Page 4 of First Comes Revenge

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CHARLI

Once per year,Landmark PressandGray Wolfe Publishinghost a meet and greet with authors from all over the world in Arizona. It’s a chance for aspiring authors to come and pitch their stories directly to agents, editors, and publishers. Year after year, this place is where people get an opportunity to jumpstart their careers and get their books seen.

I feel like I’ve finally made some kind of holy pilgrimage.

Last year, I begged Vaughn to bring me, but he said it would make him look bad. He’d seem like the literary agent with the writer girlfriend who was trying to abuse his position as the son of Landmark’s CEO. I was sad to miss my chance to go, but I understood his point. His dad was really hard on him since he started officially working for the company two years ago. He probably wouldn’t let Vaughn hear the end of it if he thought I was getting preferential treatment. I got it, so I stayed home. I ended up re-writing my novel in progress after that, anyway, so maybe it was for the best. I would’ve been pitching a doomed book if he let me come last year.

Even with all that, I still thought this year would be different. We had another year under our belts and that had to mean our feelings were getting stronger for each other. Sure, it didn’t always feel that way, but what were we doing if we weren’t growing as a couple? So maybe Ihopedthis year would be different more than I really believed it would. If he invited me here, all the little things that I’d noticed wouldn’t be such a big deal. The convention would be the shining beacon out-shining all the doubts and worries I had about us.

I asked him if I could come two weeks ago when he flew out early “to get a head start”. I didn’t even press him to know why he needed to come so early. I just asked if I could come.

I think his exact words were, “Not this again, Charli. Please, just drop it.”

So I did.Sort of.

I pull my laptop bag up on my shoulder, take a deep breath, and start wandering the convention center. I sort of imagined spotting him right away. I have the whole thing written up in my mind. He’ll see me, light up, and we’ll rush together in a big hug. Maybe he’ll even kiss me and I’ll do that dainty thing where I kick one leg up at the knee. Perhaps a giggle will even slip out of my lips, eyes squeezed shut in romantic bliss.

Sure, he isn’t big on public displays of affection and we’ve never had that kind of moment, but this is going to be our big moment. It’s going to be the time we both look back on as the point when we overcame all the obstacles and really leaned into our feelings for each other.

The first problem with my little fantasy is how huge this place is. There must be hundreds of rooms and thousands of people. It’ll be a real challenge just to find Vaughn, so I decide to enjoy myself while I look.

I walk around, drinking it all in. I’m so nervous it’s making me feel sick, but I can’t ignore how awesome it feels to be hereas an author.I’ve always kind of wanted to write a book since I was a little girl, but I started to get serious about it four years ago when I turned twenty. I ended up using all my elective credits in college for creative writing classes, which I loved. I even switched my minor to English at the last minute. Sure, none of it helped my already useless psychology undergrad degree, but those classes were huge in pushing me to write and feel more confident.

In four years, I’ve always felt like I was at the little author kid table–on the outside looking in toward the real big boys. But now I’m almost done with my book. I’m actually attending a real life author thing. I’m locked and loaded with an elevator pitch, so maybe I’ll even convince someone at Landmark or Gray Wolfe to pick up my book today. There are a few other smaller publishing houses here, too, but the big two would be the real dream.

It’s all enough to make me temporarily forget how worried I am about things with Vaughn.

For a while, I do forget. I just sink into the moment and feel like I’m walking on clouds. There are desks set up for authors who write forLandmarkandGray Wolfe. I spot a few recognizable faces and internally fangirl. Okay, I do a little more than internally fangirl. I actually spend close to two hours waiting in lines to meet authors, collect signed books, and stuff them into my bag like a hamster filling its cheeks with goodies.

In my defense, I still have at least one eye on the prize at all times. I’m scanning the crowds for Vaughn.Maybepart of me doesn’t even want to spot him yet.

I get caught up in a few random conversations with other authors and hopeful authors. I realize just how many people here haven’t finished a book yet. They’ve written short stories or they have an idea they are planning to write some day. It just reminds me how big of a deal it is that I actually finished. I did the thing. I wrote the book, and it’s right there on my laptop, just waiting to be edited and pushed out into the world.

It has a sort of mystical quality to it. Writing a novel feels like catching the whale or successfully performing magic. Not that I have ever desired to catch a whale, of course. It’s just the kind of thing people aspire towards but never actually do. Actually, I’m not sure anybody really dreams about catching whales, but the point is that writing a book is only a dream for so many people. A fancy, sparkly dream full of glitter and unicorns that the world tries very hard to make people like me give up–togrow upand move on to more realistic, mature things. But I never did. It was always there and I always knew I was going to keep chasing it until I made it happen.

And now here I am.

I have the freaking book and it is so close to done.

I hadn’t even told Vaughn how close I was to finishing. He’d seemed so let down and disappointed with me when I told him I was scrapping the original draft last year. It was like I’d proved to him that I was never actually going to write the book. Now I can prove him wrong.

I break out of line with my much heavier bag in tow. I start looking for Vaughn with both eyes now. I’ve been a little distracted on theGray Wolfeside of things because they publish most of my favorite authors. I move through the convention center and find the area where there’s moreLandmarkpeople.

It’s a big room with tables scattered around and lines of people waiting to talk to authors, agents, and representatives from Landmark. I wander into line to buy a book and get it signed by one of my favorite fantasy authors. I’m glancing idly around the room when I do a double take. I think I see Vaughn, but it doesn’t make sense, because he’s holding hands with a beautiful woman.

Their backs are to me, but I’m pretty sure I know him from behind by now. I tilt my head a little, forehead creasing as I stare at him, then his hand in hers.

I drift out of line as it feels like the world shudders beneath my feet. My thumb is hooked under the strap of my bag. My jaw is hanging open just a little. The thump of my heart gets louder with each pulse in my ears.

He’s not alone.

My boyfriend is here without me, and he’s holding another girl’s hand. She has thick, brown hair. He always complains about how thin my hair is.

She’s skinnier than me. He has made several comments about how he wishes I put more effort into exercising and eating right.

She’s wearing a cutesy little dress. It’s the kind of dress he has told me multiple times not to wear because it looks like I’m trying too hard.

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