Farewell Seas

by Lily Harper Hart

  AFTER BREAKFAST, QUINN HEADED to the room they would be using for the conference and Rowan made her way to the main deck so she could snap more photographs. Quinn’s men were still on duty — and said they heard signs of movement inside Rosalind’s room — but she hadn’t yet emerged. That was honestly good for them, so they decided to treat it as a gift from the gods.

  “You want iced tea?” Demarcus asked as Rowan loitered near the bar. It was a relatively gloomy day — especially by paradise standards — so the bar was empty.

  “Sure.” Rowan bobbed her head and hopped on a stool. “It’s awfully empty out here this morning.”

  “That’s because the authors have the conference thing all afternoon,” Demarcus explained, sliding a glass in front of her and smiling. “None of them are looking forward to it either. I guess attendance is mandatory if they expect to write off the trip, though. I never knew how desperate people were for tax write-offs until I started working on The Bounding Storm, mind you. Apparently, it’s a big deal.”

  Rowan smirked at his faux outrage. “Yes, well, those are problems you and I will never have to deal with ... at least as long as we’re working here.”

  “True story.” Demarcus kept his hands busy as he wiped down the bar with a rag. “What are your plans for the day?”

  “I have to shoot the conference.”

  Demarcus made a hilarious face. “You’re kidding. That sounds like the dullest assignment ever.”

  Rowan merely shrugged. “It’s part of the gig. I don’t really have a choice in the matter.”

  “No, I guess not.” He pasted a bright smile on his face when he caught sight of movement over Rowan’s shoulder. She turned to see who he was greeting and added her own smile to the mix when she recognized Julia West’s assistant. She was with another woman who looked vaguely familiar, but Rowan couldn’t put her finger on where she knew her from.

  “Hello.” Rowan kept her smile in place. “How are you guys today?”

  “Some of us are better than others,” the woman Rowan thought she should know said as she grabbed the closest stool. “Lila here is very worried about finding another job. I told her that was ridiculous, that people are going to be crazy to hire her, but she won’t believe me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Jazzy.” Lila was morose. “It’s just ... I would feel better if I have a job. Some of us have to worry about paying our rent every month. We’re not independently wealthy.”

  Rowan widened her eyes. “You’re Jazzy Jessup?”

  Jazzy nodded, amused by the change in Rowan’s demeanor. “Let me guess, you’re a fan.”

  “I’ve read some of your stuff and like it,” Rowan acknowledged. “You’ve got a gift for dialogue. It’s fun and makes me laugh out loud. Some of your guys are a little too alpha for my taste, though.”

  “Really?” Instead of being offended, Jazzy’s eyebrows hopped and she let loose with a chuckle. “I almost forgot what it was like to have someone tell me the truth.”

  Rowan realized right away that she might have overstepped her bounds. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing. I mean ... I know people absolutely love your stuff. I wasn’t trying to be insulting.”

  Jazzy waved off the comment. “Don’t worry about it. There’s no reason to freak. I don’t mind when people don’t like my stuff. I just wish they wouldn’t read it instead of sending me insults via email and private message.”

  “Do you get a lot of insults?” Demarcus asked, legitimately curious. “I guess I never thought about that. I just assumed you were universally loved if you sold a lot of books.”

  “Oh, no.” Jazzy shook her head as she accepted the tonic water Demarcus handed her. Rowan figured she had to be a frequent visitor to the tiki bar because he automatically knew what she wanted. “Some people like whatever I write, and that’s a great feeling. It makes me want to keep writing and it gives me bursts of imagination that propel me forward.

  “Other people, though, they send some really nasty emails,” she continued. “I’ve gotten death threats because my heroines don’t always end up with the characters certain individuals think they should end up with.”

  Rowan was horrified by the prospect. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, and it’s freaky.” Jazzy sipped her tonic water. “When I was struggling to get picked up by an agent and publisher, I thought everything in my life would be perfect when I started selling books. I guess it’s a case of the grass always being greener, but once I started selling, I found I still had problems. They were simply different problems.”

