UnWritten Page 5

  Gran made a strangled noise and I knew I’d gone too far.

  “I should probably be going. I have, um, some laundry to do.” It was a terrible excuse, but I couldn’t tell her that I had smut to write.

  I rose from the table as she’d taught me and went to kiss her proffered cheek.

  “It was nice to see you, dear. Come and see me next week.”

  “Yes, Gran.”

  She reached up and held my chin. That woman had a grip like Chuck Norris.

  “Behave. And don’t turn down a decent man who asks you on a date. And don’t make sassy comments. You’re a lady. Act like one.” She patted my cheek and gave me a sweet smile.

  “Yes, Gran,” I repeated and gave her another kiss on her cheek, and a quick hug. Her shoulders were frail, but she still had perfect posture.

  I glanced back at her as I walked through the house to the front door. We always took our Sunday afternoon tea in the sun room. She sat in her chair, staring out at the view of her garden, where birds and butterflies flitted about and a squirrel tried to infiltrate the birdfeeder. Gran lived alone, but I never got the sense that she was lonely. After all, she’d been married to my grandfather since she was sixteen years old. It might be nice to have some peace and quiet at this time in her life.

  Closing the door softly behind me, I chastised myself for snarking at her. She’d had her values for much longer than I’d been alive and she sure as hell wasn’t going to change them now just because I wanted her to.

  I stripped off my cardigan as soon as I got in the car. I’d left the windows up and the interior was stifling. I checked my phone and found two missed texts from Raine. I always left my phone in my car when I visited Gran, out of respect.

  Is there a better word for thrust? was the first message. The second was completely unrelated.

  Why can’t I ever learn the difference between lay and lie?

  Shaking my head, I set my phone down and turned my car on to head home.

  “We suck. We’re terrible. Why did we ever decide that we could write books?” Raine moaned. We’d gotten to the point in our process where we doubted whether we could complete a book at all. Otherwise known as Panic Mode. We usually took turns freaking out until we somehow got through it and eventually finished the book. But it was looking pretty grim right now.

  “Dixon is being such an asshole right now,” I said, referencing our male love interest. It had been Raine’s turn to name the hero, and she loved The Walking Dead, so that was what we ended up with.

  “What’s he doing?” Raine asked.

  “He’s not talking to me.”

  “Grab him by the nuts and twist.” I glared at her over my laptop. To us, our characters were real, living, breathing people that sometimes didn’t cooperate. There was a famous quote that being a write was an acceptable form of schizophrenia. It was absolutely true. The voices never stopped, except when they were being jerks.

  “Well, have them start making out.” Our solution to plot problems was usually to have the two characters kiss, to kill someone, or to blow something up. None of those were going to work for this scene.

  Our girl, Sylvia, wasn’t being much better.

  Rubbing my eyes, I sat back in my chair.

  “I think we need to take another break. Get out and do something,” I said.

  Raine rubbed her eyes as well and stood up to stretch.

  “Angie called me the other day asking if we wanted to do dinner or something.” I stood up and my knees buckled for a moment before I was able to stand. Yeah, sitting all the time was definitely going to kill me.

  “Who’s Angie?” I said.

  “Angie, our friend from college that we only see when we’re not on deadline? Tall, photographer? Ring any bells?” I gave her a look. Of course I remembered. I was just messing with her. Since we started writing, our social life had shrunk. We rarely had time to go out and socialize, and many of our friends had just stopped calling. But Angie was a hardcore friend and hadn’t abandoned us. Yet. She was also one of the only people who knew about our secret career and respected our writing time.

  “Yeah, it would be good to see her. Do something normal. God, I could use a drink so bad right now.” My mouth watered at the thought of a lemon drop martini from our favorite local drinking establishment.

