Page 4 of All Signs Point to Malibu

Alice deserves all the credit her books have garnered from readers and critics alike. Her creativity in coming up with new, fresh ways to kill people in the kitchen is actually terrifying. Alice doesn’t host many dinner parties.

“But the books are fan favorites and your publisher is supporting them. You’ve reached every goal we—you—set for yourself since we launched the career plan.” Not an easy feat. When I first started working with Alice, her originality needed to be reined in a little to secure that first six-figure deal.

“But I wasn’t sold on the idea back then either. It was your suggestion to try the mystery genre.”

I remember that glimpse well. Alice had pitched her sci-fi Western romance at our first meeting in the gyno office waiting room. Taking her hand in mine that day, I really wanted to see that the outside-the-box series would be wildly popular, but my glimpse into her future wasn’t so promising...

Inside a busy, popular bookstore, a banner announced Author Meet & Greets. A nervous-looking Alice sat at a table, a stack of sci-fi Western romance books in front of her. No one approached.

A few feet away, a mystery author sat with a long line of customers eager to get their signed copy of the latest Murder by Recipe book.

I smile gently at Alice now. “And it worked.”

Though maybe not so well for the other author I borrowed the idea from.

Ripple effects = anxiety attacks.

I pause for a breath before delivering advice I know she’s not going to like. “Alice, I know you want to write the book of your heart, but the Cookbook Murder series are the books people want to read...and—” perhaps more importantly “—your editor wants to contract.”

Alice sighs, her shoulders slump, deflated.

Offering advice contrary to what people want to hear has a soul-sucking effect that I try to avoid at all costs. That, along with the nagging voice in my mind that says,What if I’m wrong? Will I have dashed their dreams for no reason?

“I don’t think I have passion for it anymore,” Alice says, standing. Approaching my bookshelf, she rearranges the books by alphabetical order. She would make a fantastic organizer if she ever considers a career change.

“Passion is a big part in creating, but to be successful long-term...”

“I need to treat it as a business. I know.” She stops organizing and sighs. “I should be grateful to be doing what I love.”

Nope. We are not going to slip into that territory. Alice is an incredible writer, subject to imposter syndrome. If she gets sucked into this self-confidence quicksand, it could be weeks before she resurfaces, and her publicist has a full launch schedule planned.

“No. You should be proud. You did the work and now you’re reaping the rewards. And I’m not saying don’t write the sci-fi, I’m just saying do it for yourself. Maybe self-pub it under a pen name and see if it sells...” Safe enough not to destroy the career she’s worked so hard to build.

Alice looks disheartened. “Good idea. That’s what I’ll do.”

Soul. Sucking.

I stand and move around the desk toward her. I hesitate, but she needs this. More so,Ineed this reassurance that I’m still sending her down the right path. Under the pretense of a friendly gesture, I extend my hands and Alice reaches out to take them. I rotate our palms so that our lifelines touch and connect. Energy flows between us and, breaking my own rules, I sneak another glimpse into Alice’s future.

A book publishing event is in full swing in a beautifully decorated hotel ballroom. Elegantly dressed guests are in attendance. Champagne flows freely and a dessert bar features offerings too pretty to eat.

Alice, dressed in a beautiful black gown, stands on the stage and accepts a Golden Novel Award for Best Mystery Series. The award is dated 2025.

I snap back to the present and gently release Alice’s hands, confident again. “Just trust me, okay. It will all work out.”

“You’ve never steered me wrong,” Alice says as she moves away and starts to climb back out the window.

“You can use the front door,” I say with a laugh. Alice is great at cheering me up...when she’s not giving me an existential crisis. Under different circumstances we might even be friends. But I’ve yet to figure out how to have female friendships without complications. My psychic glimpses give insight into whatever a person is emotionally invested in in the moment, but I’m not sure how that would look on a personal level. Heart-to-heart conversations could be far too revealing.

“All good,” she says as she slings her legs over the window ledge and hops down.

I stand at the open window and watch her go.

Success sometimes looks different than what we’ve envisioned. Sometimes the opportunities we think we want are just distractions to the ones fate is trying to provide for us.

Today, the soothing words of affirmation don’t hit the same way.

Once I see Alice wave to Manuel and exit through the gate I sigh, then get to work. This weekend I’m hosting another epic VIP influencer party in the hope of connecting with more professional athletes. In my brief experience with that clientele, they prefer more casual settings to formal meetings and I’m hoping mob mentality could help give some of them a push to commit.

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