Chapter Nine

“Don’t hate me.”

I pull the phone away from my ear to check the screen. Yup, I saw it right. It’s Brianna. Eyebrows scrunched, I return to the call I answered less than 30 seconds ago, still confused.

“Why would I hate you?”

“Because I did something that might make you mad. And I hate when people are mad at me because I’m afraid they’ll never speak to me again. The fear of rejection never gets easier.”

“You’re the world’s biggest pop star. No one is rejecting you.”

“Ha! You’d be surprised.”

Shaking my head doesn’t help clear my confusion. “Okay. So if I promise I won’t hate you, will you tell me what you did? I’m sure I won’t be mad.”

Brianna sighs deeply. I hear a scuff of fabric followed by a light creak, suggesting she may have sat down.

“Let me start by saying I only want the best for you.”

“Oh my god, are you sending me away to boarding school?”

We both giggle at my silly joke, but honestly she’s starting to scare me rather than make me mad.

“Anyway, I truly, absolutely, love your book. I devoured every word the second you sent them. I was invested, feeling all the feels and sitting on the edge of my seat. Work like that shouldn’t be hidden or fussed over and forgotten.”

“Okay, that’s sweet. Thanks for the encouragement. Still not mad.”

But my heart is racing at her praise. And at the sixth sense that more is coming I won’t find so sweet.

“So do you remember last year when Zack and I were hiding out in Silver Valley at his family ranch?”

“Yeah.” Foreboding hits me hard. Where is she going with this?

“Well, I never told anyone about it because I turned it down, but I was contacted by a publisher who wanted me to write some kind of memoir or behind the scenes about my rise to fame. They had a ghost writer lined up and everything.”

My mouth dries up immediately. “Okay.”

“I may have kept their contact information.”

My eyes slam shut. “Of course.”

“And I might have reached out to tell them about this brand new author they needed to know about.”

“Uh huh.” My stomach jolts.

“And they asked me to send them the manuscript.”

“So are you asking me if that’s okay?” Now my hands are shaking so hard I can barely keep the phone up to my ear.

“Nooooo.” Brianna drags out the vowel sound hesitantly. “I already sent it. I’m calling to tell you the publisher really loves it.”

“What?” Instant sweat beads on my forehead. I wobble over to my bed and lay down, needing more support than a worthless chair.

“But they don’t want to take a chance this big on an unknown.”

“What?” My eyes pop open, staring at the ceiling and scolding myself for getting my hopes up. “What kind of prank is this? Why even bother telling me if they don’t want to publish it.”

“They want you to publish it. Build a following.”

“Oh, okay. That’s easy. I’ll just snap my fingers and become an influencer.” I roll my eyes because what’s the point?

“Take a deep breath and listen. Please.”

I do as she says and inhale deeply, holding the air in my lungs for a count of four before slowly releasing it.

“Better?” she asks when I’m done. “Are you ready to hear me out?”

I nod as I whisper my agreement.

“Go ahead.”

“Good. My contact, Rebecca, sent me a list of what to do, including formatting tips, marketing ideas and indie cover designers she thinks will be good.”

My heart racing, I tell her to keep going.

“It’s not a big investment to self-publish. But Rebecca wants you to get your book out there and see what kind of buzz we can build. The new trend is for publishers to pick up an indie author or series that’s doing well and republishing it traditionally.”

“But, I don’t have any money. I’m literally saving every penny so I can get my ass out of this town.” As soon as the words leave my lips I slap a hand over my mouth. I know Brianna is safe to tell these things to, but I can’t risk my parents overhearing me say it out loud. They won’t understand. Still on my bed, I slide under the covers needing the comfort of my blankets surrounding me.

“I’m your biggest fan, therefore I’m investing in this venture. Your book needs to get out in the world. Rebecca even sent me the names of some freelance editors you can use. I’ll cover everything for now.”

“I can’t let you do this.” My heart races even faster than before at her insistence. Which can’t be healthy.

“You aren’t ‘letting me’. I’m just doing it because it’s something that should be done. Hiding your talent would be tragic.”

