“Oh, yeah?” he asks.
I nod.
I don't know why I feel the need to tell him all of this.
It's not really a need, but a desire to share.
A part of me suspects that it might have something to do with the fact that he's the first person who has actually showed any interest in my work and in me in a long time.
“Tell me about it,” he says, shifting his weight forward and leaning closer to me.
“I pitched a story about a reclusive writer that no one knows anything about. It seemed like an impossible assignment at the time and is not a great fit for the magazine, but I had nothing else for the pitch meeting so I went with it. I had no idea that she would actually take me up on it.”
“Who is the reclusive writer?”
“D. B. Carter. Ever heard of him?”
Liam shakes his head and says, “I'm not much of a reader.”
“Well, a lot of people like him. He’s an independently published author.”
“Meaning?”
“He sells and publishes his books on Amazon and other platforms by himself.”
“What's so special about him?” Liam asks.
“He sells a lot of books. He writes epic fantasy with some romance. He makes a lot of money. He has sold millions of copies. He has been on all the big lists like The New York Times and USA Today. You know what else?”
“What?”
“He publishes a book every month or so. He’s dominating the space and no one knows one thing about him. Or even if he’s a he at all.”
“It might be a woman?” Liam asks.
“Pseudonyms are really popular so, technically, yes, D. B. Carter could be a man or woman. I'm just assuming that it's a man…unfortunately, being a white male is kind of a default setting.”
“So, how are you going to go about finding him or her?”
“I have no idea. Do you know anything about searching for people on the Internet?”
“No, not really. I don't even have a social media account.”
“Well, D. B. Carter does. Actually, he is quite active, but he never posts any pictures or personal information of any kind. Just promos for the books.”
“Can you just reach out to the account and ask for an interview?”
“Yeah, I guess. That's probably what I'm going to have to do.”
“Huh,” Liam says, leaning back against the picnic table. “Have you ever thought it was more than one person?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you said that the author is really prolific. They publish a bunch of books. Maybe it's not just one person doing the work. Maybe there's a bunch of ghostwriters.”
“I thought about that, but the work is too consistent and too good. If anything, it could be a few authors working together under one pen name. That's basically the mystery that Coast wants me to uncover. Exactly how I do that with a person who doesn't reveal anything personal anywhere on the Internet I have no idea.”
There's a long pause and it hangs in the air between us like a cumulus cloud. I realize that Liam might be onto something. Sometimes the people that know nothing at all can present a perspective that’s impossible to see from up close.
It never occurred to me that D. B. Carter could be two writers. There are numerous examples of this in the romance genre. Kennedy Fox, for one. They are two writers who alternate writing different chapters of the same book and then do the promotions together.
Could D. B. Carter be someone like that?
Could D. B. Carter be two women like that?
Liam and I sit together for a long time until I start to shiver.
This city is a desert with little humidity. Once the sun goes down, the earth turns cold, and your mother’s little dress becomes insufficient.
“I’m going inside,” I tell Liam. “See you there?”
He gives me a nod and a faraway smile that assures me that I won’t see him again.
11
Liam
I don't belong here.
I haven't been in LA in close to two years and now I remember why.
Plastic faces.
Plastic personalities.
Plastic lifestyles.
Everyone here is obsessed with money.
It's unfair to put everyone into the same pot and it’s even more unfair to use the guests of this party as a representation for all of Los Angeles, but I can’t help myself.
I ran into Alex by accident. I knew him back in middle school. We were friends but after my family moved away, we lost touch.
I shouldn’t be here, but I couldn’t say no.
There's no one around and I love it that way. I'm not much of a people person. It’s too crowded inside and the views from up here are breathtaking.
The breeze picks up and I close my eyes and enjoy the way it caresses my face. It's both refreshing and freeing.
I can almost taste the salt in the air. It feels so good against my skin that I actually wonder if I should maybe move back here. Not to the city and not in a development, but maybe get a little spread of a few acres on a cliff somewhere overlooking the vastness of the Pacific.
That's the main reason why I am here. I know that Alex’s hedge fund is doing quite well. As soon as I had mentioned that I have some money of my own, he started calling me about coming in for an investment meeting.
A woman sits at the picnic table right next to me without seeing me. She's so buried in her grief and consumed by her sadness that she practically looks straight through me.
I don't recognize her at first, but then she starts talking and I remember where I know her from. She descended down the marble staircase like a princess. I wonder if I’m the only person at this party who knows that her fiancé waiting for her at the bottom doesn't deserve her.
Alex has a lot of positive attributes, but none of them are ones that will make him a good husband. He's bored easily, especially by women. And he's someone who needs to be entertained.
This woman sitting in front of me doesn't look like someone who is looking to put on a show. I don’t mean that in an offensive way. It’s just an observation.
Instead, she looks like someone who wants an equal partner.
Someone to love her, someone to be there for her, and someone to not cheat on her.
I'm the first guest that Emma tells that her engagement is off. I'm not so sure that this is actually the case because Alex does have a way with words and a way of getting what he wants, but I want to believe her.
She seems certain. She doesn't go into any of the details, but she doesn't need to. I only knew Alex as a kid but I’ve seen him on social media years ago. He has always loved women. Many women.
After Emma leaves, I continue to sit at the picnic table staring at the dark ocean below. I give myself a few more minutes before I get up and go back inside.
“Liam! There you are!” Alex waves to me from across the room.
I see him trapped in a conversation with four older gentlemen who look like they play a lot of golf and I'm happy to come to his rescue.
“He’s one of my oldest friends. I've known this guy since middle school,” Alex says.
After we all shake hands, the guy in the round spectacles asks, “What do you do for a living?”