by Rachel Astor
“Oh my God, they never go trolling for work, people are always flocking all over them, begging them to represent their stuff.”
“Oh,” I said, furrowing my brow. “She just called my cell the other day.”
“So she obviously thinks you have huge potential. But… what does she want you to write?”
“Nothing,” I said, nonchalant.
“Nothing?”
“Yeah, nothing.” I cracked a smile. “She wants something that’s already written.”
Now it was Jen’s turn to furrow her brow.
“But how would she know about the romance novel? It’s not even done yet.”
I startled. “Holy crap. I nearly forgot about the romance novel.” I tilted my head, pondering. “I wonder if it would be easier to get a novel on the shelves if I already had a different book on there?”
“Okay, now I’m seriously confused. What the hell are you talking about?”
“She wants the Disaster Diary.”
Recognition covered Jen’s face. “Oh my God, of course. It’s perfect. So… is she shopping it yet?”
“Shopping?”
Jen rolled her eyes. “That’s what they call it when agents present it to publishers for consideration.”
“Oh, um… no.”
“Okay, so when is she going to?”
“Well, the thing is… it’s just that….” The wine was making it a bit hard to formulate the right words. “Jake doesn’t really want me to do it. You know, with all the bad press last time and everything.”
Jen’s mouth dropped open. “You have got to be kidding me. Do you have any idea how many people in this world are begging, beating down people’s doors, to get a book published? And you’re possibly going to pass the opportunity up? And you’re a WRITER?!”
She sat staring, mouth still hanging there in disbelief.
“Um… I guess I hadn’t really thought of it that way.”
She leaned back into the couch, her shoulders slumping. “I think I’m in shock. I just can’t believe…. I mean, just the other day you were going on and on about how you want a career and you don’t want to rely on Jake completely for all your money and everything. My God, this is your chance.”
“Um… I guess you’re right.” I said, taking another long sip. “I honestly hadn’t realized how hard it might be to break into writing for a living.”
She handed me the computer. “Email her.”
And in that moment, I realized that Jen was completely right. I was totally looking forward to seeing the diary on shelves. I had been all along.
I quickly typed up a thank you and acceptance to Carla’s offer, attaching the copy of the diary I finished typing earlier. Jen pointed out how ridiculous it was that I was pretending to even waffle since, obviously I wanted to accept. I’d typed the darned thing out and everything.
I did wonder briefly if I should be drunk-emailing. But what did I have to lose? Sure, Jake might be a little upset for a while, but obviously he’d get over it.
The only thing was, the second I hit send, a wave of panic surged though me like I’d just jumped off a cliff.
CHAPTER 14
I could not believe how fast it came together. The next morning, Carla sent over a contract, and by the afternoon, the proposal had been sent to six big New York editors. By the end of the week, they’d all agreed to read it, and a couple had already expressed interested in acquiring it. Carla set up an auction for Monday. Everyone who was interested needed to bring their best offer.
I could not sleep all weekend. And there was certainly no way I was going to be able to make a decision about the wedding planner under those circumstances.
Of course, both Mattie and my mother wanted to haul me here, there and everywhere to show me about a gazillion things that I can honestly say, I remember very few of.
My mind was completely elsewhere.
I mean cripes, no woman could possibly have so much good going on in her life and yet my dreams were still coming true.
My career was about to take off.
And the best part… the work was pretty much already done.
It was a whirlwind of a day. I had to block all other calls—my mother and Mattie were so happy I was ignoring them—but info was coming in fairly regularly from Carla. I mean, I had no idea I would actually have to make the decisions that day, I kind of thought Carla would take care of it all, but she kept calling to ask about money, publishing dates, who I’d prefer for editing (like I had any friggin’ clue), all the way down to if I wanted to sell rights to other countries myself, or if I wanted the publisher to go ahead and do it on my behalf.
Needless to say, my mind was a big lump of Jell-O by the end of the day.
But I was certainly not going to have to worry about rent for a long, long time. In fact, I was not going to have to worry about anything financially for a long, long time.
Plus, as part of Carla’s negotiating, another book was already in the deal. I was going to get to do the book about the wedding, which would totally be a lot of work, but the best part was, a lot of the work was already being done, and not even by me. I could not wait to tell my mother that she was going to be a co-author. You know, or Mattie.
Suddenly the whole thing didn’t seem quite as rosy as it had the moment I signed the contract.
But I shook the bad stuff out of my head and proceeded to find a way to celebrate. What in the world did I want most of all right that exact minute?
I could think of only one thing.
A nice, long, relaxing day at the spa.
I made an appointment for the next day and then slept like a baby, complete with a huge smile on my face.
For exactly eleven hours.
~ ~ ~
Seriously, I could never get enough of the spa. Sadly, I think it was more the lying there, not having to do anything at all that was more of a treat than the actual treatments themselves. And after all that detoxing, what else was there to do but throw a few toxins back into my system?
In the form of champagne.
