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“I’ll give you a down payment for a mortgage,” she said and before she had the whole sentence out, I said, “No.”
She nodded. “Okay, I know you just got paid the twenty thousand for finishing the autobiography, and I just transferred another twenty thousand into your account for our next book—”
“Wait,what?”
“I called your mother at the bank and had the money transferred into your account—”
“Hold it.What next book?”
“Liz, I have a lot more stories, and you are the perfect collaborator. We can decide what the next book is together. I think an advice book. I know a lot about beauty and public speaking. And romance.”
I looked at her appalled. “I know nothing about romance.”
“That’s all right, you’re just writing my ideas. I put the money in your account so you wouldn’t quit on me. We can talk—”
“Okay, you want to really know what’s going on with me?” I said, mad as hell that somebody was managing me again.
“Yes,” Anemone said.
I sat down in one of the ridiculous armchairs across from her desk and she sat down in the one next to it, leaning close.
“I have never in my life had anything that was all my own,” I told her. “I lived in my mother’s house and Vince’s diner and your house and your motel and a bunch of places my clients rented for me. The closest thing I had to a space of my own was my car, and my aunt destroyed that. My career is writing other people’s stories, reliving other people’s lives. And I’ve just realized I can’t do this anymore. I’ve spent thirty-three years telling myself that I was lucky to have what I had, and I’ve just realized I’ve hadnothing. I am thirty-three years old, it’s my Jesus year, and I have nothing.” Anemone opened her mouth and I said, “No. Do not tell me I am rich in friends and loved ones. I know that. That’s not what this is about.”
Anemone closed her mouth.
“This is about a life of my own,” I said.
“Can I make one small suggestion?” Anemone said.
“One.”
“Call Ken Porter.”
Since Ken was the best real estate agent in southern Ohio, that was actually a good idea. Since he was also a good, trusted friend, it was practical. But most of all, it was concrete. If I was going to get serious about getting my own life, about getting a place of my own, Ken was the starting point.
I nodded.
“Can I say something about the next book?” Anemone said.
“No. I will transfer back the twenty thousand.”
“Rebecca wants the advice book. She’s drawing up the contract.”
Oh, hell. I closed my eyes. There was money right there in front of me, and as I’ve mentioned before, I can be bought.
Anemone stood up. “That twenty thousand stays in your account. Guilt money. You have to do the advice book with me. Come on, Liz, you didn’t really want to stop working with me, did you?”
“You are a horrible person,” I said, standing too.
“You adore me,” she said.
“Yes, I do,” I said, and got the hell out of Dodge.
CHAPTER 16
I drove straight to the place Bartlett had told us not to go. As I pulled off Rt. 52 onto the construction site road, two clowns wearing Lone Wolf vests and standing next to their Harley’s waved at me to stop. They both had ARs in hand because Ohio is an open carry state, along with its lack of helmet laws. Welcome to Ohio, good luck not dying from all your freedom. But if you need organ donations, not too shabby.
If they’d pointed the guns at me, I’d have run them over. Then backed up and done it again. But they weren’t as stupid as the legislators who’d passed the law. I stopped and powered down the window.
