes, and when he’s out of earshot, Nick slaps me on the back of my head. “Ouch. Motherfucker. What was that for?” I ask, rubbing my skull.

  “We had him. Hook. Line. And sinker. Sometimes, your integrity is sickening.”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  Nick talks big, but he knows I did the right thing. If Gerry signed me and my books sucked balls, that would be the end of my career.

  “I need to be to make up for your lack of social grace.” Nick steals my beer, proving my point.

  We order some food and more beer, and I go into detail about what occurred with Axle and Daisy. Out of principle, there is no way I want to sign with Axle. But Nick’s concerns are warranted. Changing from the publisher who nurtured your career isn’t taken too kindly. I have to be prepared for some bad press.

  As I’m explaining how I saw a little too much of Nora, I notice Nick looking over my shoulder. When he continues looking, I give in and turn to see what’s so exciting. I don’t see anything. “What are you looking at?”

  I turn back around, hands turned upward, hinting he give me a clue.

  “You’re fucking serious?”

  “Are you high? Actually, don’t answer that. Yes, I’m serious.”

  Nick looks at me like I’ve just grown a second head. “You missed those two hot babes behind you who are ready to offer you their own dumplings?”

  I curl my lip as his analogy just put me off my food.

  However, I subtly turn back around to see who exactly he’s talking about. Two pretty brunettes sit a few feet away. The one on the left waves and giggles. I wave back, but it lacks the oomph and resembles a flaccid penis.

  That analogy is indeed valid this time because that’s exactly how I feel when looking at two women who would usually wet my whistle.

  “Should we invite them over?” Nick asks, sitting taller in his seat and flashing his killer smile. Nick has no trouble with the ladies. He’s dark-haired, blue-eyed, and successful. He also oozes confidence. But I have no interest in making this a foursome.

  “You can do whatever you want. Once I’m done eating, I’m going to sleep.” I reach for my beer, watching as Nick’s mouth gapes open in horror.

  “Don’t you mean going to search for your balls? What is the matter with you?” He appears horrified, and I can’t help but chuckle.

  “You know, you offend the English language every time you open your mouth.”

  “Well, you offend my cock
by being a cock blocker. So fuck you.”

  Our food arrives, but I’ve suddenly lost my appetite as memories of Liz assault me. I push away the plate and nurse my beer instead. Nick has no issues eating for two.

  “It’s Carrie, isn’t it?” he says around a mouthful of food.

  “It’s Carrie what?” I’ve been good thus far, but now that he’s said her name, I can’t help but wonder how her night is going.

  “You clearly only have eyes for her because normally, you’d be all up in those girls’ faces. Not to mention, other parts.”

  “Well, I was a stupid wanker for thinking with the wrong head.”

  Nick chews pensively, but I know he’s only gathering ammo to throw my way. “I bet if Carrie wanted you to think with the wrong head, you’d have no issues bowing to her command.”

  He’s right. Fuck him.

  “I kissed her. Well, sort of.”

  His fork slides along the table and swan dives into my lap. It takes him three attempts, but he eventually spits out, “You what? What about your no kissing rule? And what does sort of mean? You forgot how to use not only your dick but your mouth as well?”

  Seeing him this riled up humors me. “We didn’t kiss per se. I pressed my lips to hers…”

  But Nick cuts me off as he waves his hands in the air. “Okay, stop. Now you’re just embarrassing yourself. You either kissed, or you didn’t. It hasn’t been so long that you’ve forgotten.”

  “Of course not. It wasn’t tongue and groping and me smacking her arse. It was soft and tender, and I was so fucking hard, I wanted to throw her over my shoulder and fuck her into next week.”

  Nick fist pumps the air. “There he is. My boy. So why didn’t you step it up?”

  “Because that’s when she friend zoned me.”

  “In the middle of your sort of kiss?”

  I nod, drowning my sorrows in my beer. “She said she’s not interested in being my rebound. That I’m still in love with”—I swallow down the vomit —“Liz. I didn’t want to tell her I shagged the rebound from my system fifty something women before her because it didn’t matter. I’m not her Mr. Right, if there even is such a thing.”