Chapter 43
THE ROYCE HOTEL, MANHATTAN
‘So, have we covered everything now?’ Gabriella asked, getting up from her position at the table Cheyenne had set up like it was a boardroom not a hotel room.
She and Phoebe had left the Christmas market shortly after Luca because, despite reassuring her niece that everything was OK, it was the only thing on the teenager’s mind.
And, after a dressing down from Cheyenne about their disappearing act, the publicist had launched into interview strategy like she was advising an errant member of the royal family.
‘I don’t know, Gabriella, you tell me,’ Cheyenne said, staring intently over her iPad.
Cheyenne was a fan of the question spin; Gabriella was not. ‘I don’t think there’s a question I could be asked that I’m not prepared for.’
‘Really?’ Cheyenne said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Because at the library I thought you were going to melt like a cheap candle at midnight mass. Deer in the headlights comes to mind.’
‘Uncalled for,’ Gabriella said. ‘And false.’
Cheyenne sighed. ‘Gabriella, as much as All Chapters are committed to supporting your restricted questions agenda, we do consider it a hindrance to the book’s sales potential and we can’t guarantee the same if there’s a book two.’
‘If?’ It wasn’t the first time that her publicist had said that.
OK, the contract wasn’t signed, but she was halfway to having something she thought was good enough to move forward with and this visit to New York was because sales were taking off this side of the Atlantic and that was the publishing dream.
‘You know nothing is concrete and we really need to think very carefully about curating the content.’ Cheyenne took a breath and hit Gabriella with an intense look. ‘All Chapters wonders if it’s time for the shock factor.’
Gabriella blinked and then frowned. ‘You’ve lost me.’
‘I know you wanted more of Lulu’s story in Zero Fucks Given and I know that we have thinned her essence slightly in this new edition, but with good reason.’
Gabriella felt a creeping sensation of unease spread across her shoulders like the winter breeze was coming in through the closed balcony doors. She put a hand to the back of the chair like she needed to hold onto something. Her other hand went to the chain around her neck.
‘All Chapters want more of what happened that night. The mystery… and the intrigue… and the build up to catastrophe so the readers can feel and resonate with the kind of mental trauma your family has gone through.’
Gabriella was hearing the words Cheyenne was saying and they were hitting like darts, sharp, invasive and her heart was trying to deflect the attack at the same time it was pulsing with pain at the way the publicist was talking, like what happened to Lulu was clickbait.
‘We’re toying with the possibility of a trilogy of books but you would have to agree and commit to be more open about the tragedy.
Book two would be Zero Fucks Driven – what makes a young talented woman with all the opportunities of the world at her feet “fall” from a balcony and coaching skills to help others in a similar situation choose an alternative outcome.
Then, book three, Zero Fucks Enliven, to really finish on positive choices over negative actions.
How you have taken on Phoebe to ensure she doesn’t end up being swallowed by her own grief. ’
It was hideous. With every fresh sentence, Gabriella’s skin felt like it was being blowtorched away from her bones, braising, burning, baring. ‘Mystery and intrigue,’ she said in a vicious whisper.
‘Yes,’ Cheyenne said, nodding. ‘No one really knows what happened that night. I know it was reported as an accident but, reading between the lines, most people think there was more to it.’ She seemed to deepen her gaze. ‘But only one person knows the truth and… that’s you.’
She couldn’t have this conversation. It was a threat to everything she was trying to maintain – the image of the intelligent, creative sister who’d had a flame that had burned so brightly, her own life equilibrium, Phoebe.
She couldn’t stay here. It was like the walls of the suite were closing in and they were going to crush her and the memory of her sister.
‘You know what, Cheyenne? If you want mystery and intrigue, you can spend the rest of the night here looking after Phoebe, wondering where I am and if I’m even going to come back.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah and, another thing, I do give a fuck. So here’s one for you.’ She stuck up her middle finger. ‘Fuck you!’
And, without saying anything else, Gabriella picked up her coat and stormed from the room.