Release Me

Part 13

I unzipped my boots and dropped them by the door as soon as I walked inside. Leaning against the back of it, I stared at the ceiling at letting the results of the recent situation wash over me. There was no way to know if my haste to fix my problems caused bigger ones.

"You're home!" Samantha said, racing out of the kitchen. "What took you so long? Forget it, never mind, it's not important but I've got good news."

Nodding at the enormous ball of energy in front of me, I attempted to focus, but the events of the day made it difficult.

"I love good news." I forced a smile and pushed off the door, padding across the floor in my stocking feet. Once I was within range, she linked her arms in mine and guided me to the kitchen. On the table was a small round cake, with what looked to be some kind of plastic e-reader decoration pushed into the top. "Your agent got back to me about a week ago and said none of your contracts were wrapped up with digital rights, so you were free to publish in that space if you wanted to, but to not get your hopes up because it probably won't last."

"That's great news," I said, trying to sound excited for a situation I didn't care much about given everything that had happened on the way home.

"I know, right?" She continued to prattle. "Now, I know it's not much, but with these social medial platforms taking off I think it's got chance. We played around with them back in my undergrad. So, I uploaded your books to a couple popular sites, and people have really noticed. In the last two weeks, you've sold seven hundred and fifty-six books, which comes out to about fifteen hundred dollars. I mean, I know it's not much, but who knows, maybe I can eventually get them on one of those lists. Like USA Today or the New York Times or something."

A tear slid down my cheek and I pulled her into a tight hug. It didn't matter if her odd scheme was crazy, or if I never sold millions of books, she was right there in my corner cheering me on until I believed in myself again, even if she could never know the real reason for the overwhelming paranoia that shook every second of my life.

"Hey now. It's not all that. You can't leave you 'day job' or anything, but at least it's something." She shrugged as I let her go. "It's not like they caught fire and took the world by storm, but people noticed them."

Her sheepish smile and slight shrug, told me her attempts at humility were a mask of the excitement she found at doing a job she loved. The results were astonishing, but my world was on constantly shifting, and it felt like a life vest in a storm tossed sea.

"I think you should do the photoshoot," I said with an abruptness that startled us both, as I slipped into one of the kitchen chairs.

"Really?" Her hands flew to her face, and she covered her agape mouth.

"Yes, really. I've got this new business contract that looks like it'll keep me far too busy, and it's worth quite a bit of money. You seem to love doing the public relations and marketing work for the books anyway, why don't you become the face. Maybe you'll even get those daytime talk show interviews you're always dreaming about."

She stared at me and we both broke out in a fit of giggles.

"And maybe a hot drummer or guitarist because they want to fuck a famous author." With the greatest possible drama, she put her hand on her forehead and pretended to swoon. "Oh, drummer boy."

"All the world's a stage and stuff. Now you can go strut your stuff with my books."

Her face turned serious, and she grasped both of my hands as she squatted in front of me.

"Are you sure? I mean, I want to be the face of your books, and I know your traditional houses,are pushing you for a photoshoot and with this new digital stuff it could be everywhere, but we'll both know I'm a fraud."