Page 21 of Role Play
Movement at the foot of my bed jostles me awake. My eyelids reluctantly peel apart and I’m greeted by my best, and only friend, Daphne, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed, squishing my toes.
“I am thoroughly convinced you would not survive a home invasion,” she deadpans.
A wide yawn escapes my lips as I un-wedge my toes from under her ass. I sit up, leaning against my rickety, wooden headboard. “If you’re the intruder, all I stand to lose is Toaster Strudels and maybe some box wine.”
“I’m serious, Sora. I’ve been here for thirty minutes. I purposely dropped a mixing bowl in the kitchen to startle you awake.”
I blink at her. “How’d that work for you?”
She rumples her nose. “To be honest, I’m surprised you own mixing bowls. What do you use those for? Popcorn?”
Her glib smile is because she’s right. I can’t cook anything without a microwave. “Perhaps,” I mumble, stretching my arms overhead.
Daphne’s smile softens. Her thick, blond hair cascades over her right shoulder when she cocks her head to the side. “Happy birthday, to my best friend, and the world’s best romance author. This is going to be your year, babe. I canfeelit.”
I believed her last year. And the year before. Also, the year before that. Daphne’s enthusiasm is now losing momentum. “Thank you.”
“I also have some great news for you.” She claps her hands together in glee. “Guess what your amazing personal assistant extraordinaire did for you?”
I show her a froggy, close-lipped smile. “Break into my apartment at the crack of dawn?”
Daphne pretends to check her nails. “First off, I’m popping all the balloons I got for you on my way out. Second, you’re going to regret your sourpuss mood when I tell you what I pulled off. But wait! First, how did yesterday go?”
“Fine. Dad was…Dad. He gave me the brownstone.”
Her jaw falls apart. “The brownstone? As in the West Village brownstone?”
I nod. “He’s staying in LA because he insisted on babysitting the showrunner forHell & Heroes.”
“That does not surprise me remotely,” Daphne says, lying down and curling up on top of my goose down comforter, like a loyal labradoodle. “Coop is a control freak.”
“He hates that you call him that, by the way.”
She laughs. “And here I am just flattered he knows I exist.”
Of course my dad knows Daphne. She’s my only friend, and my PA out of the goodness of her heart. Without her, I am borderline pathetic. I like to remind Mom and Dad every now and then I have at least one real-life friend. Otherwise, they might circle back to the antidepressants they so desperately think I need.
“But that wasn’t what I was talking about,” Daphne continues. “I thought I’d pop by this morning while you still speak to us lowly folks. How did it go with Dane? I thought you’d text me at least. Did he bring a contract, or do you have a follow-up meeting?”
Her big green eyes sparkle with hope and it instantly brings tears to my eyes. I wake up every day and have my heart ripped to shreds by this industry. Whether it’s a mean-spirited review, being ignored by influencers, my sales dashboard telling me I can’t afford to chase this career anymore, or my dream agent telling me I’m just not good enough, I know how to function with a broken heart. But crushing Daphne? For some reason that hurts the most. She believes in me.
And maybe she shouldn’t.
“Babe…tears?” she asks, crawling up the bed to sit beside me.
“He didn’t want me. He was looking for an in with my dad.” That’s all I manage before I’m wrapped in her slender arms. I mean to clarify and present the rejection in some kind of sugarcoating of “it’s not the right time,” or “it’s still early in my career and I might have a chance down the road,” but I can’t muster the strength to ignore the simple truth: Dane saw no value in me.
“What do we need to do?” Daphne asks. “Because I have to leave for work in fifteen minutes, and I won’t abandon you crying here on your birthday.” She kisses the top of my head, then scoots backward to examine me. “You’re going to be okay, Sora. You’re unbreakable.”
She’s wrong, though. I’m broken. But she needs a smile so she can get on with her day, so I don’t say that. Instead, I do what I’m best at—placating.
“Thank you. I just need a day to shake it off.” Clasping my hands together, I rub them furiously like I’m trying to start a fire. “Oh, I forgot. I know you were asking last week. I foundone more foiled special edition ofLovelyfor that big influencer, RoxyReadz. I got a bunch of cute stuff for her package and got it sent last week, so keep an eye out on socials for an unboxing. Her following is huge, so hopefully that’ll help with visibility before book two comes out.”
Daphne’s eyes descend to her lap. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask. But I already know.
Her eyes come up to meet my gaze. “She’s one reader with one opinion. Don’t give it a second thought.”
