Page 14 of Reckless

Now I see what she means about it taking longer, although I’m not sure she needs to go this slowly. She was going much faster last night when she drove past me. Is she stalling?

“So what kind of books do you write?”

“Suspense, thrillers, murder mystery type.”

“Do you have any of your books here?”

“No. Even though I write while I’m on the road, I keep the business side of things away. The books for the convention are being shipped straight there. My PA makes sure everything is where it’s supposed to be. I couldn’t manage without her. She runs my life.”

“Doesn’t sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not. We’re friends too, so that helps.”

“Can you buy your books online?”

“Yeah, or any bookstore stocks most of them too. The older ones, anyway. My more recent books are online.”

“That’s because you went indie,” I nod, recalling what she said earlier. “Are you working on a book right now?”

Her laptop is on the dining table with a notepad and some other papers next to it. I almost looked through it on the way back from the bathroom.

I reprimanded myself for that. I’d hate the thought of something rifling through my song book. I can’t do it to her.

“I am. I’m about halfway through. I’ve gone in a different direction though.”

“Yeah?”

“Heavier on the romance,” she admits, looking anxious.

“Isn’t that a big thing right now?” I ask.

I’m not unaware of the current craze for appropriating celebrities’ images to fit the book boyfriend criteria. Hell, half of the bullshit I get from the crazy fans is women casting me as book characters. The number of comments on the band’s social media about how I’m this guy, or that guy, is part of the bullshit I wish would go the fuck away. It wouldn’t have bothered me six months ago. I’d been ignoring it, but my brain can’t cope with the scrutiny and sheer volume of it.

Men don’t particularly like being sexualized either. At least I don’t.

“Yeah, I don’t intend on going full romance. It’s a little more than I would usually write. Anyway, enough about me. Do you know what you’re going to do once you catch up with your manager?”

“I know what I don’t want to do. Go with him,” I add.

“You don’t have to,” she glances at the radio when one of our older tracks comes on.

I wink, but pick up her phone and skip it. It’s not that I don’t like my own music, I don’t want the reminder right now.

“What else am I gonna do?”

“There must be someone you can call. Or at least let him take you to where they are. We’re kind of in the middle of nowhere.”

Solene, our drummer, was the logical person to call. She’d fix this in a heartbeat. I wonder if Cody has let them know I pulled a disappearing act. Losing my phone last night doesn’t help either.

“Why are you in the middle of nowhere?” Krista interrupts my thoughts as she slows down for an exit.

You can’t miss the sign for the rest stop. Luckily, it’s still a little further away.

“You ever heard of Bill Jane?”

She shakes her head after thinking for a moment.

Not surprising, I guess. “He’s a record producer.”

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