Page 6 of Carbon

“So you’re using Mr. Douglas as a substitute? You know, to...? Because I’m not usually one to judge, but in the middle of the day with your sister in the room...” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I can get you something to take care of that problem.”

Could I go any redder? “I told you; it’s research.”

I had fingers, thank you very much, and I knew how to use them.

“Research for what?”

“I’m writing a book, okay?”

“On what? Porn?”

“If you must know, it’s a historical romance. I was just watching for...uh...pointers. Since it’s been so long, as you kindly reminded me.”

“A book?”

“That’s what I said.”

“I know; it’s just... I guess I’m surprised.”

“I did spend the last six years studying English.”

“Do Mother and Father know what you’re doing?”

I stifled a laugh. “Of course not.”

My father only read non-fiction, while Mother stuck with women’s magazines and the occasional memoir. The idea of them reading the naughty bits and realising they came from my head? Yes, I’d rather walk across glowing coals.

“Come on then, let me have a look.”

The mouthful of tea I’d just taken almost flew across the keyboard, but I managed to choke on it instead. Angie thumped me on the back until the coughing subsided.

“What was that all about? Me reading your book? What’s the point in writing it otherwise?”

“I guess I figured the only people who might read it wouldn’t know me. That I could stay anonymous.”

“Are you planning to publish it?”

“At the moment, I’m just trying to finish it.”

“But then what?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead, okay? The bit I enjoy is the writing.”

Angie sat down at her own computer in the little lounge we shared upstairs, the one that had been our playroom as kids, and I thought she’d lost interest. But the next day, she dumped a huge pile of print-outs on my old walnut desk.

“What’s all this?”

“More research.”

I stared at her, then glanced at the pile, expecting to see a picture of a stripper after my excuse yesterday, but the top page was filled with tiny print.

“Research on what?”

“Publishing. I did it for you.” She shrugged. “Sure beat ringing around friends and begging for a job to keep Daddy happy.”

“Uh, I’m not sure...”

Truth be told, the idea of publishing scared the crap out of me. Sure, I had the goal of finishing this book, but I’d poured my heart into those pages, and I didn’t want my nearest and dearest to see inside.

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