Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
In her apartment above the garage, Courtney settled onto the couch to wait. She turned up the sound on all of her notifications, then set the phone down within arm’s reach. Dana’s absence had left her unsettled, making her feel that something was terribly wrong. She had the sense she should be doing something, but since there was nothing to do, she did some deep-breathing exercises and meditated for half an hour.
Get ahold of yourself, Courtney.
Breathe in, breathe out, and repeat.
When she finished meditating, Dana was still missing, but at least her heart rate was back in the normal range.
What next? She had the urge to get in the car and drive around looking for Dana, the way one would for a lost dog, but she knew that was foolish. Staying close to home and waiting to hear was her best bet. Ian hadn’t been concerned because Dana had a tendency to go her own way, but never like this. In the past, she was easily found or had texted within an hour or so. Hearing nothing at all clutched at Courtney. It was like Dana was lost in a void.
Where could she be? She paced the braided rug that covered most of the small living room, only pausing to look out the window, but there was no movement outside. Her apartment above the garage was to the side of the house, giving her a peripheral view of the big house and the fountain in front of it. Dana loved that fountain, a replica of a famous one in Paris.
Not tired or hungry, she turned to the one thing that always kept her mind occupied: writing. She settled into the recliner with her lap desk and fired up the laptop.
In minutes, she was immersed in Dana’s newest book, the manuscript that was due at the publishing house in a week, at which time it had to be free of errors. The story was finished, start to end, and she’d already gone over it several times, but for her own peace of mind, she always liked to give it a final once-over. Dana was known for turning in clean manuscripts.
Courtney loved this part of the process, seeing the story as a whole and catching small continuity errors and typos. She also loved fixing clunky sentences and weeding out word repetition. By the time the pages were ready to be emailed to the editor, it wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as she could make it. Dana’s editor, the eagle-eyed Jessica, always had high praise for their work. One time at a luncheon in Manhattan, she’d leaned over and said to her, “I wish all my authors were as fastidious as Dana. You should see some of the manuscripts that land on my desk.” She’d shaken her head, a look of dismay crossing her face. “And these are big, well-known authors. You’d be shocked if I told you their names.”
Courtney had desperately wanted to know who they were, and she had a feeling that Jessica might actually list names given a bit of prodding, but right at that moment Dana had started telling the table about a recent research trip she’d taken to a monastery, and when she held court, everyone stopped what they were doing and listened. Courtney had been on the trip to the monastery, but Dana conveniently omitted mentioning that. It had been Courtney’s idea in the first place, and she’d organized all the details. But she understood. It was a better story if it was Dana’s alone.
Right after getting the required reaction to her narrative, Dana had pulled out her purse and showed all of them what she called her “toys.” Self-defense weapons disguised as everyday items. Courtney had bought them because they played a crucial role in the newest novel, but again, her name didn’t come up at all. Oh well, that was fine. Dana was pulled toward the spotlight in the same way Courtney instinctively felt more comfortable in the shadows.
Yin and yang.
So many years together. She’d been eighteen when Dana was assigned to be her college roommate, and now both of them were thirty-six. Half their lives. Courtney was the shy, socially inept one, labeled weird in high school. A complete contrast to Dana, whose entire being overflowed with confidence. She had a magnetic personality, and the other students were drawn to her. Physically, Dana was tall and striking, with dark hair and a husky, sexy voice, while Courtney was average in every way.
Entirely forgettable.
A person would think they’d have nothing in common, but as the weeks went by, Dana began to turn down invitations to hang out with her—drab, boring Courtney. Years later, when she asked her why, Dana had thoughtfully said, “I could see something in you. Something great you didn’t even realize you had.”
Just hearing her say that was an affirmation. If Dana Broderick saw greatness in her, it was true .
The novel writing had started the first year. A pack of mean girls on their floor had taken a disliking to Courtney, which was odd, because she’d never even noticed them, much less done anything to provoke them. They acted in the vindictive way of their type, leaving nasty comments on the whiteboard hanging on their door and shoulder-bumping her when they passed in the hall.
