“Thanks.” Piper leads the way between middle grade chapter books and manga to a door on the far wall. It’s next to the storeroom where Ravi let me catch my breath before the signing the other night. The office is small and features a mustard-yellow sofa. Besides the chair at the desk, there is nowhere else to sit, so I make my way to the sofa and sit on one end.
“So your employees don’t get along?” As soon as the question leaves my mouth, I regret it. I’m not usually a gossip, but so far, I really like Ravi and Natalie. They both seem so pleasant. The kind of people I could sit and chat books with for hours.
She tosses me a look. “They got along excellently until a few weeks ago. He broke things off, and now we all get to feel her wrath when they’re in the same room. I don’t usually schedule them at the same time, but they’re my only employees aside from my accountant, and sometimes I need more hands on deck.”
“If it helps, I had no idea.”
She considers this. “From a business standpoint, it does. Thanks.”
Piper immediately moves toward her desk. No surprise there, but I’m not going to lie. I’m disappointed. Although, given the size of this couch, we’d be all up in each other’s business if she sat with me. It’s surprisingly soft and matches some of the art on the walls. I remember her cat PJs having yellow on them too, and against my conscious mind, I remember the backpack she lugged around in school. Same color as this couch.
Yellow’s a happy color. Mustard yellow is like the vintage version. It’s very Piper. I kind of want to bathe in it.
Not mustard. Just the color.
She opens the top drawer as she sits and slides a few things into it, closing it with a smooth motion. Her cheeks pink again. Hiding something? She turns on her computer and starts clicking around. “If you give me your email address, I’ll send you the outline we came up with.”
I rattle off my address as she types it into her computer. Her pert nose wrinkles as she looks for the file, and she chews on her lip. I need to get the conversation moving now, or I’m in danger of giving myself away.
“Have you heard back from Hannah yet?” I ask. Part of me is hoping she has, just so I’m off the hook, but the larger portion of me is crossing everything that she hasn’t—that my time with Piper won’t be cut short.
Piper looks sharply at me. “No.”
Well, that’s a loaded look. I pull up my email on my phone and find her outline. “How new are these writers?”
“We billed the classes as craft-focused for beginners.”
“Great. So stick to the basics.” I click off my phone and lean back on the sofa, inhaling the soft amber scent that infuses her entire bookstore, but is strongest in here. Basics. I can do that. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I originally thought. “I’ve just got one question for you, then.”
“Yeah?” She folds her arms protectively over her chest. “Shoot.”
“Are you writing anymore?”
six
piper
My chair almost goes over.I catch it in time, my palms slapping my desk to stabilize myself, but it nearly sends me to the floor. I definitely haven’t mopped recently enough for that to be okay. Am I writing?
“Going straight for the jugular, Dorian?”
He sits up. “I didn’t mean?—”
“One of the country’s most popular thriller authors is asking if Ievenput pen to paper anymore? Ouch.” I’m being prosy, stretching it out, but mostly just stalling for time. Yes, I write. I put out more books each year than he does. But I don’t have anywhere near his level of fame.
And apparently my books end tooconveniently.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He dips his head, looking up at me through his lashes, which makes my stomach dip. “You have so much talent. I’ve kept an eye out for your name, but I’ve never seen it.”
“I’ve never seen yours either,” I quip.
Dorian’s eyebrows shoot up. That was the wrong thing to say. It was too close to revealing the truth.
Maybe because you want him to know the truth?
Okay, shut up, inner voice that sounds like a taunting Aubrey Plaza. I’ve been watching too manyParks and Recreruns.
No one can know the truth. Least of all him. It’s too embarrassing. My first-ever novel is basically cathartic therapy for the way he treated me in college and very clearly gives him a gruesome death. My second novel takes place in an apartment building where he’s essentially the love interest who turns out to be a psycho murderer. But there’s some major romance before he tries to kill her and, again, suffers a gruesome death.
