“Sure. If you want to. I mean, you’ve just read one of the hot parts.”
She laughed, and stood, holding her hand out.
“Give it to me and I’ll have a read through. I have a quiet afternoon, and I'm a quick reader. I’ll give it back to you by the end of the day.”
I sucked my lips in, suppressing a laugh. “I feel like I’m in school handing something to the teacher because I’ve been naughty and aren’t supposed to have it.”
She giggled, slapping her hand across her mouth. “I just want to read the rest. I’ll mark anything that I think you need to fix. Proofread it, if you will.”
“That would be great.”
I handed her back the tablet, and she sashayed her way back out of the kitchen, presumably back to her office.
Sharing erotic fiction at work with your boss. Whoever thought that was a good idea?
* * *
As I was leaving for the day, I wandered past reception and through to Rebecca’s office. Her bag was still on the table, but there was no sign of her.
I glanced at my watch. I had to leave now to collect the boys on time and avoid paying penalty fees for being late. That was the last thing I needed.
Oh well, I guess I’ll grab it in the morning.
When I got to my car, I looked back at the building. Her office light was still on. Where did you get to? I shrugged, climbing into the seat and started the car, chuckling to myself.
I was on cloud nine. Someone liked what I wrote. Unless she hated it and was avoiding me. Oh crap. What had I done?
Jack jumped in the car when I pulled into the car park. “Mum, have you got your tablet? I want to play that game before Thomas tries to take it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, bud. Someone borrowed it today. I’ll get it back tomorrow.”
He pouted.
“Tell you what, I might let you play on the computer for a little while before bed tonight.”
He nodded excitedly. That would be a real treat. I’d been glued to that laptop since I’d bought it.
As I drove to day-care, Rebecca was still on my mind. What she’d read hadn’t even been the hottest bit, and I knew I’d pushed the envelope. What if she decided she hated it? What if I had been carried away with my fantasy and written something too sexually explicit and she decided to fire me? No, she couldn’t do that. Could she?
Jack came in the day-care with me and when we did Thomas whooped, running towards us. “Mummy,” he cried.
This had to be the best part of the day. The time of the day where I felt most loved.
“Tom, Mum said we can play on the computer when we get home.”
A chorus of “YAY” followed me out the door and back to the car where I buckled them into their seats.
“Can we get pizza?” Jack asked.
“Not tonight, honey. Maybe on pay day.”
He frowned.
“Tell you what? How about we cook cocktail sausages and eat them with heaps of tomato sauce?”
A resounding “YAY” came from the back seat and I laughed as I indicated to pull out. Sometimes it was the simple answer that turned into the most popular.
Thomas didn’t even last through dinner. Stuffing himself full of the small red treats, he fell asleep at the dining table and I carried him gently to his bed, tucking him in and kissing him goodnight.
Been a long day for all of us. Hell, every day is a long day.
When I went back out, Jack was already at the computer, hammering the keys as he raced a car around a circuit. I watched for a minute before clearing the dishes and going to the kitchen to wash them.
As I scrubbed the plates, I watched him. I loved that kid so much, and his brother. When I looked at them, I felt as if my heart was going to burst with love and pride. Evan had made me feel useless, worthless. My children made me feel as if I was the most important person in the world.
It wasn’t long before Jack was yawning and I moved behind him, watching him zoom around.
“Hey, you. Time for bed, I think.”
Before Evan left, Jack would be straight home from school, on the couch watching television, snuggled up with a book when I got home. Now he went to after-school care. By the time I picked him up he was ready for dinner. My poor tired boys.
He didn’t complain. Neither of them had since Evan had left. Both were so sensitive and yet they knew how hard this was for me, how much I had to deal with. Despite their young age, we just all put each other first.
It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep and I sat down on the couch, flicking on the TV to see what was on. Switching channels, there just seemed to be nothing, so I left it on the news and lay down.
The combination of gentle sounds from the television, and the comfortable couch soon lulled me into a half-asleep haze.
I should give up and go to bed.
A sharp knock on the door woke me, and I sprang up, looking at the wall clock. Just after 9.30pm. I’d been lying there two hours. Who on earth could it be at this time of night?
Evan.
My stomach clenched at the thought of another confrontation, and when I peeked through the curtains, I couldn't see past onto the porch.
“Who is it?” I asked, approaching the door.
“Rebecca.”
Rebecca? Rebecca was at my house?
I turned the handle, unlocking the door, and there she stood on my doorstep, my tablet in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. I gulped, my heart pounding as a million thoughts ran through my head as to why she could be there. The bottle of wine indicated she wasn't expecting to be kicked out any time soon, though.
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought you might want this back?” She handed me the tablet. “I highlighted a few changes I think you need to make and some punctuation you need to fix. I mean, if you gave it to me as a word document, I can make the changes myself and go over it properly. I just had a quick read-through. I’m gonna need that for much, much longer.”
