Colton: Wordsmith Chronicles Book 2 (The Wordsmith Chronicles)
Page 23
“Roland,” I say.
He looks right at me. I don’t need to touch him—don’t need to yell or raise my voice in any way. I do something that I’ve never done before. I let all the darkness inside me—the pain, the hurt, the anger, all of it—rise to the surface. It floats up like a balloon that’s been let go by a small child, and I feel the power of its rising, until it’s sitting there, resting just behind my eyes. Roland sees the change and he doesn’t even know what he’s seeing, but he understands that I’m not fucking around.
I take one step—and only one step—closer to him, so that we’re close enough to make this interaction uncomfortable. I never break eye contact, and when I speak, I do so methodically, to emphasize my point.
“Here’s what happens from now on. I want you to listen very closely.”
“Oh, come on. . .”
“And don’t talk,” I interrupt, inching my face just a little closer to startle him. “Just listen. You probably think of me as the tag along of the group, right? Mike is the leader, Colt is the dangerous one, and me? I’m just kind of there, right? Well Mike’s not here. Colton just drove away. It’s just you and me, and I’m here to deliver a message from The Wordsmiths to the Brotherhood. Are you ready?”
He nods his head.
“This is over. All of it. The social media posts. The stalking. The public confrontations. All of it. It’s over.”
“Says who?” he asks.
“Says me, motherfucker, and that’s the only authority you need.” I feel powerful as I speak, and I can see in his face that he’s getting the point. “We’re done. There’ll be no more from us, that I can promise you. But now it’s your job to let this all be. Deal with whatever legal trouble you all have from the laptop thing, just like Colton had to, and then let it the fuck go.”
“Or what?” he stupidly asks.
I smile. I don’t know why, but I smile. It isn’t a happy face, it’s the kind of maniacal smile someone a little less than sane might make before doing something awful. “Or,” I say, very slowly. “I’m going to come after you, Roland. Not Johnathan, not KL. You. I’m going to find you, all by myself, and I’m going to hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine. I’m going to find you like you always seem to find us, when you’re alone. You won’t see me or know I’m there until my arm is underneath your chin, and you’re wondering whether you’re going to wake up or not.”
I can see the fear in his eyes, as much as he tries to hide it. He knows that what I’m saying isn’t a threat, it’s a promise that I’m more than willing to keep—a contract I’m forcing him to sign. He doesn’t speak at first, just takes a step back as a sign of submission, and puts his arms up in agreement.
“Fine.”
“Fine,” I repeat. “Take it back to your friends any way you want to communicate it. But, Roland?”
“Yeah?”
“They’d better get the message. Because if they don’t, and they pull any more shit, it’s you I’m coming after.”
He takes another few steps back. Message received. He turns around and fetches his keys out of his pocket. “Too bad about your book’s ranking, though, huh? Thought you guys had a huge following. Guess not. Sucks. See you around, huh?”
He turns and walks away, and it takes all the restraint I have to not run him down and kick his ass. But the rational part of me remembers that that’s the kind of thing that started this whole messed up cycle, and I turn away, swallowing my anger. Once inside my car I start the ignition and take out my phone. I check my sales page to see what the fuck he’s talking about. Once I scroll down a little I see my book is ranked #94,456 in the Contemporary Romance category that I listed it in. It takes the breath right out of me, and I feel deflated. I throw my phone on the passenger seat and hit the gas.
<><><>
I remember when things used to be simple.
I remember when the whole crazy idea got thought of, like it was yesterday, even though it was hundreds of yesterday’s ago. The bar by our school. Mike, Colton and I sitting around, like we always did on the weekends, talking about how we were going to set the world on fire. We were going to be big shots—the male version of EL James, each and every one of us. Just give us a year and a laptop and we’ll dominate this industry.
What a fucking joke.
It sounds like a pipe dream. It sounds like wishful thinking on the part of young, idealistic idiots who didn’t realize how hard it actually is to make a living in this industry.
