Chapter 3 Bottom of the Mid-List Lila
Bottom of the Mid-List
Lila
They say never meet your heroes. Which was only one of the reasons I was so nervous to be standing outside the front door of a sprawling waterfront home in Sea Oat Shores’ most exclusive neighborhood, at the edge of downtown, where the ocean and the sound meet, with a to-go cappuccino in my hand.
I had tossed and turned all night about whether I should do this.
No, it wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t my book or my career.
But I knew one thing for sure: I wanted to be a writer.
I did not want to go home and milk cows and gather chicken eggs—as much as I truly loved each animal on the farm I grew up on.
“Sometimes you have to fight for what you want,” I reminded myself, out loud. “Sometimes dreams take compromise.”
The door flew open, and a man with twinkling brown eyes, a ruggedly chiseled jaw, and effortless tousled hair, grinned at me mischievously. “That’s right,” he said. “It’s a long and winding road to our dreams.”
I could feel my cheeks redden. “Oh, uh . . .” I stammered.
He laughed easily. “I’m sorry. I’m Grady. Nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand. “And I get that you might be talking yourself into this. And for good reason.” He looked around behind me. “Where’s your agent?”
“Oh, well,” I started sheepishly, “I don’t exactly have one.” If I did, would I even be in this mess?
“What?” Grady asked, alarmed. He put his hands in his pockets. “Oh, Lila . . . You always need an agent.”
“Yes. I’m realizing that. Thank you for that sage and well-timed advice.”
He gestured for me to walk in, following me. The floors looked to be original heart pine plank, but otherwise, the house was a sea of white upholstery.
This place was huge and gleaming and perfect, with light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the most glorious view of the ocean.
I, meanwhile, was spending every cent I could scrape together from my two jobs to afford my tiny studio with a couple of paltry windows and some secondhand furniture—and generally feeling pretty happy about it because I didn’t have a roommate!
I was reminded, being here, of what I hoped to achieve one day.
Elizabeth swanned into the room in a colorful caftan, looking like she was about to board a yacht, her chestnut bob perfectly styled.
When she saw me, she stopped in her tracks.
“It’s you!” She grinned widely. “I thought it was going to be some bottom-of-the-mid-list miscreant that they . . .” She waved her hand.
“Oh, never mind. My darling barista is here to save the day!”
Bottom-of-the-mid-list miscreant. Wow.
Grady laughed uneasily. “Um, actually, Mom, this is Lila Everwood, barista, author, and soon-to-be ghostwriter.”
To her credit, she did at least look embarrassed.
I handed her the cappuccino awkwardly, and Elizabeth gestured for me to sit down on the upholstered sofa across from her. “You’re an author? Why didn’t you say something before?”
So . . . We were just going to glaze over her insult. Okay. “I thought you might want your privacy?”
She nodded. “Well, this will be a quick meeting, because I’ve decided I’m going to write my next book alone.”
I shared a look with Grady, who leaned forward. “Mom, we’ve talked about this.”
Grady clearly wasn’t in on his mother’s change of heart. And, no, it wasn’t like I was dying to do this. But if Elizabeth changed her mind, it was pretty clear that my relationship with Apprentice was over. And then where would that leave me?
Sometimes you have to fight for your dreams, I reminded myself.
I decided to appeal to her ego. “Elizabeth, I’m sure you have reservations about this, but it would be such an honor to work with you, to help protect and continue your peerless legacy. You are absolutely my favorite author, and to learn from you will just be the thrill of a lifetime.”
I was laying it on thick, but that was also, well, true. She did look flattered, which was good.
“Look, Lila, I’m sure you are wonderful, but I don’t need a ghostwriter.”
“Mom!” Grady protested. “Yes, you do!”
She shot him a look. “I don’t want my brand muddied.”
I wanted to say Better muddied than dead.
But, instead, I went with “We will absolutely not muddy your brand. I will do everything in my power to sound exactly like you, and you will be there guiding me every step of the way. This isn’t even about us!
This is for your die-hard fans. They need you. I need you.”
Okay. Maybe I had taken it too far. But a smile played on her lips. Wow. Okay. If I ever became this much of an egomaniac, someone had better stop me. Still, she said nothing.
“With all due respect, what’s the downside here?” How did I phrase this kindly? “You aren’t exactly, um, writing right now anyway, are you?”
Elizabeth gasped and put her hand to her chest. “Of course I’m still writing.”
“Are you?” Grady said under his breath.
I was getting nervous, because I didn’t seem to be swaying her.
And whereas yesterday I was panicking because I didn’t want to do this, now I was panicking because I didn’t have any other choice.
This was my last shot, so I took a really, really big chance.
“Great!” I said sunnily. “I’d like to see what you’re working on. ”
She laughed. “Excuse me. What?”
“Look, I’m here. It would be such a thrill to see how you work your magic. And then I can tell Victoria that this whole arrangement is unwarranted.”
“I will do no such thing!” Elizabeth protested. “That is absurd. Grady, tell her.”
“Actually, I agree with Lila.” He raised his eyebrows at her.
Elizabeth cut her eyes at him. “Do you want to be disinherited? Because I have no problem leaving all my money to my dogs.”
He crossed his arms. “As your agent, not as your son, I’d like to see what you’re working on.”
Her agent. Interesting.
“Fine,” she said. “Fine. Please, by all means, let me prove I’ve been doing the thing as natural to me as breathing. For heaven’s sake.”
As she swished down the hall, Grady grinned at me like we had a secret. I didn’t know him at all. But I already loved being on his team.