The Research Project

Chapter Two

Lainey stepped inside her shoe box apartment and immediately began to strip off her work clothes, eyeing the growing pile on the floor in distaste. Madison's comments had hit hard today. She shed her clothes one by one, her daytime persona disappearing and when she redressed into her leggings, a black turtle neck sweater, her feet bare, she forced herself to switch off from her day. She looked at her image in the mirror. She liked this version of herself so much more. Not that she was anything remarkable to look at, in fact she was quite ordinary. But what she did when she changed into these clothes was anything but ordinary.

Lainey re-entered her living room and walked over to the small bookshelf that had been shoved into one corner of the room. She spied the book she wanted with its bright pink spine and pulled it out, opening the book to a random page and holding it to her nose. She inhaled deeply. She knew that if anyone ever saw her doing this they would think she was crazy, but she loved the smell of a book fresh from the printing press, something about all that paper pressed together. Books had been her best friends during her lonely childhood. But this book was her favourite.

Lainey closed the book and turned it over to its cover, tracing over the fancy writing and spelling the name of the author. Bronte McAllister. Lainey smiled. She was Bronte McAllister- erotic romance writer and this was her first book- Love, Version 1.0.

She could still remember the day she'd been picked out from the slush pile of authors from the social storytelling platform Wattpad by Suzanne Chestnut, her fabulous agent. Suzanne had seen something in her, a young unknown author, with over one million people reading and voting on her writing. Lainey's mind still spun from how quickly it had all happened. Now her second book- Love, Version 2.0 was due to be released in a month and Lainey felt like the day she could tell Mr Vidler to take his job and shove it was getting closer. She could just picture herself shoving the dustpan in his lap and telling him to clean the mess himself because she was quitting.

Except none of that was going to happen if she didn't get over her little problem. She shoved the book back on the shelf and dug out her laptop where she stashed it beneath her cheap lounge. She sat cross legged, balancing her laptop on her knees and plugged in her small thumb drive. She opened the file, the one that she opened at work earlier today and it still looked like it was written in a different language.

Lainey buried her face in her hands. She was trying to write the third and final instalment to her series Love, Version 3.0 but it was official, Lainey had writer's block like a terrible case of the flu that she just couldn't shake. For four weeks she had attempted to finish her book, but every time she poised her fingers on the keyboard ready to type, all that ever came to mind was yet another break up scene between her two main characters, Lawson and Poppy.

She could picture Mr. Vidler's snarky expression right now, laughing as he told her he still owned her. Or Madison sneering at her cheap shoes. Exasperated, Lainey shoved her laptop aside and pulled out her phone instead opening up the last text message she'd received from James. This was what was causing her writer's block, this right here- the message he'd sent to dump her four weeks ago, almost a year to the day that they had first gotten together:

Lainey, I can't pretend anymore. The last few months have been boring, both in bed and out of it. I don't want to spend my Saturday nights in your apartment while you sit on your laptop working. I'm sorry to do this by text, but we're over. Also, I'm seeing someone else. James.

She cringed when she read her pathetic response:

James, I can change. I know I've been preoccupied with work lately, but I love you and we can work this out. Please.

She hadn't received a response to that. She hadn't spoken to him since, he hadn't even bothered to come back for the few things he'd left in her apartment. He'd really just wanted to move on, but for Lainey, well, her life had been pretty blank since then. She'd loved James, saw a whole future with him. In the blink of an eye that was gone with one simple text message.

But the bit that hurt the most was having him tell her she was boring in bed, especially when all James had wanted to do was watch the latest series on Netflix while she sat on her laptop pretending to be doing work for Vidler Legal but really writing her stories. Looking back she realised she'd been too busy writing about her fantasies rather than living them out, but she'd thought James had been happy with their relationship, including their sex life, so it had come as a shock to be told so bluntly that she was the equivalent to an ice queen.

The next day after their break up, Lainey had thrown out all of her boring old cotton underwear and replaced them with some racier varieties. She'd also bought herself a sex toy- a shiny gold vibrator and made an appointment for a Brazilian wax. That way if James decided to have a change of heart about their break up, she would be ready to surprise him with the best sex of his life. But after four weeks, she'd had to accept that he was really gone and that Brazilian waxes were slightly uncomfortable once they grew back.

Lainey really needed to move on, maybe then she might be more inspired to write, but the problem was, with who? Meeting James was serendipitous, a chance meeting when she'd been working for another legal firm in the city. The electrical contractors James had been working for at the time had been doing an I.T. upgrade throughout her office. She could still remember his sexy smile when he came to her desk, politely asking her if she wouldn't mind moving so that he could do his work. By that afternoon he'd asked her out on a date. But Lainey had no idea how to make that happen again. It wouldn't with her lifestyle. She rarely went out, choosing to stay at home and work on her writing. The only other place she went to was Vidler Legal.

Suddenly the vision of Mr Vidler's broad shoulders in his perfectly cut suit as they stood in the elevator came into her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut tight in an effort to dislodge the thought because it was just too unsolicited. Lainey opened her eyes and reached for her laptop again, trying one more time to type something. She poised her fingers on the keyboard ready to type, but before she even completed her first word, her inbox pinged at her. She stopped, flexed her fingers then brought them back to the mouse pad, clicking it and opening up her email. Despite the interruption, Lainey had to smile. It was from Suzanne. She was yet to meet Suzanne in person, they'd only ever communicated online so far, but Lainey could tell she was a character. The email she was currently staring at was a case in point.

Bronte,

The designer has finally sent me the cover choices for your new book. You have three to choose from, personally I think they all look like flamingo vomit, but meh, what would I know, I'm just the agent.

S

Lainey looked at the three choices for the cover of Love, Version 2.0. She knew almost immediately which one she liked the best, the one with the kissing couple. She liked a good visual when she was reading, that and it matched the cover of her first book. She typed a reply straight away.

I like pink! But the one in the middle looks least like flamingo vomit, so I'll go with that one.

B

Her inbox pinged moments later.

Great, I've locked it in. Any progress reports on book number three? I've just put a deposit on a house in Palm Beach so please tell me it will be a blockbuster hit!!!

Suzanne.

Well pants, thought Lainey. Way to put the pressure on. Lainey typed a quick reply, something along the lines of book number three was coming along swimmingly then switched her attention to her manuscript. But her mind was gone. Between Mr Vidler, James and Suzanne, she knew she had no chance of getting anything out of her brain tonight. Lainey shut down her laptop. How could she consider herself a romance writer when she had no sex life of her own to speak of? How could she write about relationships when she couldn't even get it right herself? Except for break ups, she could write about those.

She switched on the kettle and took out a cup of two minute noodles, closing her eyes as she waited for the jug to boil. It was really quiet in her apartment, quiet and lonely with only memories running through her head to keep her company.