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Who said this book release couldn’t be great? Who said I couldn’t become a successful author? Who said that while my best friend was rising in fame, I couldn't go with her?
Apart from Peter’s family, I mean.
Plenty of people had found immediate success after releasing their first book or song or movie. Just look at Angels of the Silences. The four original band members—Dylan, Dave, Simon, and a guy named Travis—had gone straight from high school graduation to begin a career in music after their first song hit the airwaves and took off like a jet. Within months, they had been selling out stadiums and making millions, and if it could happen for them, why not me?
So, I attempted to build a social media following to kick-start my career. It wasn’t easy when I didn’t yet have a book to offer the readers I was connecting with, but I was trying with witty anecdotes and pictures of my one-eyed cat.
Then, I built a website with a few short stories I'd written years ago as a hobby, wrote a few blog posts, and posted more pictures of that one-eyed cat. Just to give those readers something to hold them over until the book hit their e-readers and shelves.
And it was working.
Somehow, in just a few short weeks, I had managed to build a following of over two thousand people across various social media platforms. It wasn't a huge number, and I wasn't going to hit any best-seller lists, but it was a start.
“So, you got the edits back?” Mom asked me one night over dinner.
Connor reached across the table and grabbed the bucket of fried chicken. “Yeah, didn't you get them back yesterday?” he asked, pulling out a few pieces of dark meat before passing the bucket to Sammy.
“Yeah,” I replied, gingerly picking the meat off a bone with my fingers. It was a messy job, but when you couldn’t visually discern between meat and bone, you did what you had to do. “She sent them over last night.”
“And how is it? Do you have a lot of rewriting to do?” Mom asked, biting her lip with anxious anticipation and excitement.
She couldn't wait to call me a published author, and I had to say, the feeling was mutual.
“It's not too bad,” I said, shrugging one shoulder. “There are some things I need to rework, but I can probably have it done in the next week or so.”
“When are you gonna publish it?” Dad asked while lifting his beer bottle to his lips. He knocked it back and took a pull, then said, “A couple of my buddies were asking about it today at the bowling alley. They want to buy it and have you sign their copies.”
I snorted quietly at the thought of my father's seventy-year-old friends buying and reading my steamy romance-slash-horror novel before answering, “I was thinking about next month.”
Mom nodded with enthusiasm. “Any idea what day?”
Shrugging, I grabbed a fry from my plate. “I'm not sure. I have to think about it.”
It was a gentle fib. Ihadthought about it. A lot in fact.
Next month was October, and October 10 was a monumental day in my life.
I’d last seen Angels of the Silences in concert on October 10 five years ago, just hours before Dylan's world was shaken and changed forever.
Then, a year ago, exactly four years after his accident, I’d met him and spent the night in his hotel room.
Now, five years after his brush with death, he was celebrating the enormous win of his biggest record. The day felt sentimental and bittersweet—to see how far he had come—and I liked the idea of celebrating something of my own. Something sweeter than the sad, traumatic events from five years ago.
I just didn't want to commit to it, not knowing how Dylan would feel about it … if he'd feel anything at all.
So, later that night, after an hour of grueling edits, I pulled out my phone to ask him.
Me: Hey, are you able to talk for a few minutes?
I didn't expect to hear anything right away. They had a show tonight, and it was only a little past eleven. They’d still be playing—or at the very least, just leaving the stage. So, I put the phone down to get back to work on what I hadn't realized would be such a stressful, tedious task when I was startled by the vibrating of an incoming call.
Grabbing the phone, I almost didn't expect for it to be Dylan, only to find that it was.
“Hello?” I answered and was instantly greeted by the roar of cheering and applause.
“Hey!” he shouted into the phone. “What's up?!”
Slow realization overcame me as my smile spread across my face. “Are you still on stage right now?”
