“Her phrasing. The words she used,” I said. “Any of it remind you of Book Babe?”
Melanie Joan laughed for a full thirty seconds.
“I’m serious,” I said, once she caught her breath. “Did she ever use words likebrave,revelatory,aspirational?”
“You think Natalie Blythe is Book Babe.”
“I think it’s possible,” I said.
“She can’t even read a script in its entirety.”
I shrugged elaborately, as though she could see me through the phone. “Book Babe’s review ofStronger Alonespecifically mentions the actress you talk about in the prologue. It says that she is more talented, intelligent, and good-hearted than you.”
“I’m familiar with the review, Sunny.”
“It also says the actress has grounds for a lawsuit.”
“So what?”
“So,” I said, “did Natalie Blythe ever try to sue?”
Rosie woke up from her nap, slithered out from under Blake’s desk, and trotted back into my office. Her nails clacked on the hardwood floors. I reminded myself to trim them. “She did try to sue,” Melanie Joan said.
“What happened with it?”
“It went nowhere. A few days after I fired her, I heard from her lawyer. Her lawyer heard from my legal team. End of story.”
“One more question,” I said. “Does Natalie Blythe have a young child? A three-year-old?”
“Sunny, I haven’t even said her name out loud in the past four years,” Melanie Joan said. “How the hell would I know anything about her personal life?” She started trashing Natalie Blythe—telling me how her unprofessionalism nearly torpedoed the Netflix series, and how, up until that final conversation in Natalie’s trailer, Melanie Joan had been speaking to the actress only through intermediaries. “Do you have any idea how difficult that was?” she said. “I was the executive producer. The big kahuna, Sunny. Yet I had to rely on others to communicate with my lead actress. Oh, and did I mention she stole clothing from wardrobe?”
“You did.”
“Yeah, well. She stole shoes, too.”
“Horrible,” I said. “But it all points to something that Natalie Blythe does have going for her.”
“Kleptomania?”
“Motive.”
“Oh.”
“Think about it,” I said. “Book Babe is a romance reader. She doesn’t review any of your fiction, but she does praise your competitors—Julia Quinn, Colleen Hoover, Leila Donnelly in particular. She’s given all her books five stars.”
“Ugh.”
“Then she gets her hands on a galley of your book. A memoir that trashes Natalie Blythe in the first chapter. She gives it her only one-star review.”
Melanie Joan went quiet again. I checked my phone to make sure we were still connected. “That was Book Babe’s only one-star review?”
“Yep.”
“Wow.”
“Her most personal one, too.”
Melanie Joan exhaled. “You know what?”
