39
A BOOK LAUNCH is a bit like a wedding. All my friends and family are here. I’m in a dress I might never wear again, I’m sweating, and I have to stand in front of a crowd and talk about something I love.
I have no idea if any readers will come. My first book actually sold very well. Well being a relative term, of course. It sold well enough that people were excited for what was coming next. Are the people who enjoyed The Hike , a dark, messy, funny, fucked-up book about murder but really about breaking up, also going to enjoy The Scam , a dark, messy, funny, fucked-up book about deception but really about falling in love? Because it might sound like there is a similar thread in them but they’re actually about completely opposite things: this new one is about love, and the first one was anti-love.
I was making notes last night in preparation for talking at the launch, and I was trying to articulate why I wrote this book, now, after the last one, and where this sense of hope has come from. People say authors write the same book over and over, that they have the same preoccupations and ideas they’re trying to figure out, and I think that’s true but it’s also not true. I’m not the same Anna I was when I wrote my first book. She was in a relationship that was falling apart around her, even though she might not have realised it at the time. She was lost, not just in her relationship but also in her job. She was writing to find an escape. The Anna who wrote this second book, well she felt hopeful . She was building a new life.
The room is filling up, and I feel sweaty and nauseous. I thought I felt that way at my first launch because it was my first book, but it turns out this is just my standard book-launch feeling. I regret everything. I want to cancel. But it’s too late, because the night has started and people are arriving. Mum, Dad, Hayley, Luke and Jean are here. Bobbi is selling books, and she keeps shooing me away when I try and help her set things up.
My editor, Samantha, and my publicist, Claire, are both smiling at me from across the room. Patrick walks in with a big bunch of flowers. We’ve been dating for three months now.
He walks over to me, grinning.
‘Hey,’ he says, handing me the flowers. ‘Congratulations.’ The flowers are a bright, sunshiny mix of yellow lilies and gerberas. He kisses me quickly, and I squeeze his hand. I slept with him after our third date, and sex with him is a little like our first date. He tries very hard, he talks a bit too much, he asks lots of questions, and he makes me feel special.
‘These are so gorgeous, thank you,’ I say, clutching them to my chest. ‘And thank you for coming.’
‘Are you kidding me? It’s your big night. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘Thanks,’ I say.
I’m wearing the dress of Hayley’s I wore in New York last year, the long body-hugging dress. I got my hair professionally blow-waved. Patrick has brought his good camera after all.
‘There’s so many people here already,’ he says. The room is filling up. It looks like around seventy people so far. Maybe more. I can’t think about actual numbers or I’ll get more nervous. I see a bunch of regulars from the bookshop.
‘I need to circulate and say hi,’ I say.
He holds out his hand. ‘Give me back the flowers, I’ll hold them.’
‘No. I love them.’
‘They’ll be in your way. I should have given them to you at the end.’
‘They’re perfect, and I’m glad you gave them to me now,’ I say, but I do hand them back.
I give Hayley a please-look-after-Patrick-and-save-him-from-the-mums look and she nods.
I take a deep breath.
I need to be on, I need to be sparkling Anna, funny Anna, author Anna—vivacious but also calm and in control without a care in the world. The crowd feels too big now, and I move around, chatting to people and thanking them for coming. Claire gives me the we’re-starting-soon nod and I walk over to chat with Penny, the author who is launching my book. She writes very popular domestic women’s fiction that sells internationally, and having her both endorse and launch my book is a big deal.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asks.
‘A little nervous.’
‘Do you need a drink?’
‘No, that will make me babble.’
The proceedings begin. Penny and I are being introduced, and I’m looking around the room and smiling, relaxing a little bit now that we’re underway. I look at my parents, who are wearing matching T-shirts they had printed especially for tonight with my book cover on the front, and the words scam artist on the back, which is both utterly adorable and quite embarrassing. I see Patrick standing with Hayley and Luke, and he gives me a double thumbs up. I smile. I see Joel, oh god, why did I invite him? I put him on and off the invite list so many times until I just gave up and left him on. Bianca is beside him, holding Birdie. I look away before either of them can make eye contact with me.
Penny has finished her introductory spiel and now we’re doing a Q&A.
‘Let’s start at the beginning. What was the inspiration behind this novel?’ she asks.
‘Well. Look, if you saw the Word document this book grew out of, you would not be using the word “inspiration” I promise. It had a very chaotic start.’
Penny laughs and our conversation flows easily from there. We talk about my writing process, second-book syndrome, research, and how I develop my characters.
‘It may not seem like it at first, but this book is actually very romantic. Has your outlook on love changed in recent years?’ Penny asks.
