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The blurb itself was less than impressive and would have to be re-written, but he could leave that to the last. The book itself seemed to be a gay romance—something that was only vaguely surprising now that the traditional market for things outside of cis, hetero-romance was picking up. But there was nothing striking about the tale. Two men who fall in love, fall apart, and find their happily ever after.
He’d read it a thousand times.
With a sigh, he went back to the bio.
C.S. Roman livesin Northern California where he received his graduate degree in English. He’s currently a professor at San Francisco State University, teaching literature and creative writing.
Oliver foundthat information oddly specific, as most of the authors writing under pennames preferred to keep details like that out of their bio. But to each their own, he supposed.
Clicking open the manuscript, Oliver sat back with his tea, and his eyes began to scan the words. The language and writing were an almost physical relief, he realized within the first few paragraphs. A few misplaced commas here and there were nothing like the constant passive language and run-on sentences he’d been dealing with over the last few weeks.
The author’s prose was just short of poetic, not over-worded, and not patronizing. The book opened with the introduction of a young man getting ready to start his first semester of college, and holding a secret so tightly, even the reader couldn’t know right away.
He liked it almost immediately. Resigning himself to doing far more than just a few minutes of work that night, he settled in for the long haul. He was grateful to finally have some decent work, and something that made taking this job worth it.
Twenty-Nine
Oliver was all-but trembling when he walked into the office the next morning. It was more than obvious he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, and while he would have loved to blame it on the fact that the book was so good—and it was—it went a little deeper than that.
Bursting into Jake’s office, he sank into one of the chairs near his desk and waited for his boss to finish up his phone call. Jake gave Oliver a wary look, but hurried off the call, cradling the phone very carefully before leaning over the desk.
“Problem?”
Clearing his throat, Oliver said, “Big one. Er, well…might be. Might be a big one. You know that book I nicked from Kristen? From the new author?”
“Roman, yeah. What about it? I read the thing and I know it’s good, so—”
“It’s not that.” Oliver cleared his throat. “You know him in person? You ever met him?”
“No. He was out of the country when we got the approval, so his agent came in to negotiate for him. Is there a problem here?”
“Yeah, I erm…” Oliver cleared his throat. “I have to give it back to Kristen. I’ll take that fucking vampire book back.”
“Why?” Jake pressed. “I thought someone like you would actually like Roman’s book.”
Letting out a high-pitched laugh, Oliver sat back and covered his face. That was exactly the problem with the book. Someone like him. Exactly him, to be specific. It had only taken him three chapters to realize what he was reading. Three chapters to know where the book was going to end, and what was going to happen to the characters. Three chapters to know he was probably never supposed to read it.
At least, not like this.
“There may be a conflict of interest,” Oliver said, speaking through his fingers. He cleared his throat and attempted to sit up and look professional lest this get back to his father and he be dragged down to Ren’s office for a chat.
“Why? You know the author?”
“I think so. I think,” Oliver stopped, hesitating with his words because how did he possibly reveal that he was fairly sure C.S. Roman was Gabriel Bensaïd, and that the character by the name of Oscar was, in fact, Oliver. “I think this book is about me. Me and him, actually. I think Roman is my ex.”
Jake looked at him for a long time, then threw his head back and laughed. “Really fucking funny, Sasaki. But I’m too goddamn busy to…”
“Gabriel Bensaïd,” Oliver said, and Jake’s laughter abruptly stopped. Licking his lips, he sighed. “I knew about thirty pages in where it was going.” He scrubbed his hand down his face again. “The whole thing is our story.”
Jake’s eyes widened. “You’re serious? You’re not shitting me right now?”
Oliver shook his head, feeling miserable and aching. It had been a long time since he’d let himself really think about Gabriel. A long time since that hollow ache made itself known in his chest. He had something of Gabriel’s now, close enough to touch him, but still so far away. “I haven’t spoken to him in years. I don’t even think he knows whose publishing house this is.”
Jake licked his lips. “Well fuck me, Sasaki. Are you going to put up a fight about this? About the content of the book?”
Oliver startled in his seat, sitting up straighter. “Put up a…?” He hadn’t even considered that, not even for a second. It wasn’t just his own story being told, really. It was Gabriel’s, and the ending showed at the very least, Gabriel had been able to move on. “God, no! No, it’s not that. I was just thinking that maybe I should talk to him,” his mouth blurted before his mind could catch up. “To let him know that I’ve read the book. Tell him who, exactly, he’s signed on to publish with.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jake said, shaking his head hard. “No, I don’t…”
