‘He’s not wearing it. It’ll finish Jeffrey Archer off and that won’t help the property value,’ Mum said before taking herself off into the conservatory, still muttering away.
‘William, can I have a word?’ I leapt in front of the open front door and my brother before he could escape.
‘Have two, treat yourself,’ William replied, holding up one hand to Sanjit in the car. ‘What has got into Dad? Do you think he’s had a funny turn?’
‘There is nothing funny about that outfit. Jeffrey Archer nothing, if Dad drops his drawers in front of me, I won’t make it.’
‘Don’t panic, Mum will talk him out of it,’ he said with complete certainty that was, in fairness, well placed.
Mum almost always talked Dad out of his more random decisions including, but not limited to, his obsession with learning to ride a penny farthing, a moustache that made him look exactly like Joseph Stalin and that time he became obsessed with Channing Tatum and wanted to offer him a book deal to write the great American novel ‘he just knew he had inside him’. Not to say Magic Mike couldn’t pull it out the bag but the obsession was mostly based on the fact my dad watchedStep UpandShe’s the Manon a constant loop while recovering from back surgery and was on a lot of painkillers. Back surgery he needed because Mum failed to talk him out of the penny farthing well enough.
‘Never mind Dad,’ William said cheerfully. ‘I have tosay I’m very impressed at how you managed to take one great big fucking mess and make it even worse. Incredible work, well done.’
‘Thanks,’ I replied. ‘Wait, are you speaking as my agent or my brother?’
‘Agent. As your brother, I still can’t even conceive of you having writtenButterflies. Do you know how many times you used the word “cock” in that book?’
‘It was more than once.’
‘It was fourteen times.’ He slapped the back of one hand against the other palm as he spoke, emphasising each syllable. ‘Thank god you had the presence of mind to make the male character American. The thought of an English accent saying the things you put in that book gives me the ick. Ass, sexy. Arse, not sexy. In fact, what is a sexy British word for your backside? Bum? Buttocks? Trouser turnips?’
‘Can we concentrate for a minute?’ I asked. ‘There are more urgent matters to deal with.’
‘Like the fact our baby sister is one iced coffee away from telling the world Joe wrote your book?’
‘That’s one of them,’ I agreed gloomily. ‘We have terrible parents. Who stands there and watches their child blackmail another human being and does nothing?’
‘You tell me, you’re the teacher.’
Sanjit honked and William waved to signify we were almost done.
‘As your agent, as far as I can see, you’ve only two options,’ he said. ‘One, you tell everyone the truth which solves all our problems and makes mine and Mal’s lives considerably easier into the bargain.’
‘Mal.’ I groaned and slapped my hand over my face. ‘He’s going to lose his mind when he hears about this.’
‘Oh yes, he’s going to kill you,’ William confirmed as though it was a matter of fact. ‘Slowly and painfully if you decide on option number two.’
‘Which is?’
‘You and Mr Walsh come to an agreement in which he acts as the public face of Este Cox and you remain anonymous. I wouldn’t advise it but it’s been done before.’
I stared off into the middle distance, imagining it for a moment. Could it work? Joe was much happier in the spotlight than me. He could tour, do the interviews, paste his face all over social media, and I could keep my job and keep writing.
‘One thing to keep in mind, if you take that route,’ William said sternly, cutting into my daydream. ‘It would have to be a real business relationship. Contracts, financials, we’d have to NDA him up the wazoo.’
‘And that’s a legal term, is it?’ I asked.
‘What I’m saying is, it’s bullshit not to claim your own book,’ he replied. ‘And most importantly, unless you want to be sued to high heavens when it all goes tits up, you definitely won’t be able to shag Joe once we’ve got a contract in place.’
‘Shag Joe?’ I exclaimed loudly enough for the Bhattas to hear and set off a new flurry of activity in the car. ‘What makes you say that? I don’t want to shag Joe.’
‘Then you’re the only one,’ he said, switching gears with a frustrated sigh. ‘Come on, Soph, tell everyone the truth. All this stuff you’re panicking about, it’s all in your head. Even if it wasn’t, who fucking cares?’
‘But Mum and Dad—’ I started until he held up a hand to cut me off.
‘But Mum and Dad nothing,’ he replied. ‘That’s anexcuse and we both know it. As your agent, I’ll go along with whatever you decide but as your brother, I’m begging you, rip off the plaster, tell the truth. It’ll only get worse the longer you leave it. The clock is ticking. If you think it’s bad now, wait until Charlotte reveals it’s Joe, Mal loses his shit because your publisher didn’t control the announcement, and next thing you know everyone thinks a man wroteButterfliesandJoe’s onOprah.’
The image flashed in front of my eyes, the two of them bonding over freshly squeezed orange juice in her back garden in Montecito, a tear in Oprah’s eye as Joe detailed his inspiration for the tender love affair between Jenna and Eric.
