Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
“I could always hear you.”
“Oh! I can hear you! Funny how earbuds are so necessary.” He leans back in his chair, chuckling.
I’m distracted by his virtual background, which is the promotional poster for his upcoming three-seasons-guaranteed streaming deal. I sigh. It looks so fuckin’ cool.
“OK,” Terry says. “What’s the problem now? You’ve got too many ladies? You have too much money in the bank? Oh!” he exclaims again. “Right, right, right. The girl. Romance-novel gold, right? Seriously, though. How’d it go?”
“I only want to explain it once, so we gotta wait for Shawn and Luke.”
“Fine with me. While we’re waiting, let’s talk about my plot issues. I want feedback on the outline I need to turn in for that new five-book deal I just signed. I have one character who just doesn’t want to do what I tell him. Do you think—”
But just as he says that, the Boom moderator panel dings. “There he is.” I let Luke into the virtual room. His camera is on, but the audio’s not working because he hasn’t accepted it yet. Which might be for the best because there is a whole crowd of people in the background of his Venice Beach house.
He’s not even paying attention to us. He’s talking to a group of beautiful people using big hand gestures. Then they’re all laughing.
“Shit, what’s going on at Luke’s?” Terry is leaning in towards his screen like he needs to get a better look. “Oh, hey!” He laughs. “That’s my entertainment lawyer!” He starts waving at the screen. “Hello, Baker!”
“He can’t hear you.”
Terry frowns at me. “Dude. Why are you in such a bad mood?”
“OK, OK, OK.” Luke’s audio is working now. But he’s not talking to us. He’s talking to the lawyer. “I’ll sign the new contract. Fine, fine! You talked me into it!” He looks at us, via his laptop camera. “Ten million is a good deal for one script, right, Terry?”
Terry points at him. “Seal that shit up, bro.”
I sigh, then run my fingertips over my brows. My head hurts.
“OK, I’m back.” Shawn slides back into his chair. “My lovely wife is so lovely. It’s date weekend. Hot air balloon trip over to the private airstrip and then a surprise overnight flight to Maui. Put that in your romance book, Steve.”
How did I get here? This is the major plotline of the thoughts running through my head. How is it that all three of my best friends seem to be living my dream life simultaneously while I’m being accused of plagiarism by my current love interest?
“All right,” Luke says. “I’m here. I’m present. How can I help?”
“Steve is having lady issues,” Terry says.
“That’s so funny, right?” Shawn is laughing. “So ironic. I mean, the number one romance writer in the world can’t find love?” He points at the camera. “Write that shit down, Steve. Your life is a novel.”
“Live it like it’s fiction.” All of them say this at the same time.
I sigh again. “I get it. OK. It’s ironic. But you guys, this is serious.”
I then proceed to tell them what happened. Including the part where Britney and Cordelia figured out who I really am.
“I think this is good,” Luke says. “Dude, you just need to come out of your shell.”
“I’m not in a shell, Luke. This really isn’t about the whole SS thing. It’s about how she sees me. How can she, the lovely Cordelia, see me as a total cheater?”
“Well,” Shawn says, “you did lie.”
“I did. But Leslie Munch? I mean…” There’s really nothing to say to that. Even the guys snicker.
“Leslie Munch is a hack. No one in their right mind thinks you stole her story ideas,” Luke says.
“You just need to ignore her,” Terry says.
“It’s not about Leslie. Like, how many times do I have to say this? It’s Cordelia’s perception. It’s all fucked up, you guys. Shawn, since you’re the self-proclaimed romance expert”—this makes him laugh—“tell me. How do I convince her that I’m not stealing from Leslie Munch?”
“Oooh!” Terry raises his hand. “Write her a poem. Spill your talent out with your guts.”
“Nah,” Luke says. “You should just kidnap her and blow her mind on a Master Choke blindfold dream date. In fact”—he points at his laptop camera—“Shawn, give the Ro-Bro your dream date.”
“What?” Shawn guffaws. “No way. I’m not giving Steve my cool date ideas.”
“I don’t want your date night, Shawn,” I say. “I’m at the fucking convention, Luke. I can’t just illegally sweep her off her feet and make her miss the signing.”
“I got it,” Terry says. “Kidnap Leslie Munch and send her up in a hot air balloon instead.”
“Oh, my God. It’s not about Leslie!” Why do I even call these guys? They’re no help at all. “That’s just… dumb.”
Terry shrugs and looks away from the camera, a little dejected. “It’s a great idea.” Then he looks back, excited again. “Oh! You could send one of those skywriter people over the convention, take Cordelia outside, and point up. Make it say—”