The Write Stuff

The Write Stuff Page 13

"Pass. I don't need to see the shark before he snaps my hand off," I joked.

"You're afraid of sharks too?"

"Who isn't? Have you seen the movie Jaws?" I realized the list of phobias I was admitting to was quite extensive, and I hadn't even mentioned my fear of spiders, heights or roller coasters flying off their tracks. "How about you? I bet you're not scared of anything."

"Snakes."

"Snakes?"

"Yep, Indiana Jones had nothing on my fear of those slithering bastards. They should all die in the pits of hell."

I couldn't help laughing at the passion in his voice. It was cute.

"Ms. Blake," a voice called out from behind Alec. Instinctively, I looked around for my mom. Ms. Blake was so formal. It took a moment before it registered in my head that the voice was talking to me.

"Yes?" I answered, stepping away from the wall I had been slouching against.

"We're ready for you and your model," a woman said, blushing brightly when she nodded in Alec's direction.

"You need me too?" I asked.

She nodded. "We'd like the authors to introduce their models before each one is auctioned off."

"Like with a microphone?" I groaned as we followed her through a side door into the ballroom.

"Yes, ma'am," she answered respectfully, though she wasn't much older than me.

Alec leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Microphone phobia too?"

"Public speaking," I answered out of the side of my mouth.

He chuckled but didn't comment as his warm hand found the small of my back again.

We stepped onto a makeshift stage that had been set up on the far left side of the ballroom. With the paranormal theme of this year's event, the room was decorated top to bottom to resemble a dark and mysterious lair. Purple and magenta lights shining on the walls combined with the crystal chandeliers twinkling on the ceiling gave the illusion of movement as the music throbbed throughout the lair.

Alec let out a low whistle of admiration. "Swanky. This is something else." He turned to the girl who had fetched us and winked at her.

She beamed. Even under the dark purple lighting, I could see the bright red shade of her face. I couldn't blame her. Alec was intoxicating.

The assistant left us on the stage with the other models and authors. I edged closer to my friend Jennifer, and Tristan, the model she had used for some of her previous books and who also adorned the cover of her current release. Tristan was a veteran in the cover-modeling scene. Currently, he looked plain bored. His abs and pecs had graced more than a hundred romance novel covers. I knew from past conversations with Jennifer that he was hardcore. He maintained a daily regimen of exercise and buffed and waxed his entire body every single week. He also went to the tanning salon at least four times a week and was a dedicated vegan. His services came with a big price tag from what I understood, but readers loved him.

"Hey, Jennifer," I said, giving her a quick hug.

Tristan's bored expression disappeared the instant he took in Alec standing next to me. Watching the way he eyed Alec like he was a delectable treat made it clear what side his bread was buttered on. "Jennifer, this is Alec," I said, introducing them.

She shook Alec's hand, looking as nervous as I was. "Nice to meet you."

Tristan cleared his throat, waiting to be included in the introductions. "Oh, right," she said, shaking her head. "This is Tristan."

"Good to meet you." Alec gripped Tristan's hand firmly and patted him on the shoulder. Watching the almost giddy look on Tristan's face made me wonder if that was how I had looked the first time I saw Alec. I debated having a little fun with him, but I became distracted when a couple more people joined us on stage. Specifically, the author who would be my archenemy if I had one.

Samantha Tran and I started self-publishing at the same time and had naturally formed a friendship as we waded through the trenches together. She found greater success a little quicker than I had when her third book took off like a rocket. I was thrilled for her. It was encouraging to see someone I knew find a larger audience for their books. The way we had supported each other, it felt like a shared success. Somewhere between hitting a couple bestseller lists, Samantha decided our friendship was no longer necessary. Some of the personal thoughts we had shared with each other about our fears and insecurities had started being whispered back to me through social media. Of course, what she neglected to tell anyone was that some of the things she was giving me the embarrassing credit for saying had come from her mouth, not mine. The worst part was she did it all to fit in with a different crowd. Her crushing betrayal almost made me walk away from the business. It was like high school all over again, but so much worse. We were adults after all. Hell, we were supposed to be professional.

