Page 48 of Rewrite the Rules

I swipe my hand over the space in front of her. “Bravo, Tess. I’m lovingeverythingabout this look.” Tessa crosses her legs and half curtsies. “I thought you were going out with your fun friends tonight?” I ask her, blocking the door.Do not try and cross the barrier of this doorframe with an entourage. I’m staying in my robe tonight.

“Addie, I’m three kids and ten years past ‘fun’. If I spend one more night in a dark club listening to EDM while drinking shooters out of fluorescent-colored tubes, I may die here. Want to spend a night in hiding with me?” Tessa holds the six-packs out to me. The world’s most precious offering.

“Night in? Hiding? Those are all the magic words. Come on in.” I relieve her right hand of the six-pack it holds and prop the heavy hotel door open with my foot. “Hurry up before someone ‘fun’ spots you here and I’m dragged into the fray.”

She hustles in like I could possibly change my mind. “You’re a saint, Addie-girl.”

I don’t know why I get along so well with a woman who is over a decade older than me. Ignoring the fact that I sharea lotof interests with residents at the senior center I volunteered for in college, I like to think it’s because Tessa is young at heart. She’s fabulous, incredibly strong, family oriented, and yet is still a badass businesswoman. I need a new vision board because I think I want to be Tessa when I grow up.

“The panel you ran today was inspiring. Thank you for inviting me. My mind is—” I wiggle my fingers on either side of my head and make my best explosion noises. “Easily the best week of my life.”

“Yeah? I’m so glad you’re getting something out of it. Addie, you should come every year. I’ve been writing for almost fifteen years and I still learn something new every time I attend. Stuff like this? Meeting other authors and networking. Navigating the market, learning new trends—this is how you grow your brand.”

“Please.” I throw my head back at the ridiculous suggestion. “This is for legit authors. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so appreciative, but I’m just here as a simple fly on the wall. To bask in your glory. To hide in your shadow. To tiptoe around the golden gates of heaven. To stare in the face of my tepid inadequacy…are any of these landing for you?”

“That segment on metaphors clearly made an impression.”

“Clearly.” I waggle my eyebrows. “By the way, what’s with all the free goodies and the open bars? Is this the life of an author? Day drinking and free stuff? Because I could get on board with that.”

Tessa’s expression softens. “I wish you would get on board. I brought you here hoping it’d inspire you to take this seriously.”

My shoulders slump. I must sound like an ungrateful child. “Tessa, I just…I’m an assistant. Iassist.That’s what I do and I’m okay with it. There are leading ladies and there are sidekicks. I know who I am. I’m content where I am.”

“Would it be crossing the line if I slapped you right now?” Tessa cocks her head to the side.

“It was the same forToy With Me.It’s your story, I just typed it out. Meeting therealauthors here at this conference is beyond humbling. The way their minds work. The stories they have to tell—it’s inspiring. They are so far out of my league. I can’t do what they do.”

“Youdiddo what they do. Yououtdidthem, Adler. Your book isn’t a best seller. It’sthebest seller. Tell me what other author at this conference has done that?”

You…multiple times.

“Tessa, tell me what other author here doesn’t put their name on their books?”

She bows her head. “I wish you would’ve told me what you were really capable of when I hired you. I don’t know…maybe you didn’t know at the time. But I would’ve demanded an amendment to the contract. I could have named you co-writer, given a credit line, hell, even just a damn dedication. By the time you sent the draft to me and my agent…well, I’ve never seen a book go through editing and publication that fast.”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “It kind of got away from us.”

“That’s what happens when you start doing what you were always meant to do. I worked on that book for six years before I found you. Did I ever tell you that? I threw away over six full drafts because I couldn’t get it right. Then you come along. You wrote exactly what I needed to say. You did what I couldn’t. Do you understand that?”

“Tess?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we drink now?” I grab two beers and hold one out. Tessa holds up her hands in defeat before taking the bottle. I am done with this conversation. I’m just me. I’m happy here. Don’t push me to be more.

“Do you have any good snacks here?”

Do I have any good snacks?Ha!Does a bear have thick matted tufts of fur that burrow into its skin like a bunny in a hideaway? Does a bird’s feathers dance against the sky? Do the desert winds conjure sand monsters with their furious flurries? Okay, Ilovedthe segment on the art of metaphors and symbolism. I am only speaking in metaphors moving forward. Quinn, Reese, Mani, and Noa are going to hate their lives when I get home.

Tessa rummages through my bag of goodies on the table. She settles for some lemon Oreos and plops down on the pleather hotel furniture that crunches like a plastic wrapper. The sound makes me cringe.

“Enjoy your twenties, honey. By the time you hit my age, each of these little suckers is ten minutes on the spin bike.” Tessa waves the golden cookie in the air before popping it in her mouth, whole.

“Noted.” I have never, nor will I ever own or get on a spin bike. I walk to work every day. I hike. I will occasionally dabble in whitewater rafting. I am perfectly capable of navigating a mountain trail with forty pounds of camping gear on my back. I prefer my exercise to be purposeful and not punishment. I do more than enough to check the ‘active’ box on my annual physicals.

“So what were you up to tonight, anyways?”

“I was about to put that La Mer face mask on from our goodie bags but then…” I make a toss-up motion with my hand. “I wasted the whole damn thing.”Your fault, Tess.

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