Or maybe I was the only idiot. After all, we played the odds. Mike’s career is blowing up, Colton is right there behind him, and I’m. . .I’m nowhere. How unlikely would it be that three best friends all became rich and famous, bestselling authors in a few years time? That would be the stuff of movie scripts. I guess two out of three isn’t bad. But three out of three? That just isn’t going to happen.
I need to get away.
I get home from lunch ready to leave. I know just the place, too.
I take my keys out of the ignition, ready to return in a few minutes with a packed suitcase. I’ll tell the other guys where I am once I get there. When I get to my front door I look up to see. . .is that her?
“Rowan?”
“Oh,” she says. “So you do remember me?”
I haven’t talked to her in a little while. I don’t know why I’m so secretive with my friends when it comes to girls or my relationships, but I’ve always been that way. Me and Rowan have definitely vibed—we’re kindred spirits of sorts—a little dark, a little secretive, but it hasn’t really gone past the late night texts and subtle flirtation. I like the girl, a lot, and trust me that doesn’t happen very often. I’m usually too focused on whatever it is I’m writing to worry about the stress of relationships, but Rowan came into my life because of Mike’s relationship with Everleigh.
Now she’s here, standing at my door because I wouldn’t answer her. She looks great. Her body is fit and slender, and her green eyes shimmer when the light hits them just right, yet she has this balance of innocence and sexiness that keeps me on my toes because I’m never quite sure what she’s thinking.
33
Rowan
“Of course,” he says back. “I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t return my calls.” I sound desperate, don’t I? Like some girl who’s chasing a guy who clearly doesn’t like her. Isn’t that what mom used to tell me? Never chase them, Rowan, always let the boys come to you. Great advice, Mom, only what happens when they’re not exactly doing an Usain Bolt impersonation when you walk down the street?
“I’m sorry about that. I’m. . .I’m not in a good place. It’s not you.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Nothing,” he says. He’s lying. He just doesn’t want to talk about it, but after all the ignoring he just did, I think it’s okay to push back a little bit.
“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”
“Fine. But come into my bedroom.”
I’ve wanted to hear those words for a while now, only I don’t think that’s quite how he means them. There’s nothing sexual or romantic in his voice, but I follow him anyway because I want to know what’s going on. Once we’re in his room he rushes to his closet and starts grabbing shirts and pants and throwing them on the bed. I notice that, but what I really pay attention to is the bed itself.
That’s where he’s been lying while we texted, back and forth, sometimes for hours. Those are the sheets his naked body presses against when he closes his eyes at night. Those are the pillows I’ve imagined my face buried in as he took me from behind.
“So,” he says, interrupting my daydream. “The short version is my book sucks, no one wants it, and I need to get out of here for a while.”
He sounds really upset. He’s barely making eye contact as he speaks, and he’s grabbing his clothes frantically from the closet. “Wait, come again?”
“Do I have to? I’m trying to pack, Ro.”
There are a few ways I could react to the way
he’s being right now. I could get offended that he didn’t return my messages and will barely speak to me now, and storm off. Or, I could see the pain he’s in and try to make him better. If I can.
“No,” I tell him. “You don’t have to do anything. But can you do something for me?”
“What is it?”
“Can you listen to me while you pack? You don’t have to talk.”
“Yeah, I guess. I won’t be here much longer, though.”
“I don’t have much to say, but I want you to hear what I do.”
“Okay. Go ahead.”
“I bought your book. I read all the other ones you gave me, also, and I loved each and every one of them.”
He stops what he’s doing despite telling me that he was in such a great rush. He looks at me like I just said something shocking. No matter what expression he makes he’s beautiful. “How?” he asks.
“How, what?”
“You read my books? The paperbacks I gave you?”
“Every single one.”
“That’s a lot of reading. I can’t believe you read all of my books that fast.”
“I can’t believe that you can’t believe it,” I say. “They’re all page turners. They’re all great.”