  “What happens if you get a death threat?” Rowan asked, her mind busy. “I mean ... do those go to your account, or do they go straight to your publisher?”

  “It’s a mixture. Sometimes I get them. Sometimes the publisher does. I think most of them — like ninety-nine percent — are harmless venting. I mean, it’s flattering people care about the characters enough to get worked up over their lives, but I still cry when I read negative reviews. I don’t know why it’s so hard, but it’s like sitting back and watching other people kick puppies. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  Oddly enough, Rowan found she understood what the woman was saying. While she obviously didn’t have to deal with it on the same scale as Jazzy, she could remember a time or two when an editor said he didn’t like the photos she’d taken of a crime scene and she took it to heart.

  “How often do you think authors such as yourself — ones who are in the public eye — get death threats?” Rowan asked, her mind busy. “I mean ... do you think Julia got death threats?”

  Jazzy and Lila snorted in unison.

  “Oh, she definitely got death threats,” Lila said. She looked to be drinking straight orange juice as she reminisced about her boss. “It was my job to answer all her fan mail.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what was it like?” Rowan queried. “I’m not trying to be a busybody or anything. It’s just ... my boyfriend is head of security and we’ve been discussing Julia’s death. Is it possible an irate fan hid amongst the authors and went after her?”

  “I guess anything is possible,” Jazzy replied after a moment’s consideration. “I mean ... authors are readers, too. I know it sounds weird, but I geek out whenever I meet authors I love. There are a few I’ve met on this cruise, in fact. They think it’s weird for me to gush over them, but I can’t help it.

  “The thing is, as a fan, I think readers forget that authors are human, too,” she continued. “We have real feelings and emotions. When it comes to Julia, she definitely forgot what it was like to be a normal person. She melted down left and right — and in public — and treated her fans abysmally. She didn’t seem to care.”

  Rowan glanced to Lila for confirmation. “You spent a lot of time with her. Is that what you thought, too?”

  Lila shrugged. “She wasn’t exactly a nice boss. She pushed me to the limit so many times I lost count. I threatened to quit — and did quit — several times. The publisher kept offering me more and more money to stay so I couldn’t really turn it down. Plus, even though she was horrible, there’s a certain pedigree associated with working for the top-selling author of any given year.”

  “That’s true.” Rowan rolled her neck until it cracked, something occurring to her. “Wait ... how do you guys know each other?” Her gaze bounced between faces. “Are you considering hiring Lila as your assistant? That might work out well for both of you.”

  Instead of nodding, Jazzy chuckled. “No, Lila can’t work for me. We’re friends.”

  Confused, Rowan narrowed her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  “We’ve been friends since high school,” Lila explained. “We came into the business together, started ghostwriting together. Jazzy lucked out and hit it big, but I’m still struggling. We talked about me working for her but both agreed we didn’t want to risk our friendship in case someone lost their temper. It’s simply better if I work for someone else; then Jazzy and I can hang
out and not worry about work.”

  “That actually makes sense,” Rowan acknowledged. “Still, it must have been difficult to work for Julia knowing the things she must have said about Jazzy. It’s my understanding that Julia wanted to control everyone in that Grand Dames group.”

  “Oh, boy, did she.” Jazzy seemed amused by the conversational turn, but Rowan noted that Lila wasn’t as comfortable. Of course, even if she disliked her, Lila must’ve felt some form of loyalty to her boss, even if it was minuscule.

  “I’m interested in this Grand Dames group,” Demarcus admitted. Whether he realized he was helping her or not, Rowan was thankful for the investigative assist. His questions came off as natural curiosity. “How did that even get started?”

  “I honestly don’t even know,” Jazzy replied. “I heard about the group vaguely – you know, whispers and gossip – and when I was invited, I was shocked. I mean ... I knew I’d sold a bunch of books. I really did hit it at the exact right time.

