Writing A Wrong (Write Stuff 2)

"They're TV interviews? You're kidding me, right? Why me?"

"Because you're not like everyone else. When other people our age, people we know, cared more about parties, chasing ass, and trying to stay awake in classes, you were busy writing and publishing bestselling books."

"You make it sound way cooler than it actually is. What it boils down to is I'm a total college recluse who got lucky."

"Lucky? Don't be a douche-mouth. I'll drive over there and kick your ass. I think what you mean to say is you have an ass-ton of talent and you worked hard. Stop shortchanging yourself."

I smiled ruefully. Olivia was loyal to the core. That's why we were best friends. She always had my back. She might have rose-colored glasses where I was concerned, but I still loved her guts. Liv was my person. "How many interviews are we talking?"

"Two by yourself and then a live video chat with the other three authors."

I gulped. That might work, I guess. Just the one interview with the other authors would have been fine b

y me. Better yet, none would be the best. "Who are the other authors?"

She rattled off the names and I was pleased to know that two of them were actual friends of mine. That would make the tour bearable and more fun.

"So what dates are we looking at?"

"Right after the first of the year. To give you time to finish and turn in this next book."

I nodded. At least it was after the holidays and after I met my deadline. "That works. How long are we talking?" I was guessing a month or so, which would definitely suck, but it would be manageable.

Olivia remained silent. I pulled the phone away from my ear, thinking maybe I had lost my signal or something.

"Liv?" She was still on the line, just not answering. Obviously she hadn't given me the really bad news yet.

"Two and a half months," she finally answered.

She had to be screwing with me. "What? I can't be gone for two and a half months. I have a deadline for my next series. Not to mention all the other projects I have on hold." I refrained from mentioning the real reason I couldn't leave for that long. That reason had left his sweatshirt draped over one of the barstools at the kitchen counter. There was no way I could leave Alec for two and a half months.

"They understand it might cause a couple of wrinkles, but they'd really like you to get behind this."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose to try and ease the headache that was beginning to develop between my eyes. "Meaning I don't have a choice."

"Of course you have a choice. They'd just like your decision to swing in their favor. I know it'll be tough, Nic, but I can join you for the first leg of the trip. The way they're talking, this isn't just a regular bus. We're talking rock star kind of shit, like with areas for all of you to write. And you'll still be at a hotel each night."

My eyes remained on Alec's sweatshirt as Olivia rattled on. A steady ache had spread across my chest. Two and a half months was practically a quarter of a year.

Olivia was still talking, but I tuned her out. Only when she mentioned Alec's name did I snap back to attention. "I know you'll miss your eye candy, but maybe Alec can fly in for a couple of the events."

"I doubt it. Not with school and work," I said with a heavy heart.

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder?"

I didn't laugh. "When do they want me to leave exactly?"

"The first of January. Sorry, Nicole. I know that'll put a damper on your New Year's Eve plans, but they want you in New York City for Good Morning America the following morning. You'll be in the city for two weeks where you'll have meetings with the publishing house and your editor. Jillian will be flying in that week also."

"Good Morning America? No fucking way."

"What? I said TV interviews," Olivia said, trying not to laugh at my expense through the phone.

"Yeah, but I thought you meant, like, local station stuff like I did here. Why would they want me? It doesn't make any sense." My head suddenly felt like an overinflated balloon on the verge of popping. I would rather jump off the Brooklyn Bridge when I got to New York than embarrass myself on national TV.

"We're not going through this again. Face it, Nic. People like your books. Give yourself some credit. Besides, you'll have Jillian there to take care of everything." I reluctantly nodded my head even though Olivia couldn't see me. It made sense that Jillian would want to be there for the meeting with my publishing house. I just hope she'll be prepared to drug me to get me in studio for the interview. "Okay," I said simply. This was part of my job. Meeting and interacting with readers was perhaps the most important part of being an author.

"You're cool then?" She sounded surprised that I had conceded without more of a fight.