  “Me too. And maybe while we’re out, we’ll get inspired. You know what they say about writing drunk and editing sober. We should definitely test that theory.” Raine messaged Angie back and before I knew it, I was putting on a pair of my favorite jeans (dark wash, skinny), silver ballet flats and a red top with lace in the back that showed off my tattoos. I paired it with red lipstick and black stud earrings that were shaped like skulls.

  Raine went cuter, with a bubblegum pink dress and white wedge heels.

  “We clean up nice, don’t we?” she said as we applied our makeup in the long bathroom mirror.

  “Yeah, we’re the hottest romance novelists I know,” I said, pouting my lips at her.

  “Suck it, Nora Roberts,” Raine said, adjusting her bra.

  “Well, look who it is,” Angie said, getting up from the bar where she’d been flirting with Blue, the bartender. Blue worked out a little bit and it showed. He also had such dark eyes that his pupils and irises blended together and making contact with them was unnerving.

  We both dashed over to give her hugs, and Raine had to practically jump to accomplish the feat.

  Angie and I were often mistaken for sisters, but only because we both had brown hair and lots of tattoos. In fact, I’d met her because we’d both been getting work done at the same time and we’d struck up a conversation to distract ourselves. Turned out we went to the same college and were graduating the same year.

  I’d introduced her to Raine, and we’d formed a fast and close friendship.

  “So, how’s the book going?” she said after we’d ordered our first round of drinks.

  “Shh, not so loud,” Raine said, looking around the bar as if, at any moment, we were going to be arrested for being authors.

  “It’s going,” I said, which was our patented response whenever someone asked.

  “Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good.” She sipped her Jack and ginger and winked at Blue. They had an off-again, on-again . . . thing. Angie didn’t explain it and Raine and I didn’t ask.

  “We’re strapped for ideas and someone doesn’t want to do what we need to do to get the damn book done,” Raine said, jabbing her finger in my direction.

  “I’m someone,” I said, raising my hand. “And Raine isn’t telling the story right. What she wants me to do is go out with a guy and sleep with him multiple times and then tell her all the dirty details so we can use it for book material.” Even Angie raised her eyebrows at that.

  Raine made a sound of frustration.

  “You’re the one that’s not telling it right. I want her to go out with a guy, who is interested in her, by the way. I’m a horrible friend that wants her to go out with a good-looking, rich, British guy and then maybe tell me about it afterwards. That’s all. I don’t think that’s crazy.” Angie looked from me to Raine and back.

  “Well, if he’s rich and British, I’d say go for it. You can’t beat that combination. And if he’s good-looking to boot? Add hell to the yes.” Angie and Raine clinked their martini glasses together and then drained them.

  “Barkeep, another round!” Angie said, pounding her fist on the wooden bar top.

  “Don’t make me regret this,” Blue said, handing over two fresh drinks.

  “Baby, I’ll make you regret you were ever born,” Angie said, grabbing his shirt and pulling his face close, as if to kiss him, but she pushed him back at the last second.

  “Goddamn it, Ang.” He shook his head at her and went to deal with another customer. Angie just laughed and tipped her glass in his direction.

  “Ah, I’m going to marry him someday.” She stared at his back for a moment and shifted her attention back to me and Raine.r />
  “So, what are you going to do about the British hottie? One night stand? Relationship? What are you thinking?” Angie said. I downed the rest of my drink and Angie signaled for another. Blue came back over and fixed my drink, to the chagrin of several other people waiting. He just gave them a look and they shut up.

  “I’m not thinking anything because nothing is happening.”

  “Oh my God!” Raine yelled, making me nearly drop my drink mid-sip.

  “Jesus, Raine. What is your deal?” I said, setting my drink down and wiping my hand where it had sloshed over the rim.

  “I just realized who Declan reminds me of. Draco Malfoy. You know, obviously not evil, but seriously, Blair. He’s the spitting image of Draco Malfoy.”

  “That is completely . . .” I thought about it. “Oh my God.”

  “Are you two going to be okay?” Angie asked. She liked a book here and there, especially one with lots of sex in it, but she didn’t read much other than that.