Since Jake was still away, and I was pretty much doing everything in my power to avoid Mattie and Mom, Jen was nice enough to celebrate with me. This time she had sparkling cider while I drank away my bottle of bubbly.
After a few glasses, I wished I’d gotten the drier version. Too much sugar in my alcohol and my head turns into a vice, tightening my blood vessels into what amounts to the world’s most painful headache.
I stumbled outside for some fresh air, thinking the chill outside might help with the headache.
“Do not drive anywhere,” Jen yelled on my way out.
“I won’t,” I assured her.
I focused intently, blinking slowly and making sure I was extra safe crossing the street, trying to counter the affect of the alcohol, and headed to the park.
But this time, my bench was occupied.
By Andrea.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s a nice girl like you doing on a park bench like this?”
She smiled, humoring me. “I could ask the same of you,” she said, as I sat down.
I tilted my head, conceding.
Andrea flicked her cigarette into the sand under our bench and crushed it with her foot.
“I didn’t know you were a smoker.”
“I’m not really. Just sneak one every now and then when I’m over-stressed. Like a few times a month at the most.”
I nodded. “So what’s got you all stressed out?”
She shrugged. “I just found out rent’s going up… again. Third time in a year.” She sighed. “I’m just trying to figure out a way to keep up with it, you know?”
“Actually, I do. I mean, I know it’s ridiculous to have money troubles when I’m about to marry a millionaire, but I just hate relying on that, you know?”
“I get that,” she said, and it seemed like she actually did.
I groaned, and it had less to do with the headache than it did guilt spilling out.
&n
bsp; “What?” Andrea asked.
I sighed. “I’m just such an ass. Here I am sitting here complaining about money with you when I just had the most financially huge day of my life yesterday.”
Now that got her attention.
“Really?” she asked. “Is it something scoop worthy?”
My eyes lit up. “Hey, this could actually help you, couldn’t it?”
“Um, yeah. In a very big way.”
I smiled. “Well it’s not like it’s going to be a secret for long. The contract is already signed.”
“Ooh, contract,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Sounds intriguing. Prenup?”
I giggled. And then hiccupped. That champagne was really swirling around my head now. “No, I have no idea what we’re doing about prenups yet, but I did sign a different contract yesterday.”
Andrea leaned in.
“It has to do with my career.”
Andrea cocked her head to the side like she had no idea what I could possibly be talking about.
I sighed. “My career as a writer,” I said, slightly annoyed.
“Oh,” she said, leaning back again. “I didn’t know you were into writing.”
I raised my hands to the heavens and let them flop back down again. Which actually kind of hurt, considering the bench was a super solid wood. “Why does nobody know this about me for Pete’s sake? I was a copywriter before I was in the Bridesmaid Lotto. I have been writing all my life!” My mini-rant may have come out slightly louder than I had anticipated and Andrea gave an uneasy look in the direction of her colleagues still hanging out under the awning of my building, no doubt imagining her scoop drifting away as fast as it had drifted to her.
“Sorry, sorry, I remember that now. I just didn’t know it was something you were interested in pursuing.”
“I majored in English in college for God’s sake!”
“You went to college?” Andrea asked, seemingly shocked.
Thankfully, she turned out to be joking or I may have kicked her right off that bench.
Like, literally.
“Har, har,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“So then, what was the contract? It sounds like it must be awesome.”
I nodded. “It was so awesome you wouldn’t even believe it. We had all the major publishing houses beating down our door to buy my book. The negotiating was unbelievable. It was like a tennis match, except between more players. Back and forth, back and forth about eight million times. Advance dollars going up, print runs going up, every time I turned around, my agent was calling me with an even sweeter deal.”
Andrea had a sparkle in her eye like I’d never seen. Or perhaps it was dollar signs of her own twinkling away in there. She looked like a kid in a candy store, and I got to be the one that put that look on her face. “So,” she said, practically bouncing. “What’s the book? I had no idea you were writing anything.”
“Actually,” I said, conspiratorially, “you did.”
Now she really looked confused, which to my pickled brain, was immensely hilarious. I began to giggle.
And giggle.
And, you guessed it, giggle even more. I nearly fell off the bench I was giggling so hard, loving—just a little—that I had an ace up my sleeve and could reveal it if and when I wanted.
“They bought the Disaster Diary, didn’t they?” she whispered, leaning in close so no one could hear.
She did a good job too, since I barely even heard her.
I did hear enough, however, to bring my giggles to a stop. “How did you know?”
“Well, since you’ve given me several minutes with your little giggle fit, I, being the oh-so-intelligent person that I am, deduced that since I was supposed to know about whatever it was you’d written, and the only thing anyone knows you’ve written is your diary, the pieces really weren’t all that hard to piece together.”
“Oh,” I said, my cleverness crushed into the ground like her cigarette butt.
“But,” she said, her eyes twinkling again. “The point is, I am the only one who knows about it and, unless somebody famous dies, you have just given me at least the scoop of the week in newspaper land.”
“I have?” I asked, happy again. Andrea really was a very nice girl. And I really was happy to help.