Without even trying, one of my eyebrows crept up. "Thank you, I really wasn't expecting this."
“Can I come in?” She waved the wine bottle in my face. “I brought you a present.”
I broke down, laughing and shaking my head. “Of course. Come on in. I’m pretty sure I have some glasses somewhere.”
When I came back she was sat on the couch, looking around. “So this is your place? Where are your boys?”
“It’s nine thirty. They’re in bed, asleep.”
“Holy shit, it’s nine thirty,” she said, gaping a the clock on the wall. “I lost track of time. I’m so sorry.”
I shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s kinda nice to have grown-up company. I did come looking for you before I left work. Where did you get to?”
Taking the sparkling wine from her, I twisted the metal tie and popped the cork. When I looked back at her, she’d gone a deep shade of red and was looking at the floor.
“What?” I asked, grinning as I poured the wine.
“I had to make a pit stop.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I spent all afternoon reading what you wrote. I had to take a toilet break.”
Handing her the glass of wine, I nodded. It made sense, it was a lot to read in a short time.
“Reading all that sex, I had some … uh … tension I had to get rid of.”
The mouthful of wine I was just about to swallow came flying out, spraying across the room.
Does that mean what I think it does?
“You’ve got a real way with words, Olivia.”
Did I hear right? Did my boss just confess to slipping off to the bathroom to …
I didn’t have to ask. She nodded, shifting to spread her legs and flicking her hand in the air between to indicate what she meant.
“Holy crap,” I said.
“I know. What if Grace had walked in?”
I let out a loud laugh at the thought. Grace was the receptionist at work and about 102 ye
ars old. At least, that was how it seemed. She was so prim and proper, and never found anything remotely funny. Everyone at work was pretty sure she’d been there forever. Maybe they’d even built the office around her. And right now, all I could picture was Grace walking in just as Rebecca … well … that.
“Sorry, I know this is way too much information, but you’re so talented. I would love to help you if I can. I’m really glad I’m a nosey bitch.”
I laughed again, shaking my head. This was nice, just having someone to talk to and laugh with. It felt like forever since I’d truly laughed, or found joy in anything other than my boys.
And that was how my boss became my editor.
Chapter Seven
My wine nights with Rebecca became a semi-regular thing. As I'd write, she'd go over it and tidy up anything she thought looked wonky, and our friendship grew.
Two or three nights a week we'd hang out at my place, sometimes watch a movie and all the while, we planned for my first book release.
Not only was she my boss, but she was my friend now too, and I cherished that just as much as all the help she'd given me.
When we got close to the end of creating my book, I started looking around for those final pieces to put it all together.
I found the perfect cover one night while sitting at my dining table.
It was just gorgeous. A man and a woman wrapped around one another. Sexy and romantic.
And for the life of me, I didn’t know what to call it.
“Call it Tempting Fate. You know, that’s what that girl does, taking a chance on the guy in the story. It's sexy and sweet, and open to interpretation. People who read that title will all take a different meaning from it,” Rebecca said.
“I like that. But what do I call myself?”
“What do you mean?”
I sighed. “I’m not going to publish this as me. This is my secret thing, all for myself.”
“Oh, right.” She looked pensive. “I don’t know. Let’s just Google names and pick one.”
I looked sideways at her. “That sounds scientific.”
“Well, you don’t know what to call yourself either, Miss Smarty Pants.” She grinned.
“Hmm, you might be onto something there. I’ll call myself M Smartypants.”
She laughed, slapping me on the shoulder and leaning over to look at the computer screen.
“How about you just use your initial and a fake last name.”
“Like what?”
“Something a bit rude, suggestive. How about O Rod.” Rebecca raised her eyebrows, smirking as she tilted her head.
I got the giggles, and pretended to head-butt the computer.
“O Brother, more like,” I said.
“Or just The Big O.”
My face began to hurt from laughing so hard and the tears rolled down my eyes.
“O My.” Rebecca moved from behind me, plonking herself on the next seat. I leaned back in my chair, shaking my head.
“Stop it,” I said.
“I can’t. This is too much fun.” Rebecca grinned.
“Let’s drink wine and think about it then.”
She nodded. “I’m sure great ideas with flow after that.”
“O Behave,” I said.
She laughed as she made her way to the kitchen to get the wine from the fridge and the glasses from the cabinet. I enjoyed her company. It was so much better than having no one to talk to. And she cared, she genuinely cared about me and the boys. I loved her so much for that.
“What’s your mother’s maiden name? Don’t writers sometimes use that as a surname?”
I had to rack my brain. It had been so long since I’d thought about anything to do with my mother, I couldn’t remember.
“Knight.”
Rebecca walked back in, cackling like an evil witch from a fairy tale.
“O What a Knight?”
I buried my face in my hands, laughing so hard I started to cry. “I don’t know what to do.”
“What’s your middle name?”
“Elizabeth.”
