I pushed her hand away and went back to eyeing my sugar rush that would be making its delicious way through my body this evening.
“I don’t look like her.”
Jaci laughed. “You’re her doppelganger, Spencer. Accept it.”
I’d heard that my whole life. I appreciated the compliment, but I just didn’t see it.
We managed to spend too much money, but the dinner she made was amazing, though it should be. Her fabulous cooking skills were how she became one of the top chefs in New York City.
“So,” she looked at my computer and took the wine glass I offered her, “what are you working on now?”
“Just finished a manuscript.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know why you waste your talent ghostwriting for someone you don’t even know.”
I pulled my laptop off my desk and sank into the couch next to the river stone fireplace. I loved the deep, heavy heat that emanated from the stone. It was my favorite part of the cabin. We had spent days collecting river rock to build it. Every stone held a memory for me.
“You know why.” I tapped on my email icon that blinked with three unread messages. “I don’t like the attention, and look where it got me.”
“Some authors would kill for what you went through.”
“Just cost me two parents and a lovely cold case.” My brothers face popped up, but I pushed it away. I always suspected he had something to do with what happened, but I never could prove it.
“Your parents’ death wasn’t your fault.”
“I know,” I muttered. I tapped a message that just arrived a moment ago. “Hm,” I thought out loud. “Damn.” I swung the mouse to open the rest of the request.
“What did you get?” Jaci shimmied closer.
“Here, I’ll read it to you. Dear Ms. Hemsworth.” I grinned at my fake name. I always loved Liam Hemsworth.
“Always in the fantasyland, I see.” She laughed as I raised a brow and went on.
“I see that you have an opening for a series. I have a five-book deal that’s a murder mystery romance. It’s an intense project, but one that would be worth your time. Here are the details. It would be a book a month, and the word count would be around eighty-five thousand. I’m willing to negotiate the timeline if you can provide a faster turnaround time. Payment for each book would be eight thousand US dollars. After doing a great amount of research on ghostwriters, your name was mentioned on many occasions. If you’re interested in speaking more about this project, please switch to an IM. I have provided the link below. I’m not one for paper trails.” I squinted at the link.
“Christ, that’s a lot in a half a year.”
“It is, but it’s also eight grand per book.”
“Let me see that again!” She grabbed my laptop and scanned the words for herself. “I am in the wrong line of work.” She tapped around on the attachment and started to hunt. “And you have no way of knowing who it is?”
“Not until the books go live and I go digging, and even then, it’s tricky because the author can add to it and throw the ghostwriter off.”
She glanced over at me, her lips pressed into a straight line. “How does that not drive you crazy? I mean, this could be James Patterson, for all you know.”
“It’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.” I’m not even on his radar.
She leaned her head back to sigh when I snatched my laptop back. “Are you going to take the deal?”
I scrolled down to the rest of the document and noticed they didn’t enter the normal requirements. Again, I read that if I was interested, I was to follow the link to an IM chat, and he or she would discuss it further.
“The host wants to chat,” I whispered.
“Is that how it normally works?”
“No. Not in my experience, at least.” I hovered over the link and clicked it. A new window popped up, and a black chat board waited for one of us to start the conversation.
New User: You contacted me.
I hit send and saw my name went from “New User” to “GW.” Real original.
“Why did that switch?” Jaci pointed to the screen.
“Not sure.” I waited for him to pop on.
“Ghostwriter is what he named you?” Jaci laughed to herself. “No wonder he needs you. He has zero originality.”
“I don’t know if it’s a him,” I reminded her.
“But you always call them a he, so we will say he.”
“Fair enough,” I muttered.
“Well,” she poked my leg with her Ugg boot, “are we going to talk about the subject that I’ve been waiting patiently to ask, or are we still dancing around it?”
I squeezed my eyes shut to take a moment to let the strange feeling subside.
“It’s a blind date, some guy Lisa knows from work. I tried to protest that I wasn’t ready, but she knows I’m totally finished with Justin and have been for a while.” When she began to speak, I held up a hand. “I have no clue what he looks like, but I am meeting him in front of the Hilton by the lake.”
“And you will follow proper protocol?” She lifted her eyebrows and turned her head to the side. She did it that way because she couldn’t raise just one. I hid my laughter and promised her I would.
“Good. Well, as much fun as this is,” Jaci yawned, “I have to be back in the city tomorrow and need to leave by six.” She downed the rest of her glass. “Night.” She kissed the top of my head while I stared at the cursor. “If you’re not up, I’ll drop the key through the mail slot.”
“Night, friend.” I blew her a kiss while I kept my eyes on the chat box.
That night, the wind blew hard against the side of the cabin. The lake provided zero protection against Mother Nature, but my father refused to obstruct his view. The season had changed from summer to fall over the past weeks. I loved October. It was my favorite of all the seasons. The fall meant days of glorious color. The leaves that lined the water’s edge had exploded into an endless palette of different shades of orange and red. The ground was a blanket of its reflection.
Soon, my eyes grew heavy, and I fell asleep to the crackle of the fire.
I slept dreamlessly, and it seemed like no time before the light from the sun warmed my face enough to wake me out of a deep sleep. I knew Jaci would have left by now, and I was alone in the cabin. I shook off the momentary loneliness and looked at the clock. It read ten, and I rubbed my eyes to clear the fog. I wasn’t a morning person at all. I wrote best in the dark.
Something wet hit my eye and then again on my lips. Ew. I peeled one eye open to see a bright pink tongue pop out and lick my forehead.
“Morning, Bentley.” I rolled over and heard him whine while he bumped his leash on the wall. He was well past ready to go for his walk.
With a groan, I pulled on my kicks, tossed my hair up in a messy ponytail, and wrapped a red plaid shirt around my waist in case it didn’t warm up.
“Let’s go, pup.” I waved him out first and followed.
The air had a slight nip to it, which made these walks much more enjoyable.
The book deal was on the edge of my thoughts. Eight grand per book was tempting, but it also made me wonder even more who it was.