‘Oh that’s an interesting question,’ I say. I can see Patrick beaming at me and clutching the flowers. I smile back at him. A few rows behind him, there’s Joel, his face serious. He has serious resting face though, so it doesn’t mean much. I see Hayley, her head on Luke’s shoulder, looking like she might have tears in her eyes. She cried at my first launch too. And she’s even more emotional this time because I dedicated the book to her and Luke.
And then my eyes land on a face at the back of the crowd. My vision goes blurry for a second, and I can’t quite catch my breath, because surely not. I blink rapidly, my heart rate skyrocketing. I look away, and back again.
It’s Mac.
Mac is here. At my book launch.
I must be hallucinating. Has the stress of the launch pushed me into a state of delusion? I wouldn’t be the first author to lose their grasp on reality at their book launch. I steady my hand against the side of my stool. I can’t faint—that won’t be good for sales.
But no. It is Mac. He’s standing there, up the back, in a nice, well-fitting shirt, holding a glass of wine.
His eyes meet mine. He smiles, a small uncertain smile.
My composure wobbles. My heart, which was already beating a million miles a second, is going even faster now. I feel dizzy. I clear my throat.
Mac is here.
I can’t think about it anymore because I need to talk now.
I am taking far too long to answer. The whole crowd is looking at me with concern. I clear my throat, and give a small laugh.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘I, I just saw—never mind. Sorry. What was the question?’
‘I found your book to be quite romantic, much more so than your first one, and I was wondering if your outlook on love had changed?’ Penny says gently.
I train my eyes on Penny. I can’t risk looking at Mac again. It will undo me. I can feel my left hand shaking, so I slide it under my thigh.
‘I think it has, yes. I wrote this book when I was in a much more hopeful place. I was in a very different headspace when I wrote my first book.’
‘And what’s your headspace now?’ Penny says.
‘I’m still feeling pretty hopeful. About love,’ I say, smiling, nodding, sweating, wishing I could get off this stage right now and hide in the bathrooms.
There’s a small whoop when I say this, and it’s from Patrick, who is grinning broadly at me. I smile back at him weakly. My heart can’t handle whooping right now.
Penny eventually wraps up the questions, and the audience applauds, and Samantha takes the microphone and reminds everyone in a friendly way that books are for sale and that I’ll be waiting at the signing table to sign them.
I want to go straight to Mac, but I need to sign books, and I’m not ready to see him, mentally, and there’s wonderful Patrick, with my flowers, ready to publicly whoop again about our relationship, and Joel, who I regret inviting, a third man I have slept with here, who I now need to worry about when I really wish I didn’t have to think about any of them. Claire is steering me to the signing table, getting out the Post-its she puts on people’s books with their name, in case I panic and forget how to spell.
Deep breath. I have a job to do right now. Focus on that.
I get into the swing of being author Anna, smiling and laughing, making small talk, signing my books, stamping them with the black heart stamp I bought especially for this.
Patrick appears in front of me, proudly brandishing his copy.
Why didn’t I figure out ahead of time what I was going to write in his book?
‘One signed copy please,’ he says.
I write, Dear Patrick , and then hesitate.
‘Wait, I want to get a picture of you signing my book,’ he says, holding up his professional camera.
My hand holding the pen feels like it’s shaking. Who knows what my face looks like. I need to get it together. I turn my attention to the page and write thank you for being you and sign my name. I stamp the book with the heart, three times, and then slide it back to him.
Hayley is in the line a few people behind Patrick, even though I have already given her a signed copy of the book at home, so she’s clearly only lining up so we can gossip.
‘Oh my god, Mac is here,’ she hisses. ‘Why is he here? What the hell?’
‘I don’t know,’ I hiss back.
She leans across the table and grips my arms. ‘Did you know he was coming?’
‘No!’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘What about Patrick?’
‘I don’t know!’
Hayley’s eyes are shining, and she’s grinning. She finds this level of drama irresistible. This is when she is most Bobbi’s daughter. ‘The mums are freaking out,’ she says.
‘Don’t let them talk to anyone.’
‘Too late.’
‘Get me a wine, please,’ I say, writing something illegible in her copy of the book on the wrong page, forgetting to sign my name, and not caring. ‘And don’t let Patrick or Mac or Joel or Bianca or my parents or Bobbi interact.’
‘Oh my god, Joel,’ she says, shaking her head with obvious delight. ‘Why is he here?’
I don’t bother mentioning I invited him. I shoo her away.
The signing line carries on, and I can see Mac right at the end, holding my book. He looks more handsome than ever. I am so focused on him I don’t realise the next person stepping up to me is Marco, my old boss. I did not invite him. He must have heard about the launch from the other co-workers I invited.