She patted me on the back. “How about Elizabeth Knight?”
I shrugged. “I guess. It's nothing too out there, but subtle enough to be different to my real name."
“You'll be hiding in plain sight.”
I giggled.
“It just seemed like fun. Anyway, now you can set up your Facebook page.”
I looked back at the laptop. “What Facebook page?”
“The one where you can make your announcements, somewhere for people to find you so they can see what you’re doing.”
I'd fiddled with Facebook, but hadn't used it for much other than playing a few games. I'd unfriended a lot of people when Evan left.
“Here, I’ll show you. I’ll even like your page. We’ll hire that lady that made the cover to do a few more bits and pieces for decoration and away you go.”
* * *
With zero idea of what I was doing, I leaned on Rebecca a lot. I might have only had one like on my Facebook page to start with—well two, if you count me liking my own page, but she was patient and I began to think I should be paying her to work for me. And at the same time, I’d found a friend who would support me through the good and the bad times. My life felt as if it were getting back on an even keel.
The night we pressed publish, I cried. And when the book went live, I clicked the refresh button a hundred times to see if I’d sold anything. It got so annoying, I handed it over to Rebecca to watch.
“We sold five overnight,” she said as I came in the next morning.
“What? Holy crap.”
“Yep. What does that make you? Ten dollars?”
I laughed, thrilled that someone had bought my book. The office worker in me silently calculated just how many copies I’d have to sell to get back my investment in my new little business. A couple of thousand would do it, a couple of million would be better.
Some days I sold none, some days I sold one. I found Facebook pages to share on and ways to advertise to readers for free. Slowly but surely, my Facebook likes trickled up.
And then Rebecca and I started something new to up the momentum.
The routine the boys were in helped keep my sanity. I hadn't heard from Evan again, his threats over custody had panned out to nothing as I had thought they would.
As little as we had, he probably had even less.
Within two months I had three novellas out and quietly growing sales.
Best of all, it made me feel better than I had in a very long time.
Now to sort out the rest of my life: get my head above water, raise my children, maybe meet a nice man … actually have sex rather than just writing about it.
This was just the start.
For a few months I lasted in that house, paying the mortgage I could barely afford, no squeeze room in the budget. Our life there couldn’t last forever. I was starting to make back the savings I'd spent producing my stories, but it wasn't enough.
This wasn’t what I wanted for my children; it wasn’t what I wanted for myself. All the years I’d worked to make our lives better and we were back to square one. I’d worked so hard to buy this place and we’d managed to time it just right. I’d rather give it up than lose it though.
This place had been my dream. Our own home with room for our children to play and grow.
My reality now was much different.
I spent hours scouring the newspaper, trying to find somewhere we could live that I could afford. We’d have to rent; the mortgage was enough that anything I got out of it would cover expenses, but not a lot else.
At least I’d walk away with my dignity intact.
There was an apartment block nearby with vacancies that were an exact fit for what we needed. It would do.
With the place needing maintenance that Evan never did and I couldn’t afford to pay someone to do, I got less for the house than I’d hoped for, but it was still enough that I didn’t owe anyone anything. My
boys and I would start with nothing, but it was better than less than nothing, which would have been the case if we’d stayed.
Even though I was being responsible, I felt like the worst mother in the world.
“What do you mean we have to move?” Jack’s lower lip wobbled.
“We're going to move somewhere that’s just for us.”
Thomas’s eyes lit up, as if it were the most exciting thing ever. “An adventure,” he said.
Jack was seven, Thomas four. Old enough to know what was going on, but too young to really understand.
“That’s right, baby. An adventure.”
Jack snuggled up on one side of me on the couch, Thomas on the other. At least I’d have my boys we’d get through it together. I loved them more than anyone or anything else, and I’d do whatever I had to in order to protect them.
I called the moving company, and packed our things. And on the final day, I went from room to room, saying my own goodbyes to the home I'd made, the one I thought would be there forever.
For the last time, I locked the door behind me. Two stops to pick up the boys from school and day-care and we'd move into our new home. The moving truck would meet us there at three-thirty, so I had to get a move on.
"Goodbye," I whispered.
Concrete and metal, the block of apartments loomed over me as I approached through the courtyard. This was not what I wanted for my children, but it was the best I could do. For now.
“Is that our new house?” Jack asked, his eyes wide at all the apartments.
“It’s so big,” Thomas said, and I smiled at him.
“One of those is ours.” I sighed. This must seem so awful to them after the place we had come from. It hadn’t been huge, but there was a yard that was theirs. The closest thing to it here was the park down the road.
This is so unfair.
The moving company truck pulled into the car park and I took the boys up to the second floor and along the balcony to our room. The building was shaped in a semi-circle, overlooking the shared car park. We got an apartment and a park for the car included in our rent. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a roof over our heads which would be warm and dry, and we could close the door and shut the whole damn horrible world out.
Something Real Page 4