“If they’re so great then why aren’t they selling? Why do I spend hours and hours each week trying to write the perfect story, only to have a handful of people buy them. Shit, Ro, I can barely pay my rent anymore, let alone pay for custom photos and all the costs that come with publishing books. I think I may have to—”
“Grayson, don’t say it.”
“—give it up. I might have no other choice. Clearly my ‘great’ books aren’t so great.”
“They’re great to me, Gray. I love them. I’m not lying to make you feel better. Your words make me feel things that I’ve never felt before. They make me want to push my boundaries.”
“If only there were a few thousand more people who feel the same way about them as you do, I’d be set. But, as it is, reality is starting to kick in, and I need to take a trip, at least for a while.”
“Where are you going?”
“Arizona,” he says without missing a beat. It’s not what I was expecting to hear. “My uncle has a place out there where we used to go in the summers. He doesn’t live there anymore but he kept the house so that family could use it. I called him right before you got here and he said it’s mine if I want it.”
“What are you going to do in Arizona? What about the Wordsmiths?”
“Knight and Colton are doing fine, Ro, didn’t you see? Mike’s probably signing a publishing deal as we speak, and Colton’s new release is number 2 in its category. Give it an hour and a few more copies and he’ll be a best seller. They don’t need me. Now it’s time for me to be a little bit selfish. I’ve gotta go.”
“But what’s in Arizona besides an empty house you used to visit?”
“I don’t know,” he says, sounding emotional for the first time. “Maybe nothing. Maybe some stupid job being like everybody else. Who knows? Right now the most appealing thing about Arizona is that it isn’t New York, and that’s all I need at the moment.”
He looks frantic. Upset. Disappointed in a way that no words of mine are going to help. So I let go of the flattery and the praise, and I think of words that may help him more than those. “Then I guess there’s only one more question that I can ask.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you want some company?”
He looks at me and smiles. He’s so hot that I can’t even stand it. I play it cool because I don’t want to be that desperate, thirsty girl who’s all googly-eyed around the male romance author, but the man is hard to look away from. He’s beautiful to the point where he could be a model himself, and what makes him even hotter is that he doesn’t seem to notice. He never hits a pose, or posts a million selfies so everyone can like them. I think he’s the best looking of the Wordsmiths—dark features, a great body, and as handsome as any man has ever been. And when he smiles at me like he’s doing right now, I melt. I hold my breath until he speaks his next words.
“I’d love some,” he says. “Do you need to pack or tell anyone?”
“No,” I say, never breaking his gaze. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
“I agree. Let’s go.”
And then, the only noise besides the rapid beating of my heart is the slam of his door as we head for his car, the road in front of us, and the future as uncertain as it’s ever been.
Features
***MATTHEW ROBERT—A WORDSMITHS FEATURE***
This series is about all those who make up the indie book community, and it’s time for a proper introduction for the real life “Colton”, Matthew Pappadia (‘Matthew Robert’ on social media. I have the honor of popping Matthew’s book cover cherry! Colton will be his first appearance on a book, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.
I was looking through Golden’s photos on Furious Fotog’s Instagram page (@furiousfotog) when I came across a few images that interested me. I’d gotten such great feedback on Golden’s shot of Josh that I decided to use his amazing work again. I wasn’t searching long before I found Matthew.
When I saw his picture I knew right away that I wanted it to be part of this new series. He’s a great guy, and I’ve had the pleasure to speak with him many times throughout this process, and hopefully many more leading up to the book.
Matthew Pappadia was born in the suburbs of New York, and keeps himself busy with a handful of endeavors. He is a part time fitness model, actor, occupational therapist, and owner/creator of PapsFitness, an online personal training company. His modeling career began five years ago and and he has worked consistently in the industry since. Matthew is thankful to God everyday for the chance to inspire and be inspired.
Discover more about Matthew on his Instagram at Instagram.com/papsfitness.
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Grayson (book 3)—> date TBA
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Brody (A Wordsmith Chronicles Novel) —date TBA
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