  “In fact, Lila and I were talking about writing a series of books together before my series hit and I couldn’t commit to writing with her,” she continued. “We were both sad about that, although it’s probably for the best because I’ve heard of writing collaborations ruining friendships. I didn’t want to risk that.”

  Rowan’s senses started tingling as she spared a glance for Lila. The look on the woman’s face told her that Lila was prepared to risk the friendship in exchange for professional glory. Obviously she hadn’t voiced that opinion to Jazzy, though, because the other woman carried on as if she didn’t notice the change washing over her friend.

  “As for when the group started, I really can’t say,” Jazzy said. “I agreed to be part of the group because my agent told me it was unheard of to turn down membership. I thought it might be fun. I was wrong, though. It’s a power struggle, and there’s nothing fun about that.”

  “How do things work?” Demarcus asked. “I mean ... do you do anything?”

  “Yup.” Jazzy bobbed her head. “For my first meeting, we sat in a room together and gossiped about the other writers. I thought that was fun for about five minutes, until I heard some of the hateful things they were saying.

  “The thing is, I don’t really want to be part of the group,” she continued. “My publisher says I have to be. He didn’t come right out and say that they would stop carrying my books if I quit, but it was sort of insinuated.”

  “Wow.” Rowan didn’t know what to say. “That seems sort of harsh.”

  “It’s totally harsh,” Jazzy agreed. “What sucks about it is that Lila would totally love to be part of the group. She knew about the Grand Dames when we were in high school.”

  “I did,” Lila confirmed, taking on a far-off expression. “I always wanted to be part of the group. I planned to make it there — one way or another — no matter what.”

  “You still have time,” Jazzy pointed out. “If I can make it, anyone can. We just need to find the right books for you to write.”

  “That’s not as easy as you make it sound,” Lila snapped, taking Jazzy by surprise with her vehemence. “I mean, I’ve written a lot of stuff that I’m proud of and no one cares.” She adjusted her tone. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. It’s just ... it’s been a long couple of days.”

  Jazzy clucked, sympathy rolling off her. “I know. We’re going to find something. You just need an assistant gig to tide you over. Once we get back, we’re going to put our heads together and come up with something magnificent.

  “Who knows, but this time next year, you could be the fourth Grand Dame,” she said. “You would like that, and I would finally have someone to talk to during the meetings if you’re there to balance out the vitriol.”

  Lila brightened considerably. “Do you think that’s a legitimate possibility?”

  “Oh, yeah. You’re really talented. I’ve always thought so. In fact, you’re more talented than I am. I just happened to get lucky.”

  Instead of correcting Jazzy and complimenting her abilities, Lila nodded. “It’s getting closer. I get down in the dumps sometimes because ... well, you know, but it’s getting closer. I definitely think this is going to be my year.”

  Jazzy patted her wrist. “I know it is. In fact, we have an hour before the conference starts. Let’s look over one of those outlines you were telling me about and we’ll see if we can work it to something that will sell.”

  “Great.” Lila hopped off her stool, talk of Julia completely forgotten. “Let’s go. I can’t wait to show you the billionaire book I was talking about a few weeks ago. You said you didn’t think it would sell because it’s too close to what Julia wrote, but now that she’s dead, her books are going to hit the top of the charts again and all the publishers are going to be looking for similar stuff.”

  “You have a point.” Jazzy waved at Rowan before disappearing with her friend, allowing the tiki bar to sink into silence.

  Rowan waited until she was sure Jazzy and Lila were out of hearing distance before speaking. “That was weird, right?”

  “I think they’re all weird. Do you have something specific in mind, though?”

  Rowan nodded as she moved to depart. “I need to find Quinn before the conference. There’s something I need to talk to him about.”

  “Does it involve dirty books?” Demarcus’s eyes twinkled with amusement, causing Rowan to frown.

  “I’m going to glue his lips shut if he’s not careful.”

  “That might only turn him on.”

  “Ha, ha, ha.”