When that didn’t get a reaction, they amped it up, starting rumors about her and stealing anything she left unattended. She learned to keep an eye on her backpack and laundry and to lock the door of their room even when she went down the hall to the bathroom. Having to be ever vigilant made her a nervous wreck. She had trouble sleeping, and she felt sick to her stomach every minute of every day.
She never told anyone and wasn’t even sure why she didn’t speak up for herself, but her best guess had to do with her upbringing. She’d had a pretty crappy childhood, and after being raised on a steady diet of guilt and shame, it somehow felt like her fault. Or her problem, anyway.
Courtney tolerated the abuse for weeks, wiping off the whiteboard comments and replacing the things they took. She’d hoped they’d tire of tormenting her, but they never did. When Dana came back from class one day and found her sobbing in bed, the whole story came out. Dana, usually preoccupied with her own life, hadn’t even been aware this had been happening, but once she found out, she took action, leaving their room and storming down the hall. Courtney never learned what she’d said to the group of girls, but the bullying completely stopped.
That night, when they were lying in their respective beds talking in the dark, Dana began telling her a fictional story of revenge. One woman against the whole pack, methodically bringing them all down, one by one. It was, Courtney thought, the greatest revenge story since The Count of Monte Cristo.
When she came to the end, Courtney knew, just knew, that Dana’s fictitious story was meant to be a crime novel, and like every great crime novel, it would be solved by a whip-smart outsider. She’d never been so certain of anything in her life. She’d immediately sat up, turned on the light, grabbed her laptop, and began furiously outlining. Dana wasn’t all that interested at first, but Courtney couldn’t let it go. She kept at it, and little by little the bare bones of the story filled in and the character of Rebecca Cavanaugh came to life.
They continued working on it over the next three years, and by the time they graduated, it was a complete novel, the beginning of what would become a bestselling series. It took another year for them to get an agent and a publishing deal, but when it finally went through, the six-figure advance enabled them to quit their boring entry-level business jobs and settle in to write the second book in the series. Dana Broderick was officially a novelist, while Courtney was her well-paid assistant. Together, they were a great team.
It helped that the hero of the series, Rebecca Cavanaugh, was a replica of Dana in looks and personality, but with an extra dose of wit and cunning. The character had a real take-charge way about her and encountered misdeeds everywhere she went. She occasionally had a love interest, but he never lasted long. She lived for travel and adventure. Another similarity? Like Dana, Rebecca had no money worries, having come from a wealthy family. Readers loved that Dana and Rebecca were so much alike, and the internet was full of reader discussions attempting to sift out the facts from the fiction.
Rebecca Cavanaugh was Nancy Drew for grown-ups, if Nancy Drew were a lot more kick-ass.
After the second book, the series really took off, and that’s when Ian came on board, replacing Dana’s original agent. Ever since then, every book had gone to the top of the sales charts. Instant bestsellers. The series had been translated into more than forty languages and held records for audiobook and e-book downloads.
Dana had appeared on every talk show and awards ceremony. She took to fame like it was her calling.
Ian had a knack for finding ways to profit off the series. He’d created an online store for Rebecca Cavanaugh merchandise—coffee mugs, cloth grocery bags, mouse pads—all that and more. Courtney had been dubious about the merch page. Did anyone really need a cloth grocery bag with Rebecca Cavanaugh book covers imprinted on it? She didn’t think so, but she’d been wrong. They sold like crazy.
The only revenue stream Ian hadn’t been able to crack was movie rights. He’d been in talks with people in Hollywood for years, but Dana had already vetoed several deals for one reason or another, much to his frustration.
But that’s just how Dana was. Contrary. He was her brother, so it couldn’t be a surprise to him. Plus, there was plenty of money coming in from other revenue streams, so he could hardly complain.
By midnight, Courtney had done her last pass through the manuscript. She labeled it “Final copy” and mentally considered it finished. Book number seventeen of the Rebecca Cavanaugh series, locked and loaded. This one was exceptional. She hoped readers would love reading it as much as they’d enjoyed working on it. She closed the laptop and set it aside.
Now that she didn’t have the writing to distract her, her anxiety returned. There was no way she could change into pajamas and go to bed when Dana was still unaccounted for, so she shut off the lamp and settled down to rest on the couch, her phone next to her on the coffee table.
Hopefully, she’d hear from Dana soon.