Page 5 of One Last Thing
‘Fuck knows what he was saying, Dawn,’ Brandon says tiredly, pinching the top of his nose. ‘He was wearing socks that said, “Go Bananas” on them.’
‘What has that got to do with anything?’
‘I’m just saying . . . He’s not . . .’ He sighs, putting his hands on his hips. ‘Your career hasn’t shattered, Dawn. We will publish you elsewhere.’
‘I don’t have anything to publish,’ I mutter childishly.
‘Not yet. The next one will be a hit, your big comeback.’
My best and oldest friend Jemma once asked me if I’d ever consider writing anything aside from romance.I remember being surprised at the question. I knew she’d devoured all of my books, and my instinctive reaction was to be insulted, as though she was saying Ishouldconsider doing so. But she explained she was only curious and pointed out that writers often write different genres under different names, and she only wondered if I’d thought about it. I told her that as much as I respected other types of fiction, I only ever wanted to write contemporary and whimsical romantic fiction. It’s part of who I am. So I thought.
I close my eyes. ‘Brandon, you know I can’t write other genres. And now I’ve been told that I can’t write romance either.’
‘By someone who cares about numbers, not books.’
‘He’s an editor.’
‘He’s inexperienced and naïve,’ Brandon maintains. ‘He doesn’t have a clue.’
I shrug, lifting the cigarette to my lips and inhaling. ‘He was right about the latest manuscript though, wasn’t he. It was the “same old story”. Nothing new, nothing left to give. Just like its author.’
‘Dawn, don’t do this to yourself. You’ve taken a hit, but this doesn’t mean—’
‘What didyouthink of the book?’ I cut in boldly. ‘Tell me straight. I’ve had enough bullshit today and I’ll see right through it.’
‘Fine.’ He scuffs his shoe on the pavement. ‘I thought it had potential. If you were a debut, I wouldn’t have offered to represent you on that manuscript, but I would have worked on it with you. The writing is lyrical, moving, truthful. But the story was the problem.’
‘It was missing something,’ I mutter.
‘Yes, it was. I’m not sure what.’
‘Hm.’
‘You don’t seem surprised at my analysis.’
‘You weren’t the only one who read it. You know, Brandon, I’m not convinced my comeback is ever coming. Maybe I gracefully bow out now. Let theHeartlodgeseries be my ultimate legacy. So what if it was three decades or so ago? Let that be what I’m remembered for and not the stories that followed.’
‘Some of the stories that followed were very good!’ he argues.
‘None of them had the same commercial success.’
‘That doesn’t mean they’re to be forgotten.’
I smile warmly at him. ‘Spoken like a true reader. I’m glad you were there whenHeartlodgecame out. I’m glad you witnessed my career at its best.’
‘You’re upset. I don’t want you to worry about this. Go home, take some time for yourself, and we’ll talk about it tomorrow. We’ll come up with a plan.’
‘I can’t,’ I tell him, taking one last drag. ‘I’m going on holiday.’
‘When?’
‘Today. I’m going home now to get my things and then on to the airport.’
‘This is good,’ he says, looking satisfied, as though he’d had the idea himself.
‘Is it?’
‘Yes! When was the last time you went away?’ He gives me a pointed look. ‘You can go and clear your head. Relax and return feeling refreshed.’
