Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 63289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Give me that joint in your purse.”
Claire blinked. “How did you know I had a—?”
“You’re going to discover today that I know a lot of things.” I rose from my seat, ducked my head, went to her, and sat down.
“Why don’t you sit back over there?” Claire gripped her purse. “I don’t think you need to be smoking anything right now.”
I leaned her way and whispered in her ear, “I know you’re fucking Horace.”
She gasped.
“Give me that joint.” I tilted away. “Bernard, I need a lighter.”
“Uh.” He glanced at Claire. “I actually don’t have one.”
“You do, and by the way I think you’re lowkey racist for that plane joke. You can’t say the n-word. Honestly, Black people shouldn’t be saying it either.”
Horace turned and glared at Bernard. “You said the n-word?”
“You know. I may have a lighter.” Bernard rushed with getting it and then handed it to me.
Meanwhile, Claire had the joint out too.
I grabbed both and headed back to my seat. “Here we go.”
I snatched my mask off and threw it on the floor. “Claire—”
“Don’t do this.” Her bottom lip quivered.
“I’m not going to talk about that, unless. . .” I placed the joint between my lips, raised the lighter, and lit it.
Claire gazed at me. “U-unless what?”
I blew out smoke. “Unless you don’t tell me what I need to know?”
Horace chuckled. “What is going on right now?”
I pointed to him. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Hey. Hey.” Horace raised his hands in front of him. “I think you need to calm it down. We are on our way to an elegant party and—”
“I said shut up.” I flicked ash on the floor.
Ryan smirked and sipped his champagne.
I put my view back on Claire. “What is Horace hiding from me? What is he doing behind the scenes? Is it something to do with my money?”
She opened her mouth in shock.
“As my friend, you should have told me, but. . .I guess you’re not my friend.”
Horace kept those hands in the air. “Okay. Okay. S-so this is getting weird. Let’s table this conversation—”
“Shut up!” I pointed the joint at him. “Your moment is coming. Right now, I’m asking my bestie something.”
Claire began patting down her hair as if strands were out of place. However, it was all perfect.
Why couldn’t we have truly been friends? Were we ever? Or did you just. . .stop liking me at some point?
I took a hit of the joint and then blew out smoke. “Let me explain how this is going to go, Claire. I am going to count to three and you are—”
“Maya, don’t do this.” Claire shook her head over and over. “Okay? This is not right—”
“This is absurd.” Horace took off his mask and wiped sweat off his forehead. “I mean really. Let’s put the music back on and get ready for the party of a—”
“I count to three, Claire, and if you don’t tell me what Horace is hiding, then I’m telling everyone your secret.” I placed the joint back in my mouth and inhaled. “Play with me if you want. I have nothing to lose today.”
Still smirking, Ryan crossed his legs and drank more of his champagne.
I bet he won’t be dropping that glass this time.
I exhaled smoke. “One.”
Claire placed her hand on her chest. “Maya, listen to me—”
“Two.”
Horace gazed at Claire wildly. “There’s nothing to say. Nothing. So don’t worry, Claire because there is nothing at all to—”
“Three.”
Claire screamed, “He’s stealing money from you!”
Horace shrieked.
Ryan shook his head.
Claire continued, “Every contract he takes at least 50% and says the advance is lower, and then takes his 15% from that amount too.”
My heart broke, but I wouldn’t let it show on my face.
Claire’s hands shook on her lap. “All your book signings that you think are free and for promotion or set up by your publishers, are really him getting paid by the book stores for you to come. And he pockets all of that. And—”
“This is outrageous!” Horace scooted to the edge of the seat. “All of these things are lies! I don’t know what is going on but I will not have my name—”
“What else?” I stared at Claire.
“I-I said enough.” Claire placed those perfectly manicured fingers in a prayer position. “That is quite enough.”
“What else?”
“None of this is true, Maya.” Horace did a fake laugh. “This is a joke. Right? Ha ha. Are you all playing a trick on me? Are there hidden cameras in the limo?”
Claire lowered her voice. “Please, Maya. I think—”
“What else?”
She sighed. “He has a white man that he gives your manuscripts to.”
Rage boiled in my me. “My book babies?”
“The man adds things here and there and changes the characters’ identities to better fit a white romance audience. Horace calls it literary refurbishing. And they’re publishing those books under another name. Your books.”
Could it be Horace trying to kill me? Surely, he knew that if I found out, I would definitely tell the world.