  “He does not look like Draco Malfoy,” I said, adamant.

  “Yeah, he does. Not the guy who played him in the movie, but how I imagined him in my head.” She started cackling and I was half-tempted to shove her off her barstool.

  “What is she going on about?” Angie said.

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

  Raine finally stopped laughing and we changed the subject, asking Angie about how her photography and graphic design business was going. She’d just started doing boudoir sessions to earn extra money and regaled us with tales of women posing in lingerie and with various objects.

  “For real. This woman wanted to pose with a machine gun. I shot that down,” she said, giggling. “And don’t get me started on the woman whose husband was a trucker, so she wanted to pose draped over a huge tire. Talk about sexy.”

  We all laughed and had a pleasant evening. It was nice to not think about writing for a little while, even though it was always in the back of my mind. A writer’s work was never done.

  I cut myself off after three drinks, but I was still a little sloshed by the time Raine and I called a cab to take us home. Angie gave us both hugs, and since she was also intoxicated, sloppy kisses on the cheek. There were promises that we would do this again soon, but if Raine and I didn’t make a breakthrough with the book, then we wouldn’t be going anywhere.

  “Why won’t you go out with the British hottie?” Raine asked me as she rested her head on my shoulder and petted my hair.

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  “Is it because he looks like Draco Malfoy and he’s evil?”

  “No,” I snapped. “Definitely not.”

  “You’re such a liar.”

  Sunday was used up by recovering from Saturday night, doing laundry and procrastinating on writing. When it came to procrastinating, Raine and I were masters.

  “Are you ironing your underwear?” I said, walking into our tiny laundry room to find Raine laying out her panties and steaming them with the iron.

  “No. Yes. Maybe.”

  She gave me a guilty look. Raine couldn’t hide her emotions if her life depended on it.

  “Oh my God, we are at DEFCON 1. This has got to change. We have to do something.” I tore my fingers through my hair. “Maybe we should send Hugh what we have and he can give us some ideas.” That was a last resort, because it would be showing him just how much we didn’t have done.

  “It would change if you would just fuck the hot British guy!” she shrieked. Uh oh. Raine had snapped. This always happened at least once during the writing of each book. Sometimes twice.

  “Raine. That is not the solution. We just need to write. Just write. It’s not that hard. Words on screen.” She turned the iron off and stormed past me.

  “We’ve been working our asses off and nothing is working and I’m scared shitless. What if we can’t finish this book and then we can never write another book? I can’t spend the rest of my life as a bank teller. I won’t! I won’t do it!” The combination of deadline pressure and lack of sleep had finally cracked Raine.

  “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay,” I said, approaching her slowly, as you would approach a wounded tiger, or a child throwing a tantrum.

  “Would you just do this for me? Please?” Her voice cracked. I didn’t see what me going out with Declan really had to do with the book, but somehow Raine had connected those two things in her mind. If it would make her feel better, then I’d go on a damn date with the guy. I mean, if he’d even go out with me. Ada looked pretty cozy with him.

  “Sure, Rainebow. I’ll ask him out. But no promises.”

  I put my arms around her and she rested her head on my boobs. They made excellent pillows.

  “I’m so tired. I don’t even remember how to sleep. I’m so tired.” Her eyes drooped and I wondered if she’d even remember this outburst tomorrow. She was also still a little hung over probably. Bad combination.

  “Well, why don’t you go take a nap? Get some sleep and everything will look better after.” She nodded and let me take her to her bedroom and lay her down on the bed. Her eyes snapped shut and within moments she was breathing deeply and her face relaxed.

  I tiptoed out and closed the door.

  Raine woke a few hours later in a much better mood. I wouldn’t hesitate to call it giddy.

  “What are you so happy about?” Just hours ago she’d been freaking the freak out and now she was sunshine and glitter.

  “You’re going on a date,” she said, grinning at me across the desk. I rolled my eyes.