  17

  Seventeen

  Rowan found Quinn in the largest ballroom the ship had to offer. It had been decked out for the conference — a long table at the front of the room with name tags in front of assigned seats — and hundreds of chairs were already in place for the guests. She was eager to tell him what she overheard, but she slowed her pace when she realized Quinn wasn’t alone.

  Paul was with him, and they looked to be having an intense conversation.

  “So ... you guys are going to get married?” Paul asked as he helped Quinn test the cameras in each corner of the room.

  Instead of immediately responding, Quinn snickered.

  “I’m serious,” Paul pressed. “Rowan said you have plans for the future. I’m simply trying to get a feel for them.”

  “Are you asking my intentions toward Rowan?” Quinn asked finally.

  Paul nodded. “I am.”

  “Well, I’d be more than willing to tell you my intentions if you tell me yours. What are your intentions toward Rowan?”

  Paul balked. “What do you mean? I don’t understand what you’re insinuating.”

  Quinn sobered, his eyes going dark, all traces of mirth erased from his features. “You know exactly what I’m talking about and I’m not in the mood to play games. Are you planning on leaving again?”

  Paul heaved out a sigh. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you’d better make up your mind. We don’t have a lot of time left on this cruise and I would think you’d want to have a plan in place for when we dock.”

  “I had a plan in place up until yesterday,” Paul grumbled, handing Quinn a motion-detector sensor. He seemed to recognize the equipment Quinn was working with. “Now I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “I find it hard to believe that you really thought Rowan was going to leave with you,” Quinn argued, blasé. “I mean ... that might have been what you wished for in your wildest dreams, but it wasn’t realistic.”

  “I thought it was realistic.”

  “You thought the daughter you raised was going to abandon the man she loves?”

  “Ugh.” Paul made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “You like saying that, don’t you? Yes, I know she loves you. I’m not blind nor an idiot. That doesn’t mean I want to sit around and talk about it, for crying out loud.”

  “Hey, you volunteered to help me.”

  “Because I figured Rowan would be here
. I thought you were supposed to be watching her. She could be in trouble and you don’t even know it.”

  Quinn let loose a long-suffering sigh, almost as if Paul was his father and he was sick of hearing the whining. “I happen to know exactly here Rowan is.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Paul obviously wasn’t convinced, and his expression caused Rowan to swallow a giggle. She remembered it from her childhood. It was the same expression he used when she denied toilet-papering Sandra Stevens’s trees after a fight in home economics. “Where is she?”

  “Standing on the other side of the room eavesdropping on us,” Quinn replied without hesitation. “I believe she’s having a good time listening to us squabble.”

  Rowan was mortified to be caught, but she took a bold step forward. Paul widened his eyes when he saw her, his gaze going between Quinn and his daughter several times before focusing on her.

  “Why were you eavesdropping?” Paul asked finally. “Why not just come in and join the conversation?”

  “Because I like listening to Quinn talk about me,” Rowan said after a beat, moving toward the two men with a whimsical smile. “He’s the schmaltzy sort and I like hearing him say wonderful things about me.”

  Quinn winked as he climbed down from a ladder. “And I love you hearing the wonderful things I say about you.” He tapped Rowan’s chin to get her to raise it and gave her a quick kiss. “Where have you been? I expected you back here forty minutes ago so we could discuss the best plan for watching Rosalind this afternoon.”

  “I was in the tiki bar.”

  Quinn’s eyebrows hopped. “It’s a little early. Are P.J. and I driving you to drink?”

  “No. I went for the iced tea and stayed for the discussion.” She rubbed her hands together, excited. “So, you’re never going to guess what I overheard.” She launched into her tale, leaving nothing out. When she was finished, Quinn was intrigued and Paul’s expression defied categorization.

  “Do you think Lila is capable of killing Julia?” Quinn asked, rubbing the back of his neck as he pictured the diminutive assistant. “She’s not very big. Remember, it would’ve taken someone with strength to dump Julia in that laundry bin.”