Chapter 8
“Debut novelist Beckett Nash’s THE BEGINNING OF EVERYTHING, a coming-of-age story about a whirlwind, weeklong love affair on a tropical island that forces a vacationing bachelor to reconsider his entire life path, to Audrey Beringer at Hudson Yards Publishing, in a significant deal, at auction, by Shelby Finn at First Draft Literary Agency. ”
A significant deal? I wondered.
I wanted to run down to the music room and wave my cell phone in my mom’s face, howling about how the guy we met in Aruba was going to become a big deal in the literary world.
Obviously, that was not an option.
Instead, I threw the rest of my granola bar in the trash and closed my eyes, trying very hard to tune out the din of nearby classes that were in session and the sound of the toilet flushing in the faculty bathroom.
I controlled my breathing while counting to thirty in my head, a practice I learned on TikTok in a grief management tutorial.
Well, I told myself, I guess he did it.
I didn’t really consider the fact that the storyline had changed from what he told me. Beckett said he was writing a family drama, but looking back, I guess I supposed that “coming-of-age” could also be classified as family drama, depending on the supporting characters.
Publishers Marketplace did not clarify that this was a romance novel.
No, that much I learned from Kirkus, actually, and it was almost a year later when it happened.
My publicist, Adriana, called Evan around Thanksgiving to ask if I was emotionally sound enough to receive some bad news.
(This would later become a refrain, not just from Adriana, but from Jax and even Evan himself in the months to come.) Evan decided to field the news for me, so I received the watered-down version of the fact that, apparently, Beckett’s story was entirely similar to Holiday Island, at least based on early intel.
It was getting tremendous accolades in the trades, including a starred review from Publishers Weekly, Booklist, and Kirkus.
Ev was able to snag an e-copy via NetGalley, and upon reading it, he called me, emotionally sound feelings be damned.
“Mel,” he said. “We need to talk about Beckett Nash.”
I sighed, trying to ignore the churning in my stomach that still happened when I heard his name. “What about him?”
“I read his book.”
“And?”
“It’s too similar to be a coincidence.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, first of all, it’s a romance. Pure and simple. And straight-men-writing-romance is not really a commonplace thing, so it’s getting him a lot of, well… Let’s just say, people are paying attention.”
“Um, okay,” I replied, failing to see the issue.
“There’s more, though,” he said, swallowing. “The sex scenes. They’re exactly the same as yours.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I was. Three scenes in total. The first one takes place in a casino bathroom, the second is at the outdoor spa after closing time, and the third one is in a very fancy bungalow.”
At this, I went quiet.
“You understand what this means, right?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Beckett Nash’s novel comes out on May first. Yours doesn’t come out until the end of July. And if they’re too similar…” His voice trailed off, but my brain began to compute the rest.
“Jesus, Evan,” I seethed.
“I’m going to talk to Jax about changing your release date,” he said.
“Pushing it up or pushing it back?”
“Up, I think. As far as possible. The closer to his release you are, the less likely readers will be to think you stole anything from him.”
“But I have a whole bunch of marketing events booked for July and August. And, sidebar, I didn’t steal a single word of that man’s novel.”
“Obviously, I know that. But readers don’t know how the industry works—how saturated, how few tropes, how stories all start to sound like one another after a while,” he continued.
“It’ll be fine. Summer’s a whole season.
If we can push you to May, I’ll work with Jax and Adriana to book more events.
You can handle a few more in May and June, right? ”
“I mean, I don’t love it, since that’s during the school year.”
“We’ll do weekends. Night stuff will only be local. I’ll help you. We’ll make it work.”
I sighed. “Okay,” I agreed. “Whatever you think is best.”
“Thanks, Mel. Now, I have to ask you something.”
“What?”
“It’s a friend question, not an agent question,” he warned.
“Go ahead.”
“Did you have a torrid and salacious sex trip with this man and fail to tell me about it?” Evan giggled.
“No, Ev,” I said, shaking my head.
“Then how on earth did you both write the same three very obscurely set love scenes in the exact same order? Also, I now find it curious that you named your love interest Nash.”
“Evan,” I muttered, feeling a sharp twist in my gut.
“Yeah?”
I could barely manage to get the words out. “He was the guy from the Aruba trip.”
“The one where—”
“Yes,” I cut him off.
“Oh,” he replied, way less enthused this time. “Shit, Mel. I had no idea.”
“Yeah,” I whispered.
After a long pause, Evan said, “Well, fuck him. I mean, right?”
I nodded, but Evan couldn’t hear that through the phone.
***
It’s 4:00 p.m. on the last Monday of the school year when I finally make my decision. I wait until I’m settled in at home to dial Evan’s number.
I don’t even bother with his office line anymore. I call the cell, and he picks up almost instantly. “Hey, Mel,” he chirps.
“I’ll do it,” I blurt out. “The People magazine thing.”
My ears are assaulted by a cross between a gasp and a shriek. “You will?” he cries.
“On one condition.”
“Anything. What is it?”
“I need to speak to him alone first.”
“Of course.”
“So I need you to get me his number.”
“Consider it done. I’ll get it from Shelby and text it to you ASAP.”
“Good,” I say. “Thank you.” This sounds like a declaration, a far cry from what someone might sound like if this decision were, indeed, good.
His merriment waned. “You okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine, Ev.”
“You sure? You don’t sound fine.”
“You know what it is? My name is being dragged through the mud right now, and I’m too spent to even care the way that I should.
Beckett and I have unfinished business. I can’t imagine seeing him out of the blue after everything we’ve been through and just having some professional—not to mention, recorded—conversation.
So, I want to talk to him first. I have questions that I need answers to. ”
“I think that’s totally fair. And, listen, I want you to know that I’ll be there for the People thing if you need me. I’m here for you in whatever way you need. I want you to know that.”
“I know, and I appreciate you for it. More than you know.”
“You know I love you, Mel. You’ve always been one of my favorite people to work with.”
Within an hour, I have something I got rid of two and a half years ago: Beckett Nash’s cell phone number.