“I doubt that.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. And if you’re trying to get out of Silver Valley, I want to help you with that, too.”

I groan. “Stop teasing me.” Pulling the covers over my head, I scrunch myself down in a vain attempt to hide from the temptation of my dreams becoming reality. No one tells you how terrifying that is!

“I’m not teasing. You have a business degree. You shouldn’t be working in a feed and grain warehouse doing manual labor.”

“I don’t have many choices out here. Jobs are few and far between unless you’re working a ranch.” And I refuse to get locked into ranch life. As Zack quotes from his favorite Star Wars movie, "It’s a trap."

A loud knock rattles my bedroom door startling me out from under my covers wide-eyed and gasping.

“Who is it?”

“Your dad. Ross stopped by to see you. I told him you were indisposed. But he left something for you.”

I groan. Of course he showed up now. “Bree, can you hang on a second?” I ask into the phone.

“Yes, but put up your forcefields. Don’t let the dark side win.”

“I’ll try.”

Holding my phone to my chest–because having Brianna on the phone in my corner is the closest thing to a force-field I have–I pad to the door and open it up. Dad stands on the other side in his dusty work duds and boots. He’s holding his hat in one hand, a true Stetson I’ve always loved on him, and a bouquet in the other. A dozen blood red roses.

“Apparently Ross is trying to grovel,” Dad says holding up the flowers.

“Are you getting the stalker vibes from this like I am?” I glare at the creepy offering Ross left me. Something about the color has an unhinged and psychotic feel, but I did just write a suspense novel where the killer leaves this exact color rose petals everywhere he strikes. I want nothing to do with them, regardless of intent. Especially because of the giver.

“He spent a pretty penny on these, hon. Maybe you should put them in water.”

“Dad. We aren’t getting back together. No matter what crazy thing Ross does to try buttering me up. I’ve already been burned. Butter won’t help. Can you dispose of them for me?”

My dad looks down at the roses. “I guess. But I can’t toss ‘em here. Your mother will let me have it if I throw out perfectly good flowers.”

“‘Good’ is a relative term.”

“I suppose. I know he tried talking to you at the picnic. Pretty much everyone is talking about how you left him the second he sat down.”

“Not you, too, Dad. Can everyone just butt out of my business?”

“Now, I’m not butting in, but people tend to talk. I support you if you don’t think he’s the one, but the town is not one to let things go. They do love their tales.”

“Not only is Ross not the one, he’s the one to run away from, kicking and screaming.” I point to exhibit A, practically dripping blood from the deep red color. Again, I feel the threads of my story intertwining with my reality. I know I’m exaggerating, but the coincidence is…jarring.

“Well, hon, this town will make their feelings known. Gather some thick skin because some of the “know-better-than-you” biddies will be giving you an earful.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Not that I needed it. I’ve already gotten more than an earful from them. I’d like to think I’m immune.

But I know I’m lying to myself.

I close my door and slide back under the protection of my blanket and blue floral sheets before attending to the woman waiting for me on the other end of the phone.

“I’m back.”

“You need to get out of there,” Brianna says without mincing words. “It’s bad for your health. If I can help you find a job, will you consider coming out here? I even know the perfect little place you can move right into, if you’re ready.”

“But, I don’t have a deposit. First and last month’s rent. An up-to-date resume. Nothing is prepared.”

“You’ve got time. It might take a month or two to get everything situated. Then you’ll have a fresh start and a new perspective. You can focus on banging out a fantastic book and starting on the next one.”

“But…” the words die on my tongue. How do I say no to that? I feel like I should, but the possibilities she’s offering have me feeling a new type of way. Hopeful. Excited. Brave.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have it all worked out for you.” She reassures me.

With one more deep, cleansing breath, I say what my brain says I shouldn’t but my heart says I should.

“Okay. Let’s try it.”

Brianna squeals. “Yes! I need another girl in my squad and I’ve been dying for it to be you.”

I laugh. “Was I not in it before?”

“You were, but from a distance. And you know me. I prefer close proximity.”

“That’s my favorite trope.” I sigh. “So much can happen when there’s nowhere to turn but towards each other.”

