Finding Peace by Baker B. E

Author:Baker, B. E.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Purple Puppy Publishing
Published: 2020-12-16T00:00:00+00:00

12

Anica

The next morning, I go ahead and sign the stupid one-project agency agreement so that Henri can send my proposal to Avon. I’m disappointed, sure, but after a good night’s sleep, I’m not depressed. I’m really no worse off than I was before.

Except I may get a decent chunk of money for something I’m enjoying writing.

It won’t be much compared to the advances on my last three books, but at least there’s no stress over whether it’ll sell through. If it doesn’t sell well, too bad. That’s on Avon. It’s sort of like writing ad copy, or like, the text that goes on a website. I just write it, and then they buy the words, and I’m done. No pass pages, no arguing with an editor, none of the miserable stuff. No royalty checks, but . . . even so.

Easy peasy.

Who cares if Patrick McCleve is flying high with his literary thrillers while I’m writing books that will be put out in someone else’s name? Not me.

I shower and get ready for work—lunch shift all week—and I can’t help wondering whether I’ll see Ethan. Maybe he’ll stop by for a burger. When I climb in my car, I decide to stop being coy. I’m the one who bailed on our plans yesterday, so I may as well be the one to reach out today.

LUNCH SHIFT ALL WEEK FOR ME. YOU?

He doesn’t reply right away, which is a bummer, but I’m not going to be late for work because I sat around staring at my phone for too long. When I reach Golden Gloves and he still hasn’t replied, I’m annoyed. Sometimes I wonder whether texting embodies everything that’s wrong with the world. No one calls anymore. No one works out any details, and why? Because, no worries! I’ll text it all to you. Or, I won’t, and you’ll be left dangling indefinitely.

Gah.

I’m wiping off my last table in preparation to leave when my phone starts to buzz in my pocket. It’s Ethan.

“Hey,” I say.

“You at work?”

I scan the parking lot for an ostentatious blue Porsche, thankful for the wall of windows, but nothing. “I’m just finishing up.”

He groans. “I’m stuck here until late today. We’ve hit a bump.”

“Uh oh,” I say. “That sounds ominous.”

“Ominous? Remind me never to play Scrabble with you.”

“They never play that on Fridays unless a bunch of people are gone. There are too many people to play most nights.”

“You immediately think of game night, huh? Does that mean I’m invited again?” he asks.

I laugh. “I don’t even know whether I’m invited. I’m just staying in the house right now, so they feel obligated to make me welcome.”

“Well, if we slide in for a few more weeks, they’ll probably forget we weren’t ever officially invited.”

We. His casual use of the word ‘we’ sends a little thrill up my spine. “Not a bad plan. But have you considered that they might not be cool enough for us?”

“Uh, yeah, and that’s a fair point. Clearly they aren’t, but sometimes you have to do things for the little people.

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