Page 41 of Shadowing Charlotte
"Isn't that… Like, an editor's job, though?" Jess asked. "I mean, don't assistants just help with small things?"
"In some cases, yes. In my editor's case, though, she has dozens of submissions and projects to work on. So, it's my job to do the initial rounds of edits, especially when it comes to new authors that might have a lot of room for improvement," Charlotte explained.
"Oh. Well, I don't think I could look at words all day," Jess commented with a dismissive shrug. I stiffened, watching Charlotte's polite smile wither away, a sour expression darkening her beautiful face.
"Well, not everyone has the… aptitude… for reading," Charlotte sneered. Nadine frowned at her scathing comment, but I smirked.
Jess, true to her uncaring nature, hardly noticed the insult, smiling and glancing at the menu. "What do you do, Jessica?" Charlotte asked. Her voice had gone sickly sweet, and I knew she didn't truly want to know.
"Jess and I work at Hooters," Nadine answered.
"Together?" Charlotte raised a curious eyebrow at her.
"We met there last year." Nadine explained. "The work is shitty, but the tips are great."
"Well, with racks like you two have, I would assume so…" Charlotte answered dryly, the corners of her mouth twitching as she bit back a smile. I couldn't help but chuckle, shaking my head. I was still smiling when the waitress approached our table and asked what we wanted to drink.
Chapter thirty-five
Charlotte
The rest of our meal was pleasant enough. I didn't particularly care for Jessica's flippant personality, but I'd enjoyed conversing with Nadine. By the end of our afternoon, I understood what Lex was trying to do. He wanted me to meet Jessica to prove that there wasn't some kind of relationship going on between them.
"You could have warned me," I told him in the car after Jessica had squeezed me goodbye. "It would have been easier to come up with things to talk about if I had been prepared."
"I only decided on the way there." Lex flicked on the blinker at the light, the repetitive sound filling the silence of the car. "You never told me you want to be a writer," he murmured as he drove.
"I don't anymore," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. I didn't want to talk about that. Not with Jessica, not with him, not with anyone.
"Why not?"
"I don't write anymore. Not since my mother died…" I answered softly, my lip quivering as I tried not to think about her.
"Oh…" The car went silent once more and I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, blinking back the tears that stung my eyes. "Oh, Charlie, baby, don't cry," he murmured, his hand giving my knee a reassuring squeeze. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"I miss it, sometimes… having the inspiration," I admitted, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat. I looked down, unable to meet his gaze, afraid of the look of pity I might find there. "I’ve tried to write, but nothing comes out. It’s like the part of me that loved creating is gone." My shoulders slumped as I sat back, the weight of the admission leaving me feeling both vulnerable and strangely relieved, as if a door I had kept locked inside me had finally been broken open.
"I'm sorry, my love," Lex whispered, his fingers dancing reassuring lines up and down my thigh. "I'm sure your mother wouldn't have wanted that." I entwined my fingers between his, any chance of response sticking in the base of my throat.
"I don't want to talk about her anymore," I managed to croak out.
"That's fine," he replied solemnly. The atmosphere in the car remained silent and uncomfortable all the way home…
Chapter thirty-six
Alexander
For the next few days, there was an abrupt shift in Charlotte. I slept in her bed with her every night; she refused to let me leave, but she'd grown oddly quiet. A sort of darkness lingered in the recesses or her eyes, as if talking about her mother had invited a ghost into her mind.
"What are you working on?" I interrupted the silence of the living room as she scribbled on the edge of a new manuscript.
"Autobiography," she murmured, biting on the end of her pen.
"Charlie," I breathed her name, hesitating. The last thing I wanted to do was upset her again. "Are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?"
"I told you… I don't want to talk about her," she answered bluntly, adjusting her glasses on her nose.
"I know, but maybe you should. You are obviously still upset over her death." I well knew what it was like, pretending nothing was wrong when something was eating me from the inside. It's why I tried not to talk about my parents. Charlotte ignored my suggestion, angrily flicking to the next page and jotting something in the margins. "Look, if you don't want to talk to me, you can always talk to a professional."
