“It’s historical fiction, a Victorian murder mystery about a lesbian detective,” she added.
“You are a Victorianist, and the novel was quite the thing back then,” he said supportively. “And your work is on lesbians in theVictorian era. I feel that I am missing some key detail here, Toni, to explain whatever is prompting the distress in your voice.”
She sighed. She had been wrestling with this since she’d said yes to the offer. After more talking to her cat than any rational soul ought to admit, she had figured it out. “If it fails, I’d rather not have an audience. If it succeeds, I’d rather not have derision for writing popular fiction. I want to be regarded as a serious academic, especially as I am junior faculty still.”
Harold plucked the T-Rex out of his mug, set it on a tray, and pronounced, “I am not in the habit of sharing anyone’s personal business, Toni, but I hope you change your mind. I didn’t hire the sort of professor who would write a book that failed. You had your choice of colleges offering you a job. I am well aware of your talent—”
“At lecturing and research,” she interjected.
Harold shrugged. “I read your dissertation, and I have read a number of your articles. I think you’ll find that I am often quite right about a very large number of things, so why don’t we agree that if your book doeswell,I will receive a signed copy of it to display proudly… and possibly crow about to the lit department, hmm?”
Toni blinked at him.Where was the stuffy academic dismissal? The disdain?She’d braced herself for that, and instead he was looking at her like he’d just double dared her to do something. “Oh.”
He chuckled again, sipped his tea, and said, “Tell me more about this book of yours.”
Chapter 11Toni
ONE YEAR LATER
By the time Toni landed at LAX after the last of several tour dates, the battery on her phone was long since dead, and her charging cable was apparently in checked luggage or forgotten in a hotel. She grumbled that she couldn’t email Addie earlier as she’d planned.
A year later, they still emailed a few times a week, and Addie had become a sort of haven in Toni’s life, a slice of normality, a person who thought of her solely as a professor and a woman. That was why Toni still hadn’t told her about the book. They’d shared a lot—things they read or watched, or thoughts on new albums. They talked about dream trips and favorite meals. Addie’s was “somewhere beachy” and “dessert before dinner.” Toni’s were a bit less exciting—hiking spots and a good steak with even better whisky.
Those conversations had become a lifeline. Toni wasn’t unhappy with her dual careers, but she was often overwhelmed and felt like a fraud at the best of times.
And tired. Lord, she was tired.The Whitechapel Widowhad not only sold, but it had soldreallywell. Her colleagues at the university were mostly in the dark. Harold had respected her privacy, and Toni wasn’t sure what exactly to say to anyone about her second career.
I think it’s a fluke.
I’m not able to meet my deadline for the second book.
Right now, the whole author side of her life was surreal. Toniworked, went to the grocery, and lived a normal life. Then she went to events, where it was as if she were a different person. She traveled from airport to posh hotel to event in sleek black cars; she attended events where fans gushed and asked her to sign her name. It felt like living two lives.
And being an imposter in both.
And then there was Addie. She was the closest Toni had come to a relationship, but Toni still kept a giant part of her life hidden.So much for not being in any closets,Toni derided herself. She hid her author life from Addie and from her colleagues, aside from stray conversations with Harold. She didn’t talk about her academic life with the publishing. Everything was neatly compartmentalized.
A year after finishing her PhD, Toni now had a normal professorial week, and then a lot of weekend events where she was “moonlighting” as an author. That’s what it felt like, a rather Prufrockian state where Toni would lament that she had measured her life in coffee spoons, or she would if anyone knew what the hell she was talking about. Commercial publishing wasn’t high on the classic literary references. Sometimes, she almost wished there were someone in her life to talk to over a cup of coffee or glass of whisky. Someone other than her department head, her agent, and her mother, who only retained about a third of what Toni shared on the best days. Someone who was a lot like Addie in those vague fantasies.
Icouldtell her. We’re definitely friends now.
And Addie tells me everything.
The reality of juggling two careers was that Toni was bone tired. But the tour had ended, and hopefully after today’s meeting, life would be calmer. The producer for the adaptation of the book was excited, and Emily insisted that Toni just had to show up and be cheerful.
Maybe LA would offer a chance for a harmless hookup. Tour certainly hadn’t. Reasonable people didn’t fuck their fans, and weird as it was to think about most of the time, Toni had fans now. She categorized them the same as students: untouchable.
It’s a damn drought.Toni’s thoughts drifted again to the lastwoman she’d touched.Addie.A stranger in a bar. A beautiful woman who knew Toni before she was an author. Not a student. Not someone who learned of Toni’s existence on the front of a book jacket.
A few times, alone at night, Toni considered inviting Addie to meet up somewhere, but honestly, what would she say? “So I failed to mention that I sold a book for a ridiculous amount of money. I have the cash to send you a ticket to come see me. Interested?” Considering the fact that Toni had hidden the book deal for ayear,she sincerely doubted Addie would even keep talking to her if she knew.
Plus, emailing a proposition?
The thought of sending an email meant trusting that sweet Adelaine wasn’t going to post it online when she found out Toni had more or less lied. Toni’s career—either career, actually—wasn’t secure enough to withstand that. No, for now, Toni’s only recourse was to handle her own self-care and hope there was someone she’d meet who was not at a book event, a studio meeting, or affiliated with her own college.
No sex with students or fans.The mere thought of that was a turnoff.Talk about unhealthy power dynamics!
Toni grabbed her carry-on and made her way to the baggage carousel, where Emily was waiting. Her best friend now had a long list of clients vying for attention, but she was still regularly present when Toni needed her.