Eventually, Mom and Olivia stepped in to shake some sense into me. They basically told me to pull on my big girl panties and stop moping. Business was cutthroat sometimes, and all I could do was learn from the experience. Since then, my relationships in the industry became more guarded. I had developed plenty of friendships, but most were surface deep. Even those I trusted never got the full me. I saved it all for Olivia. If I needed to vent, bounce ideas or share exciting news, Olivia was my go-to person.

"Is something the matter?" Alec seemed to sense the tension that had slowly claimed my limbs.

I shook my head. I saw no reason to let him in on my troubles. It would do no good to stir the pot, and truthfully, deep down, I was embarrassed by the whole situation. Alec had already gotten a front row seat to the craziness I seemed to attract. There was no reason to include him in this drama too.

I pasted a fake smile on my face that felt heavy, but I bared the brunt of it. The lights around us began to swirl wildly as the big disco ball I had missed hanging in the ceiling began to spin. It reminded me of the times I used to go roller skating as a kid. The rink in our neighborhood was about thirty years past its heyday, but had remained a popular spot for birthday parties before kids hit middle school. After that it was no longer cool. I even had my ninth birthday party there. The thing I remembered most about that party to this day was the way my mom and dad skated around the rink together. I remember watching them and the way they had eyes for each other.

Maybe if I mapped my journey to becoming a romance writer, it had started that day. Even at nine years old, I knew I wanted to be a part of a love story that grand. A love that seemed to have no beginning and no end. It was perfect and I wanted it.

"Whoa, trippy. We should all get high and chill," Alec drawled in a flawless impression of Matthew McConaughey from the movie Dazed and Confused.

A startled giggle bubbled out of me, taking my tension with it. Matthew was one of my secret teenage crushes. I was thirteen when my brothers introduced me to the movie, and I was instantly hooked.

"Classic movie."

Jennifer looked at me strangely. By the look on her face, she wasn't familiar with the cult classic. "Dave? From Dazed and Confused?" I probably shouldn't have sounded so judgmental, but it was one of my favorites.

"All right, all right, all right," Alec chimed in again, deadpanning another line from the movie. I had to grab my side from laughing so hard. Evidently my mirth was contagious because even Jennifer couldn't help laughing with me. The only person who didn't seem to find any humor in the situation was Samantha Tran, who had been making an obvious attempt to ignore me since walking on stage. Judging by her annoyed expression, she probably believed she was the butt of our joke, but she didn't have the nerve to ask. The look on her face only made me laugh harder. Without thinking, I turned to Alec and buried my face in his chest. He embraced me in his arms, rubbing my back until I was able to regain my composure. We swayed back and forth like we had the first time we danced together. Suddenly, laughter was the furthest thing from my mind. I could have stayed in his embrace for hours.

I pulled away when I realized everyone else was no longer laughing. "Do my eyes deceive me, or are you blushing?" Jennifer crowed, peering closely at me as I wiped gleeful tears from my eyes. I shook my head minutely, dismissing the twinkle in her eye.

"I'm not surprised. Her face always turns fifty shades of red when she's excited," Alec said, winking at Jennifer. I reacted almost immediately, slapping him on the shoulder.

"OMG, now that one I got. Don't worry. My lips are sealed," she said, acting like she had locked the corner of her mouth.

I grabbed Alec's elbow, pulling him close to me. "Thanks a lot. Watch how fast the rumor of you and me together spreads on social media."

The moment was surreal. Not that I would have any problem with anyone believing Alec and I were together, if it were true, but gossip spread like wildfire and I wasn't comfortable with people talking about my personal life.

Alec's dark and smoky eyes bore into mine, reflecting the fire that raged from me. They saw past my insecurities, probing until they found the passion that swirled inside me like molten lava. Words were not necessary between us. His stare slowly seduced me, stripping away layer after layer until the raw core of my desire was exposed. My mouth dried, leaving a thirst that needed to be quenched, but not by any liquid. I thirsted for him. My tongue moistened my lips, hoping to give them some relief. Our faces moved closer. We could have been the only two souls in the room. Somewhere between a laughing fit and blushing over an assumed romance that hadn't happened yet had become the most intimate moment of my life.

"Pardon me," Samantha Tran interrupted, sliding her way between Alec and me like we were somehow blocking her way across the stage. "Hey, handsome. Where have you been hiding all my life?"