“Oh, my, gosh, that is the perfect tag for your book!”

“But it’s not a romance. I need something that hits toward the suspense.”

“It’s workable. Anyway, you need to send me your job wishlist and I’ll see if I can find you a match.”

I groan. “That sounds way too close to a dating app.”

“No, honey. I’m much more accurate than an app. I have connections, remember?”

“Okay. Against my better judgement, I’ll let you find me a job. But I’ll look online, too. See what’s out there.”

Two days later, I’ve got more decisions on my plate than I know what to do with.

“I got one!” Brianna cheers through the phone speaker.

“A fish?” I joke, attempting to minimize the anxiety her announcement’s caused me. I’m stressed enough with Ross sniffing around all the time. Not only did he leave those roses with my dad in a ridiculous attempt to soften me up, he’s had lunch sent to me at work, dropped a note under the wiper of my car and spread a rumor around town that he’s planning to put a ring on it soon.

What the hell is wrong with this guy? His entitlement has rotted out his brain because there’s not even a snowball's chance in hell I’ll ever give him an opening ever again. If he pulls any more moves like showing up at the airport, I’d insist on walking. I’d request a police escort, but I fear he’s got them eating out of the palm of his hand like the rest of the town. 

“No, silly. A job!" Brianna says, cutting into my intrusive thoughts. "I’m working with several new up and coming musicians through my indie music label and all of them could use business management services. My team is overloaded with our own needs since launching my label, releasing my first album independent of my old label, and now the tour…We kick it off at Salt Creek resort in less than a month. So, you are very needed because my team is slammed.”

“Wow, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say, yes! It’s all remote work. Other than meeting with the artists once in a while, you’ll be crunching numbers and spreadsheets at home, which will give you time to work on publishing that banger you wrote without a daily commute.”

“My commute is only ten minutes as it is.”

“Well, now it’s zero!” Brianna sounds way more excited than I feel. Part of me recognizes the wide open door of opportunity she’s given me, but an even bigger part is scared of failure to the point I’m only coming up with excuses.

“I don’t even have a place to live, yet. And I doubt I could afford anything in a decent neighborhood anyway.”

“Drumroll, please,” Brianna says before rolling her r’s in a mock drumroll. “I found that, too!”

Slapping my forehead, I realize I’m cooked. She’s laying my future out on a silver platter. Everything I’ve dreamed of since taking my first trip out there a few months ago.

And I’m scared to take it.

“I promise it’s in a good area. And you’ll be absolutely safe out here because, guess what?”

“What?” I ask in a groan.

“You’ll be neighbors with Clinton!” The “tada” in her voice is evident at the reveal. But her announcement only serves to ratchet up my stress.

Because here’s the close proximity I love so much. And yet another dream could become reality; the hot dreams I’m still having about the man.

“Um…” I don’t say anything more out of fear of confessing too much truth. I’m not ready to come clean.

“Rent is reasonable. Clinton will send you all the info so you can get it signed and sent back. Then we’ll get you all moved in! I’m so excited to have you close. Although I’m leaving on tour too soon to enjoy it right away. And Clinton will be with us, so you won’t bump into him much for a while.”

“Wait. Why is Clinton sending me rental information?”

“Oh. Because he owns the duplex. You’ll be renting one side from him and he’ll live in the other.”

“He’s the landlord?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but yes.”

So much for hot dreams about him. I can’t date my landlord. That wouldn’t be appropriate. Clinton’s too growly anyway. We’d be a terrible match. 

“I guess he’s getting a neighbor, and you’re getting a new member of your local squad.”

Brianna squeals so loud I pull the phone away from my ear. Then I glance around my room, realizing I’ll have to start packing and organizing in secret. I’ll be keeping these plans to myself. My parents will share their opinions. And it wouldn’t be long before everyone in town joins the party.

And the last thing I need right now is Ross stepping up his campaign to win me back if he finds out there’s an expiration date on his chance. Not that he has one, but he's clearly missed the memo.

No. I’m glad Brianna pushed this for me. Because I’m ready to shed the small town drama and make my dreams come true.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-zxDs3HL3M