‘Anna!’ he says, throwing his arms wide, like I would be happy to see him.
‘Marco,’ I say, trying to muster enthusiasm.
‘Polo!’ he says back gleefully, and my eyes go over his shoulder to meet Mac’s. He is struggling not to laugh. I sign Marco’s book as quickly as possible, deflecting his questions about where I am working now, barely listening to him at all, because I don’t have to anymore.
And, there, finally, is Mac.
‘Hey,’ he says. He looks nervous.
‘Hi,’ I say, and I swallow hard, because I feel like I’m going to burst into tears. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I told you I wanted to come to your book launch.’
I stand up, walk around the table, and hug him. He smells how I remember him smelling. No, he smells better. He hugs me back, he hugs me too much, and I step back, acutely aware that Patrick and my parents and who knows who else are watching.
‘What are you really doing here?’
‘I wanted a signed copy.’ He keeps giving me his crinkly-eyed smile. I still feel like crying, but under that, I’m getting angry too. I don’t want to feel anything for him.
‘I could have sent you one,’ I say.
‘International postage is so expensive these days.’
‘Thank you for the savings.’ I pause. ‘I can’t believe you’re here.’
‘Well, I am.’
‘For how long?’
‘A week.’
The Post-it on his book says ‘Cormac’.
‘Cormac,’ I say, looking at it, touching my finger to the words, and then up at him.
‘I wanted it to match my other signed copy.’
My hand is shaking again and I really hope he can’t see it.
I write Dear Cormac, thank you for inspiring me , and I sign my name, with three xxxs after it, no heart stamp, and I slide the book back to him. I regret the xxxs.
‘Where are you staying?’ I ask.
‘With my sister.’
‘Oh, good.’
I still can’t believe he is here. I used to picture him turning up just like this.
But now it’s all too late.
I got over you , I want to scream. I already did the work to get over you. I have Patrick now, and he’s perfect.
Claire and Samantha congratulate me, and then I need to say goodbye and thank you to Penny, and then I have to talk to various groups of people. Suddenly the launch is winding down. I can see Hayley and Luke standing with Patrick, and Mac, and Joel and Bianca and Birdie.
I approach them.
‘Hey,’ I say.
‘Hey!’ Hayley says, too brightly, her tone slightly manic. She’s been playing host and moderator and security guard all in one. Luke looks slightly sweaty.
‘Mac and Patrick are joining us for dinner,’ Hayley says, her eyes widening at me in such a way that I have to look away or I will start laughing hysterically. ‘Joel and Bianca have to get Birdie to bed.’
‘That’s a shame,’ I say, and to my credit I sound sincere.
Bianca smiles at me. She’s wearing a cute dress, and she looks gorgeous. I lean down to say hi to Birdie who looks at me coolly. I am apparently less appealing to her in the presence of her mother.
‘Anna, I just wanted to say,’ Bianca says. ‘I think you’re brilliant. This is all so impressive.’ She hitches Birdie up on her hip.
‘Oh,’ I say, surprised and a little flustered. ‘Thank you.’
‘I read your first book and it was so funny, I can’t wait to start this one.’ She smiles, and I glance at Hayley, who raises her eyebrows slightly at me. Bianca is a fan of my book. We need to unpack that piece of information at a later date.
Joel steps forward.
‘Congratulations,’ he says. He looks a little wistful. ‘Have fun tonight.’
It suddenly occurs to me he wishes he could come, that he’s sad he’s missing out, that being the only couple with a child is not always fun.
‘Thanks for coming,’ I say. This is the moment we should hug goodbye, but I am holding steadfast in my personal no-hugging-him-ever-again rule. I will shake his hand if I have to.
‘And good luck,’ he adds, smiling a little. ‘With your choice.’
‘My choice?’ I say.
‘Of a man,’ he says.
I can feel my face going red.
He steps forward, close to my ear. ‘He’s obviously in love with you,’ he says quietly, then grins, and waves and leaves.
‘Who is?’ I want to yell after him. ‘Which one!?’ But I contain myself.
We have a table booked at a restaurant a block away. The original plan was for my parents, Bobbi and Jean, Patrick and me, and Hayley and Luke to have dinner together post-launch, and now Mac is coming too. I am trying to be calm and rational about this. Of course he should join us. He’s Luke’s best friend and he’s only here for a week, and he’s my, well, he’s my old friend, let’s say.
I am hoping beyond hope that Patrick somehow doesn’t recognise him as the man in the photo he gave me. A futile hope. Of course Patrick knows who he is.