Epilogue
“I was not scared,” Juliette said, stalking around her office. “I was pissed, outraged, and ultimately right. In that order. But I was definitely not scared.”
“We’re just trying to connect to your readers,” Kate said soothingly, banging away at her keyboard where she’d set up shop in one of Juliette’s guest chairs.
She’d tried to sit in Juliette’s chair during their first working session and quickly learned the folly of that choice.
“I know you weren’t scared, but the average reader will want to experience the story through your eyes, and they would have been terrified. ”
“Just because we were on a boat that had been hot-wired to full speed so we would crash in a fiery blaze in the middle of the ocean?” Juliette scoffed. “That’s the worst time to be terrified. Fine, write whatever you want. I’m just going to edit you later.”
“You’re not my editor,” Kate hummed under her breath, but she deleted the word. “Can we say you were worried? Contemplating your existence? Facing your mortality?”
“You can say I was tactically calculating our options,” Juliette said, as if she were doing Kate a favor.
“You were puking all over the boat,” Kate pointed out dryly.
“That was after,” Juliette snapped.
Veeta stepped into the office, eyes glued to an iPad. “Say that she could feel terror lapping at her feet, but she didn’t have time to be scared. She had to save her friends first. She could contemplate the brutality of existence later.”
“That’s good,” Juliette said. “Write that.”
“That’s basically what I said,” Kate muttered.
“You make this writing business look a lot harder than it actually is,” Veeta said, glancing up.
“Juliette, you’ve got the phone interview with People at two, the investor happy hour with Simon at four, and you’re catching the red-eye to New York for the Today Show interview at eleven.
Brigitte Ellingham also sent over an invitation to the Pacific Pines reopening next week.
Clayton Westminster is refusing our release requests so far, but I’ve taken the liberty of sending an early bound copy of the book to his prison cell.
Once he reads what we’ve written of him, I think he’ll get a lot more loose-lipped about his role in the whole ordeal.
The man has certainly done enough TV interviews about what a criminal genius he was.
Don’t expect the Piedmonts to agree, though.
Last I heard, they’ve moved to Vienna to escape the scandal.
Oh, and Detective Marks said we could interview him for the book but he insisted anyone but you do the interview.
Apparently, the sound of your voice ‘triggers his sciatica.’”
“Such a diva,” Juliette said with an eye roll. “Kennedy can do it. People will tell her anything, it’s compulsive. Ken!”
Kennedy stopped mid-stride as she passed Juliette’s office, popping her head in the door. “Did I miss a strategy session for the new book?”
“We’re supposed to be drafting,” Kate said, looking at Juliette expectantly. “We’ve made it to the big climax, but someone is getting distracted.”
“This is the life of an internet celebrity, Kate,” Juliette said. “When police footage of you confronting a killer goes viral, you ride that wave to a bestselling book to replace the tell-all memoir that never was. Which we’re supposed to be drafting, Kate.”
“What?” Kate asked. “I just said—”
“I’ll order lunch from the dumpling place,” Veeta said soothingly.
“Ooh, dumplings?” Kate said, mollified.
“Juliette already has lunch plans, actually,” said a strong, smooth voice as Charlie Hawkins filled the door.
He still wore his boxy white lab coat, but beneath he wore a sleek lavender button-down and a pair of tapered slate gray slacks that showed off his athletic frame.
He leaned against the doorframe, smiling softly at Juliette.
Juliette turned to Kate. “Charlie is here.”
“I see that,” Kate said, still typing. “Hi, Charlie.”
“Hi, Kate,” Charlie said, looking amused.
Juliette cleared her throat pointedly. Kate looked up, confused. “What?”
“Charlie is here,” Juliette repeated. “That means you get out.”
“Got it. Winky wink. I hear you, loud and clear. I’ll just give this the old Kate Valentine spit shine and send it over to Spencer. Have a good ‘lunch,’ you two.”
Kate hustled out of the office as Juliette pulled Charlie into a kiss. One of her first orders of business as COO of Simon Says had been to insist Simon install blinds. Everyone deserved a bit of privacy, which Juliette used to full effect as she sank into their kiss.
“I did intend to feed you,” Charlie murmured between long, luxurious kisses.
“Oh, you are,” Juliette said, nodding, as she pulled at the edge of his shirt to slide her hands against his bare stomach.
“Food, Juliette,” he laughed, the noise rumbling through her. “Actual sustenance.”
“Mm, this is far more sustaining,” she said with a sigh.
“How is the book coming along?” Charlie asked, kissing along her jawline.
“We can’t get it out fast enough,” Juliette said, dropping her head back.
“The true crime story of the century, you have to read it to believe it. It’s got all the elements—exclusive country club, old money family drama, a deviously clever murder overlooked by the police, a beautiful, intrepid investigator who won’t let the case go.
We’re talking to three different studios about movie rights.
And with all the attention, we’ve suddenly got investors looking to provide Simon Says with a much-needed cash infusion to keep production going. ”
“Sounds like a very full plate. I’m assuming you’ve put it all on social media.”
“Oh, I’ve already sent my regrets for the high school reunion via Instagram,” Juliette said, nipping Charlie’s neck. He groaned, waking up every nerve ending in her body in electric anticipation. “I’ll be shooting a Dateline special on the same day.”
“Juniper must be livid,” Charlie said.
“I don’t actually know what Juniper thinks. I unfollowed her. I don’t have time for old regrets. I have new ones to make.”
“Not me, I hope,” Charlie said.
“Not you, Charlie Hawkins,” she said, dead serious. “I’ll never regret you.”
“Not even if you’re saddled with Doctor Dud?” And even though his tone made it sound like a joke, she knew Charlie well enough now to hear the note of uncertainty beneath it. But it didn’t scare her anymore. She put a hand to his cheek, pulling his head up and locking her gaze with him.
“The Juliette who called you that was an emotionally repressed idiot. You are the least dud-ley person I’ve ever met, and I will spend the rest of my life proving it if I have to. Now, are you taking me home for lunch to do unspeakable things to me, or do I have to do them to myself?”
“Never let it be said that I would deny a lady,” said Charlie, sweeping his hand toward the door. “Shall we?”
“We definitely shall,” Juliette said.