Chapter 18
Alice
A fter finishing my latest Creative Writing assignment, I finally have time to focus on my own story again. I’m sprawled out on my bed in sweatpants and a sports bra, my laptop open and covered with potato chip crumbs, when I get a text.
Regina: OMG, girl. This book is fire! The scene in the grass? I cannot. I need to find a man to get down and dirty with me like that in real life.
I laugh.
Me: You and me both.
Regina: Something tells me you already found one.
Me: Hush. You know nothing.
Regina: You know I’d never tell a soul. But seriously, the book is great! The club should read it when it’s released.
Me: That’s literally my worst nightmare. It was hard enough to share it with you. Doesn’t matter, though. This one might not even get to release at this point. But thanks. I needed to hear it.
Regina: What do you mean you won’t release? Spill.
I groan, hopping up to shut my bedroom door because my dad has the volume on the TV turned up so loud I can hear every time a contestant presses their buzzer. I send her a voice memo to explain the problems I’m having. I need help updating the graphics on my website, and I also can’t find a cover artist within my budget, which is basically non-existent. I’m not using stock images because the last time I did that someone with a huge social media following used the same photo and decided our books looked too similar. I’d never even heard of them, but they accused me of copying their work and sent a bunch of internet trolls after me. I never want to go through that again.
She responds with a three-word solution.
Regina: Just ask him.
It probably does seem that simple to her. After what she walked in on, I’m sure she thinks Jake and I are a thing.
We aren’t.
At least I don’t think we are. We haven’t even spoken since the wedding. She’s right, though, it would make sense to ask him. After all, before he left college he did go to school for graphic design and digital marketing, and he is the best artist in North Bay. But I can’t call the guy I’ve been badmouthing for years and ask him to do me a favor right after I hooked up with him. Can I?
I turn back to my laptop screen and try to focus, but I can’t concentrate on writing. I meant what I said to Regina. None of this is going to matter if I can’t get these cover design and website issues sorted. Knowing all the work I put into the words, I never would have believed writing the book is the easiest part of writing a book. But it’s true.
Regina’s advice is pretty solid. I really should ask Jake about this. He would at least be able to point me in the right direction.
I let out a sigh and abandon the idea that I’m going to get any new words written today. Then I pick up my phone to text him.
Me : Hey, can I talk to you about something?
My phone rings immediately.
“Is everything okay?”
Hearing his voice enter my space shifts my equilibrium.
“Yeah.” My mouth is suddenly dry. I can’t remember the last time I spoke to Jake on the phone. I hold it against my shoulder and twist off the cap of the water bottle next to me. “It’s nothing dramatic. I was wondering if I could, uh, hire you?”
“Hire me?”
“Yes. I find myself interested in your services.” I take a sip and wait for him to speak. What is so difficult to understand about this?
“Like…as an escort? Is this your bizarre way of asking for a booty call?”
I spit out the water and start coughing. “What? No!” Does he really think I’m so hard-up for affection that I would offer to pay him for it? “I need someone to do some art for me. You do commissions, right?”
“Oh, sweet. What’s the project?”
“A book cover. Maybe some help with my website? Possibly also separate character art?” The longer this conversation drags on, the less confident I feel.
“Can you send it to me?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Letting him read my book would be like letting him read my diary, only maybe worse. What if my writing is as bad as Ratnick thinks it is?
“Look, I can’t draw you anything if I don’t know what your book is about.” Jake chuckles. The low, throaty sound transports me straight back to our time in the cottage and makes me shiver.
I take a breath. “Can I just tell you? It’s about these women.” I pause, trying to think of how I want to phrase my description. Why am I so embarrassed about this? I love this book. I worked hard on it.
“Okay…gonna need a little more than that.”
“And they live together in this commune in a swamp. Their population is dying, and they need to find a way to preserve their way of life, but they don’t necessarily want men to be part of their utopian society. So, they start a separate off-site area that is just for…procreation purposes. And then things start to get complicated with jealousy and power dynamics and stuff, which makes their community structure fall apart. But it’s primarily a forbidden love story between the leader’s daughter and one of the male concubines.” I cringe and wait for him to laugh at me.
“Can I read it? Please?”
“Why?” I practically squeak. “I just told you everything you need to know.”
“Mostly because you wrote a book, and that’s awesome. But also because if you want me to create artwork for it, then I need to understand what I’m drawing.”
“Oh.” I’m the one asking for a favor, and I can’t argue with his logic, so I give in. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll email you a copy.”
“Cool.” A new text comes through with the email address he wants me to use.
“How much do you charge?” I ask, dreading his answer.
“Under normal circumstances, I would say it depends on the scope of the project.”
“What kind of circumstances are these?”
“Exceptional ones.” I can hear the smile in his voice. He’s toying with me. He’s either going to charge me double or think of something outrageous I need to do for him before he will agree to this.
“Exceptional how?”
“How do you feel about bartering services?” he asks. “My uncle asked me to ride out and take a look at a new property near Williamsburg this week. Do you want to come with me? We could get lunch or something while we’re out there.”
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go back to another empty house together?” But even as I say it, I can feel my own resolve crumbling.
“Presumptuous much?” he teases. “I could use another set of eyes on this property. I want to make sure I’m not overlooking anything major. And I thought it would be nice to have some company, that’s all.”
“Yeah. Okay,” I agree. What harm could come from a little road trip and a lunch date with a friend?