  “I was kind of hoping you were sleep deprived enough to not remember that part.”

  “Oh no, I remember everything.” She laughed to herself, at a joke only she understood.

  “Did you freak out on purpose to get me to agree to ask him out?” Raine’s grin dropped and her face got serious.

  “No, I would never do that. I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing. That would be insane.” She’d been playing me the whole time. I got up from the desk and smacked her on the shoulder.

  “You faked a breakdown? How could you do that to me?”

  She rubbed her arm where I’d smacked her.

  “Hey, tone down the violence. It was a last resort. I figured right about now is usually when I have my breakdown, so I just . . . hurried it along and faked it a little. Not that I’m not really freaking out about the book, but I would be less freaked if we had some source of new inspiration.”

  “Then why don’t you go out and find some?” She was my best friend and closest confidante, but I swear, I was going to kill her.

  “Well, there is this guy who comes into the bank, but I don’t know if he’d really be book material, if you know what I mean.” She gave me an exaggerated wink.

  When it came to men, Raine still hadn’t recovered from the damage her high school/college boyfriend had done to her. It had been a fiasco, and I still remembered the days spent nursing her back to life after the relationship had ended. She’d been convinced he was the one. Until he wasn’t.

  “Raine,” I said with a sigh, rubbing my temples. I could feel a migraine coming on and if I didn’t take something, it was going to knock me flat on my back and I wouldn’t be able to do anything tomorrow.

  “Hey, I’m sorry, okay? I just think this would be a really good thing for you and for us. He seems like a great guy and I think you have a shot with him,” she said.

  I looked down at her and my anger fizzled. Her heart was in the right place. Her methods might be extreme, but that was Raine for you.

  “I will ask him out, but if he says no, it’s over.”

  “He won’t say no.” She was so confident after digging through all his personal information.

  “I write love stories for a living. I know the start of one when I see it, babe,” she said.

  On Monday, I was nervous and jumpy at work, wondering if Declan would show up with Drake. This whole thing depended on them coming to the library. Sure, I had his phone numbe
r, and I could call him, but he didn’t know I had his number and explaining how I’d gotten it would be a challenge I didn’t think my lying skills could pass.

  Sabrina was finally back from her two weeks in the Bahamas. Tan and bubbling with stories about snorkeling and having drinks on the beach with her husband. I was relieved to have her back so I could have a little breather and work on some of the projects that had been neglected in her absence, including planning events for the Summer Reading Program.

  I was knee deep organizing files in the back room when Sabrina bounced in, her green eyes bright.

  “There’s someone here to see you,” she said in a stage whisper. “I know I’m married, but lordy.” She fanned herself and I slowly rose from my position on the floor. I had a feeling who was here to see me, and that feeling was confirmed when I walked out of the office to find Declan standing there, sans Drake.

  “Hi,” I said, my voice sounding high and scared. He was just a man. No need to lose my head. A sexy, sexy man whose voice made my loins ache and my insides turn to Jell-O .

  “Good morning, Blair.” He had his hands behind his back. “I came today to ask if I could have the pleasure of your company tonight for dinner.” He presented what he’d been holding behind his back. A book.

  I took it from him and read the embossed cover.

  The Secret Garden.

  “I considered bringing flowers, but this seemed more appropriate. And it won’t die.” I had to brace myself on the desk. He’d brought me flowers in book form. Excuse me while I die of the romanticalness of that.

  “Oh,” I said out loud, unintentionally. I stared at the book and then back at his face. His blue eyes sucked me in and I could imagine spending hours just staring into their depths. He’s been waiting for an answer, you dolt.

  “Yes,” I said, stuttering. His face broke into a brilliant smile, flashing teeth that were a dentist’s dream.

  “Excellent. Here is my mobile number, just in case anything changes. How about I pick you up around seven?” I nodded stupidly as he handed me his card with the number scrawled on the back. Oh, I had to tell him where I lived. Right.