Then again, maybe she should take this as a sign that it was time to move on and do something else with her life. She’d lived out her dream, managed to write more than forty books, and now, she had the chance to try something new. She could take a much-needed vacation, see the world, learn French, and do all those things that she’d been putting off. She could go back to school, become an assassin, perhaps a mercenary if the mood struck her.
The possibilities were endless.
Now, she just needed to let the readers know that her writing career was over, tell them all the secrets that she’d been keeping from them over the years, and wish them well through a thoughtfully worded post. They’d be mad and she couldn’t blame them, but they’d move on eventually and find an author who wasn’t a complete failure and she would…
Still be lying here, staring helplessly at the television, wondering why this was happening to her. Why did it have to be him? Kristen found herself wondering as she reached over with a sigh, grabbed the remote and started the movie over again, hoping beyond hope that-
“Have you left the couch since Monday?” came the question as what she was really hoping was a chocolate milk with a double shot of chocolate syrup was placed on the coffee table in front of her.
“More or less,” Kristen murmured as she reached over and grabbed the large cup off the coffee table, took a sip and released a satisfied sigh before placing the large cup of creamy chocolate milk back on the coffee table and went back to staring helplessly at the television.
“Weren’t you watchingThe Goonieswhen I left?” Amber asked as she placed a stack of mail next to the laptop.
“It soothes me,” Kristen said, biting back a sigh as she reached over and grabbed the stack of mail off the coffee table.
“I can see that,” Amber said as she took in the castle that Kristen made out of Twinkies to go with her tower, the new paint samples lining the wall, the boxes of Easter decorations that she’d managed to find in the attic before landing on the Lego set in the corner. “What is that supposed to be?”
“A pirate ship,” Kristen said, trying not to wince as she took in her first attempt at Legos and found herself wondering why it didn’t look anything like the image on the box.
“It looks like a rock.”
“I, umm, may have had problems with the directions,” Kristen mumbled as she thought about the soul-crushing instructions that nearly destroyed her will to live.
“Like following them?” Amber asked, throwing her a curious look before she took in the stack of cookbooks taking up half the coffee table right around the time that Kristen decided that she should probably see what was in the mail before Amber noticed the mangled yarn that she bought with hopes of making a-
“Did…Did you crochet a dog leash?” came the question that had her struggling to bite back a wince.
“It was supposed to be a sweater,” Kristen said as she sorted through her mail only to swallow hard when she came across the familiar handwriting that had her stomach dropping.
For the past year, she’d been receiving angry letters from a reader determined to make sure that Kristen knew exactly howshe felt about her last book, which wasn’t exactly helping with her writer’s block. Each letter was somehow worse than the last, alternating between trashing her last book and ensuring that she knew how much everyone hated her, how bad her writing was, and the only reason why anyone read her books was because they had nothing better to do.
That was followed by demanding to know where the next book was, why it was taking her so long, and letting Kristen know that she wasn’t an author, but even she could have written at least five books by now. That was always followed by a threat to stop reading her books if she didn’t get the next book out immediately along with several new one-star reviews, all recycled versions of the first and she had no idea who was sending them. They never signed the letters or put a return address on the envelopes, but they were always addressed to her in the same dark red ink.
She used to read them, but now, she tossed them in the trash to salvage what was left of her sanity. With that in mind, Kristen bit back a sigh as she sat up, reached over the armrest and promptly dropped it in the trash. She watched as Amber followed the move with a frown only to curse as she reached over and grabbed the card out of the trash.
“I can’t believe I missed that. I’m sorry,” Amber said, shaking her head in disgust as she shoved the card back in her bag.
“It’s fine,” Kristan said, shrugging it off as she tossed the rest of her mail back on the coffee table only to watch Amber’s gaze turn pitying when it landed on her computer. “Still?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Kristen mumbled sadly as she watched Chunk do the truffle shuffle while she debated her options, get another Lego set or look into mercenary training.
“Is your phone still acting up?” Amber asked, and as much as she would love to blame the annoying bastard that tossed her phone off a roof, she couldn’t. Her phone had been acting up forthe past year, alternating between resetting itself and needing to be charged after only a few hours.
“I need to get it replaced again,” Kristen muttered sadly, mentally adding it to her to-do list, knowing that she would probably keep using that phone until it died to avoid having to make a trip to the mall.
“Anything?” Amber asked after a slight hesitation, drawing Kristen’s attention to find her looking pointedly at the cellphone in question, reminding her of the other reason she hated Garrett.
They never called back.
“No,” Kristen mumbled, still wondering why they didn’t at least leave a message. She’d tried calling back only to be sent directly to voicemail, letting her know everything that she needed to know.
They weren’t interested.
“What’s the plan?” Amber asked even though they both knew the answer.
“Move on,” Kristen said, shrugging it off like it didn’t matter even as she couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to do now. She hadn’t published anything in over a year, her sanity was slowly being destroyed by writer’s block, and she wasn’t sure what she was going to do now if she couldn’t find a publisher willing to take over her paperback sales.
“Are we still not talking about that other thing?” Amber asked, thankfully changing the subject as she reached over and helped herself to a Twinkie, effectively destroying the castle that Kristen built last night.