“So, what about your cut?” she asked.
“My cut?”
“Yeah, what do you want me to do with your part of the money, you know, for being the source.”
I made a face. I was going for something that said, ‘are you nuts?’ but it may not have been exactly spot on. Especially since a tiny belch escaped at the exact same time I was trying to make it.
Andrea actually giggled at me. “Do I take that as an, ‘I’m so rich now, I don’t need your stinkin’ newspaper money?’”
I laughed. “Yes, you may take it as that.”
“Cool. And Josie… seriously, thanks. You’ve totally saved my butt, at least for a while.” She leaned back into the bench and looked up at the stars, content for the moment. “So, what are you going to do with the money? I mean, it’s not like you’re going to need it in three months or anything.”
I shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll find something to do with it. Jen and the baby could definitely use some of it, but the important thing is, at least now I know I have something to fall back on… a real career, you know?” I asked, looking over at her.
She was white as a ghost and her eyes were wider than the full moon above us. A surge of adrenaline pulsed through me, sure there must be a mugger or something lurking in the shadows behind me.
I slowly turned to look, certain I would come face to face with a blade or maybe even a gun barrel pointing down at me. But nothing was there. I turned back to Andrea, my brain struggling through the champagne haze to make head or tails of what was going on.
“Baby?” she whispered. “Oh my God, is Jen pregnant?”
My stomach plummeted from its normal spot to somewhere about three miles below our feet.
Oh my God, what had I done?
CHAPTER 15
“Oh shit, Andrea, you can not let that out.”
Her mouth was still hanging open.
“Seriously, the world cannot know about that yet,” I said, my brain scrambling for a way to make it better.
I had done some supremely stupid things in my life, but never something this horrible. Jen’s life was never going to be the same because of me.
“Josie, I…” Andrea was shaking her head, like she was trying to reconcile her job with our newfound friendship.
That was the thing though. The friendship was new. And shaky at best, considering Andrea’s chosen profession.
“Seriously Andrea, you can’t. You just can’t. I’ll be ruined. Jen will be ruined.”
Andrea crinkled her brow. “She won’t be ruined. It’s obviously going to come out eventually. Oh my God, how far along is she? It’s David Miller’s, isn’t it?”
The wheels were turning way too fast in Andrea’s head. But I had to find a way to reach her.
“Look, I promise I’ll give you every scoop I’ll ever have about my personal life… please, just don’t drag Jen into this.”
She glanced up at me. “Is she definitely keeping it?”
“Look you can’t report about this okay? If you do, I’ll…” I sighed. “I guess I’ll have to sue you or something.”
“Sue me?” she asked, hurt.
I nodded, then whispered, “Please keep her out of it.”
Andrea stared.
“Just, report on the Disaster Diary scoop. It will get you the money you need for now, right?”
“I guess,” she said, obviously still unsure.
I wanted to cry. God, how could I have gotten so comfortable with a freakin’ gossip reporter that I just started blabbing away every secret I had? I should have known never to leave the apartment after I’d had so many drinks. I was a disaster to begin with, but put a few drinks in me and it was like the whole world started
crumbling down.
~ ~ ~
I ran to the newsstand the next day, scanning the dozens of covers. “Oh my God, she kept it quiet,” I said aloud, and rather animatedly too, much to the surprise of the business lady standing beside me.
I wanted to run through the streets shouting to the heavens that my life was not over after all. I figured that might rouse suspicion as to what I was so relieved about though, so I decided to buy a copy of the paper Andrea sold her story to instead. I’d never been so happy to see my mug plastered on the front cover of a tabloid in my life.
Disaster Strikes: Josephine McMaster, Author was the headline.
I quite liked the sound of that, I decided. Author. I’d wanted the title for so long, it almost didn’t feel real. I tucked my copy under my arm, grabbed a couple coffees and headed back to the apartment.
“I did not expect you to be so chipper this morning after all that champagne.”
Suddenly, I realized I did feel a little queasy. I’d been so focused on the papers, I hadn’t even given myself time to notice if I was hung over.
And I definitely was. I mean, not the worst of my life, but it certainly wasn’t the most healthful morning ever.
And then the phone started ringing.
Silly me, here I thought it would be my friends and family calling to congratulate me and say how proud of me they are and everything, but no.
The first call was from my mother, checking in to make sure the date of the wedding had not changed, and was definitely not going to change.
“Geez mother, I told you, it has to be then because Jake is doing a movie right after. Why? What’s the panic?”
“Well, I just put down a huge deposit on a venue for the day and I would just about die if things were moved. It’s very expensive.”
“Mother! You booked a venue without me even seeing it?”
She cleared her throat. “Well somebody has to get this going. You certainly don’t seem interested in planning this wedding. And do you have any idea how long it took me just to find a place that was available? My God, three months is not nearly enough time to plan a whole wedding,” she babbled. “The place is quite large, much bigger than we’ll ever need, but we’re just going to have to set up false walls or something.”
