I don’t look back when I go through the door into the hallway, which is filled with many more doors. I rent an office space in an unsuspecting building in New York, not too far from my apartment. I don’t have any desire to rent out an office with doormen, plaques, and prestige that come along with everyone knowing where you are.
No one needs to know where I am.
Thirty minutes later, I return with a black coffee for myself and a brown sugar latte and cinnamon streusel muffin for Lily, and I know what I must do.
I sit down at my desk and type in the web address on the Post-it note. It pulls up a site calledThere’s More Between the Lines.I rollmy eyes. I groan as I create a username, hoping it will catch the attention of whoever this so-called fan is. Melanie just wants me to retrieve the contact information. That should be easy enough.
I search for the correct page on the site, and BarrettBeyondTheBadge’s writing is soon lit up and alive on my screen. I move my cursor over toward the button to message the writer, but my eyes snag on a comment. I move my mouse back to expand what I realize is over three thousand comments on the latest piece.
Threethousandcomments.
My computer screen is soon displaying comments that make the anger within me twist a bit deeper, like a knife plunged beneath my flesh.
HereForTheMakeOuts:“THIS is how Barrettshouldhave been written. I still love the original, but BarrettBeyondTheBadge…You get his voice so right it hurts.”
Fangirl4Barrett:“BarrettBeyondTheBadge is doing the Lord’s work. Barrett in the original series? Kinda flat. Barrett in this? Complex. Broody. HOT.”
SlowBurnObsessed:“I’m begging the real author to take notes from this fanfic. This version of Barrett is what we DESERVE!!!”
CryinInACoffeeShop:“THIS CHAPTER BROKE ME IN THE BEST WAY! The moment Barrett says, ‘I never learned how to be wanted’…I had to go scream into a pillow. BRB.”
PlotQueen23:“This > the actual series. This fanfic has more emotional depth than the last three books combined.”
I grip the edge of my desk, jaw tight.
“More emotional depth?” I mutter, scowling.
Another comment refreshes on the screen.
BarrettsBestie:“I wish the real author would step aside and let BarrettBeyondTheBadge ghostwrite the next book. We’d all be better for it.”
Better for it? IcreatedBarrett. And now some anonymous fan is being praised for rewriting my character like they know him better than I do?
Nope. Not today.
No one told me to play nice.
I scroll back over to the button to message the phony version of a writer, flexing my fingers before the words flow easily, like fresh inkpouring from a new pen.
Chapter 4
Rachel
“Rachel?”
I look up from my phone to see Mr. Williams and his infamous pout directed at me. Mr. Williams is my boss, and in the six years I’ve worked atThe New York Standard, I’ve never seen the man smile. He’s tall, has stringy gray hair, and if he wore a top hat and tails, he could pull off a fantastic Scrooge.
“Yes, Mr. Williams?” I give him my brightest smile.
“Did you finish the piece on the mayor’s wife? It was due this morning.” His voice is gruff, and I feel like he’d love to have a ruler in his hand to slap my knuckles at his disapproval.
“I finished it last night,” I reply, trying to keep the cheerfulness injected in my tone, even though the experience of writing the piece had been anything but cheerful.
I met Lisa Graham at her home, tucked away on a few acres behind steel gates and tall fences. She looked at me like I just came from the wrong side of town but reluctantly invited me into their library that felt more like it was about status than the stories the bookshelves held, which was unfortunate since they were tall, full, and even had a sliding ladder.
The room was stuffy. The curtains had curtains, and the couches weren’t the kind you could curl up on with a good book. She’dgloated about the thousands spent on the furniture that was hand stitched. Where I grew up, people showed pigs, goats, and cattle. But it seemed in posh city life you showed couches.
But beyond all the show of importance and intrigue, Lisa Graham had simply been boring. Which was unfortunate, since my job is to write human-interest pieces. The job is easier when the people I write about are actually interesting.