Chapter Twelve

"Well, excuse me, Sam," I said, knowing she preferred to be called Samantha. "What, the entire rest of the stage wasn't good enough to get your wide ass around on?" Ordinarily it wasn't in my nature to stand up for myself. I'd spent my life avoiding conflict, but she needed to die. I wasn't saying I was going to be the one to do it. I may or may not have known how to get away with murder, but there had to be tons of ways to make it look like an accident. Even if I did get caught, I was pretty sure a judge would side with me. Especially when I explained how Samantha had slithered her slimy, disgusting body between me and the man who was about to plant the greatest kiss of my life on my lips.

Gritting my teeth, I pivoted around to face Jennifer before I could follow through on my instincts to shove the microphone stand straight up Samantha's ass. "What a bitch," Jennifer whispered, shaking her head.

Alec placed his hands around my arms to help calm me down as the ballroom doors opened, allowing the party attendees to enter. Their excited chatter filled the room along with whistles and catcalls as they took in the tuxedo-clad models on stage. The rage I felt toward Samantha converted quickly to the nervousness I had been trying to tamp down earlier over speaking in front of a crowd. Michael Hinks, one of the event reps, made his way up the three shallow steps to the stage wearing a microphone headset.

"Ladies, ladies, are you EXCITED!" His voice boomed through the speakers, addressing the crowd. "Ah, I take that as a yes," he said, responding to the many screams and whistles. "Who here is ready to dance with the man of their dreams? To step into their favorite novel and become the heroine they've always wanted to be?" He paused, waiting for another eruption of excitement to subside. He knew how to play to the crowd. "Tonight you'll be able to say whether or not what happens under the cover—stays under the cover," he said, winking outrageously at the crowd. More yells and squeals followed his words as everyone crowded closer to the stage.

Excited giggles and appreciative sighs colored the faces of those standing close to the stage. The blinding spotlights made it impossible to see past the first row of people. The other authors and models attempted to shade their eyes, trying to see the crowd, but I welcomed the blindness. The inability to see everyone staring back at me would make my introduction smoother. At least that was what I was trying to convince myself.

As Michael continued to work the women up into a frenzy, I rehearsed my introduction in my head, focusing on each word individually. What I had prepared was short, but I didn't want to make a fool of myself, especially for about the tenth time in front of Alec. Just once I'd like to show him that I wasn't some blathering, stumbling idiot.

Michael turned his attention to the stage as the spotlight moved away from my face and zeroed in on author Trisha Scott and Adam, the first of three models she had brought with her who had graced the covers of her last series. Each book had sailed effortlessly into the number-one slot on the New York Times list. Trisha was a pillar in the business and the most successful author attending the event. She had been around long before any of us had even considered writing professionally. Her voice was coarse and her skin lined with wrinkles from a lifetime of smoking the menthol cigarettes she was so fond of. She refused to acknowledge the consensus that cigarettes were harmful to your health. A person would literally secondhand smoke a pack a day if they stood around her long enough. The best part of Trisha, though, was her flair for using the word fuck. She said it stemmed from a tough Brooklyn upbringing, and she never apologized for it, no matter who she may have offended. She was tough and scary as hell, but I so wanted to be her when I grew up.

The crowd responded to Trisha's introduction of her models with a roar of pleasure. It was hard to tell if their enthusiasm had to do with her man candy or her. I suspected it was a combination of both. Even I couldn't help feeling awestruck. Trisha's books had been the first romance novels I had ever read. I would huddle under my blankets with a flashlight, knowing Mom would have crapped a brick if she caught me. Trisha's books actually taught me more about the birds and the bees than I learned in school.

Michael introduced the next author, who was someone I didn't know. She looked as uncomfortable as I felt as she stumbled through the introduction of her cover model. I felt her pain. Samantha went next. I silently cursed her the entire time, wishing a hole would open up in the earth and swallow her whole.

Before Jennifer's turn, I urged her to drag out her introduction so I could get the sudden shaking in my hands and butterflies in my stomach under control.

Before I could mentally prepare myself any further, the microphone was thrust into my hand and the bright lights were pointed in my face. I gulped briefly, trying to dislodge the brick that had formed in my throat.

My introduction flew by in a blur, but judging by the crowd's reaction to Alec as he waved, I must have managed to get the words out.