Chapter 32
32
At last. It’s Monday.
I’m at Ocean Books’ office waiting in the lobby for Dionne. I can’t stop staring at the wide selection of books on display, protected behind a shiny glass.
Now that my parents know about my deal, I have to find a way to make The Ultimate Payback work. I told them it was one of those cringe stories that I had written during my Wattpad days, which I was convinced would amount to nothing. To my surprise, they lapped it up.
Tapping my jet-black nails against the arm of the leather chair, I watch as a conveyor belt of people (notably white) swipe into the building.
Ocean Books was on my vision board. This is supposed to be a good moment for me .
‘Temi?’
A woman with a pink pixie haircut and DON ’ T LOOK ! printed across her T-shirt rolls her wheelchair in my direction.
I rise to my feet. My handbag, which I had forgotten was on my lap, falls on the floor. Great first impression.
‘Hi, I’m Dionne,’ she says, helping me pick it up. ‘Hope you don’t mind, but I’m a hugger.’ She hugs me like we’re friends meeting up for drinks. I relax a bit. I like her already.
Dionne leads me to a bustling canteen where the walls and furniture are all in Ocean’s distinctive purple-blue colours. After buying me a flapjack and a bottle of orange juice, we sit at a table by the window. We get on like a house on fire. I tell her my age, my heritage, my love for reading and writing, and about my ridiculous eyewear collection (today I’m wearing Shakira). She tells me about herself too: she’s Australian and when she is not reading or editing, she likes to knit.
‘Okay, now that we know a bit more about each other,’ she says, her eyes twinkling as she grins, ‘can I just take a moment to fangirl over The Ultimate Payback ? My God! What a cracking novel! How did you come up with it? How long did it take to write?’
I cross my ankles nervously under the table. ‘Oh, about a month or so.’
‘A month! God, you’re speedy. That’s good to know as I was thinking you could write a sequel.’
‘A sequel?!’
Dionne grins, oblivious to my state of panic. ‘And did Mayee tell you that I read it in one sitting?’
‘Seriously? I mean, wow, thank you.’ Though I’m flattered, I’m shocked that she is responding so positively to something so filled with negativity. ‘Sorry –’ I clear my throat – ‘may I ask what you responded to in the manuscript?’
‘Honestly?’ She raises a brow as if she’s about to make a confession. ‘Pretty much everything.’
Oh dear.
‘From Sophie’s sass levels to Wayne’s beautiful, tatted-up body. Some of the things she writes in her exposé are just comedy gold. And so relatable!’
I try to disguise my wince. Then she reaches into her Ocean-branded tote bag, pulls out a stack of paper and places it on the table.
It’s my manuscript.
My actual manuscript.
Over 350 pages printed out in its full glory.
On the front, Dionne has scribbled ‘Love this!’ next to where I’d typed The Ultimate Payback .
I guess there’s no point asking whether I can change the title.
‘I highlighted so many sentences,’ Dionne says. She’s thumbing her way through the printout to reveal the pink and yellow sections. ‘Ooh, like this scene.’ She stops. ‘It’s the one where Sophie and Wayne have sex, and it’s so bad, she spends the whole time thinking about what she’ll make herself for lunch.’
I try not to pull a face. That had never happened. But if Wale reads this, he will question whether I faked every one of my orgasms. It’ll crush him. Massively.
‘Oh, and this one.’ Dionne stops again and I try my best not to groan. ‘When Wayne puts on a front that he’s loaded, only to have his card declined at a swanky restaurant. Talk about awkward.’
I remember the night I wrote that scene. It was right after I’d finished watching another frustrating episode of The Villa .
‘So, tell me more about your writing process,’ she says, turning the printout over. On the last page, she has drawn a star at the bottom with the words ‘Smash hit’. ‘Mayee told me how you’re a ghostwriter for a reality TV star. How cool is that? Is that what sparked the idea, then?’
I nearly choke on my flapjack. ‘Actually, it’s inspired by my ex.’
Dionne’s mouth shrinks into a small ‘o’. ‘You see, this is why you should never piss off writers. You might end up in their next book.’ She laughs. ‘So, what did he do? Don’t tell me he cheated?’
‘No,’ I say quickly. I know Wale hates that word. ‘He lied. By omission.’
Dionne shakes her head and sighs. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that. At least you had the last laugh.’
‘Well, that’s the thing …’ I break a piece of my flapjack and lower it. ‘I actually don’t want my ex to know that my book is based on him. Is there any way I could change it somehow?’ I really hope Dionne is open to me making some serious revisions, otherwise I don’t know what I’m going to do.
‘Do you mean changing the bits you’re uncomfortable with? Absolutely,’ she says.
Her words are like music to my ears. I feel so much lighter.
‘Don’t worry. We can change anything that is too obvious. It’s not like you’re asking that we change the entire plot now, are you? Unless your ex is a reality TV star?’ She laughs again.
I can’t bring myself to laugh along.
No – I knew that change wouldn’t be possible. It would produce an entirely different book. But perhaps if Wale realizes that only the concept is based on him, on us, he won’t be so hurt.
My mind whirring, I nibble on my flapjack even though I no longer have an appetite.
‘Now that explains the ending,’ Dionne says, studying my face. ‘Why Sophie ends up with someone else as opposed to reconciling with Wayne. But I actually think they should get back together. Readers love a good second-chance romance.’
I force a smile and nod. She’s right. I’m one of those readers. And as a die-hard romance lover, I knew Sophie and Wayne were meant to find their way back to each other’s arms, that I was supposed to give them their ‘happily ever after’. I was just too angry with Wale.
But I’m not any more.
No matter how much I can say it’s only fiction, there will always be a part of him that will question what I really think about him. And if the public does find out that he’s my ex, they will not be able to draw a line between what is true and what is not. He will be the centre of an online furore. It will feed into his paranoia, make him trust less. I will be that ex-girlfriend who’s responsible for his emotional trauma for years to come – Cammie 2.0. Worst of all, unlike Sophie and Wayne, we will never get our second chance as Wale may never speak to me again.
I have to find a way to get this book right. I have to.