A Voice Without Reason, page 5
I rush back to my table and Layla’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise when she spots me. I must be wearing all of my emotions on my face. I shake my head to signal that I am in no mood to talk about it. She nods in solidarity and, when I reach her, she asks, “When do we start the tequila shots?”
One of the readers overhears and chimes in. “The bar just opened. Can we grab you a drink?”
Layla’s lips turn up in a smirk. “Give me five minutes. Who wants to do shots with the amazing Merlot Bennet?”
My shes, gays, and theys in line squeal with excitement. This is either going to be the best or worst idea Layla has ever come up with.
9
JULIAN
I’ve spent the last few hours networking and haven’t seen Becca anywhere. I assumed she would be out here shaking hands like I am, but other than right when the convention opened, she’s nowhere to be found. She had a bit of a line when I left my table earlier, so there’s a chance it never died down.
I make my way back to my table where my assistant is holding down the fort. I take over, giving her a much needed and deserved break. I’m sure she’s bored out of her mind, since no one is here to see me.
While out networking, I ran into one of my best friends from college, who’s starting out as an indie author. Ingrid is so talented; I’m sure she’ll do amazing things if she’s mentored under the wing of other romance authors. If Becca is up to it, I’d love to introduce them.
As I approach my table, there’s hysterical laughter coming from Becca’s. A crowd of at least fifty readers surrounds her. I circle behind my table to get a better view, since the crowd is now encroaching on my space.
Sitting on top of her table with her legs crossed, Becca lifts her glass of wine and clinks it with the couple in front of her. “Congratulations! When is the big day?”
One of the women replies, “Not until August.” They look at each other. “Would you want to come?”
“Fuck yes, I would,” Becca cheers, pulling out her phone. “What’s your social media handle? I’ll add you. Message me when invitations go out and I’ll be there! If I can't, I'll send you all the sapphic merch and character art I can commission so you can make that dickhead dad of yours super uncomfortable.”
They all laugh and I can’t help but join in. Becca exudes so much joy and light, it’s infectious. I come up behind her and whisper in her ear. “Up for taking a walk with me?”
She startles and nearly falls off the table, spilling wine in her lap. “Fucking hell, Julian. You can’t keep sneaking up behind me like that.” One of the men waiting in line takes out a shirt from his bag and hands it to her to clean up. “Thanks, guys. Aw, damn it! These were my favorite pants, too. Red wine does not come out of linen.”
“Sorry, Becca, I didn’t mean—” She glares at me and I quickly realize my slip up. I clear my throat. “I mean, should I get a fresh bottle of merlot for Merlot?” Good save.
“It’s the least you can do,” another woman says, eyeing me up and down like I’m milk that’s turned.
“I’m sorry, Becca,” I whisper, kissing her cheek. She doesn’t hum like she normally does when I touch her.
Something’s wrong.
I head to the bar to grab wine and glasses. I also find a replacement shirt for the guy who was faster than I was to help clean up the mess.
Walking back, the author at the booth across from Becca’s is giving me the side eye. Who knew spilt wine could turn so many people against me? I walk behind her table, set everything down, and pour a fresh glass for Becca.
“Here you go.” I hand her a glass and cheers erupt from the crowd that grew exponentially since I left.
She ignores me and continues with a story, “So, as I was saying, DVP is totally possible in real life. I’d show you, but I want to get invited back here next year.” The crowd laughs and she finally looks at me. “Did you need something, Julian?” Her tone is ice cold. At least on the plane when she gave me short answers, it was playful. This is worse than a brush-off.
The author from the booth across from ours comes over and interrupts the festivities. “Alright everyone. Everything is closing up for the panels. We can’t get Merlot any more drunk than she already is, or she’ll be napping on stage.” There are groans, so the woman adds, “She’ll be signing copies for anyone who is in line.” Excited whispers fill the space and everyone lines up.
“I’m Layla, by the way, and you’re in my spot.”
“Oh, sorry.” I move out of her way.
“Alright, I’ll be your assistant. What do you need, Ms. Bennet?”
Becca laughs and, as she’s about to reply, her friend Amanda approaches. “Who got drunk and forgot to invite me?” Amanda and Layla prep stickers and bookmarks in all of the books to help Becca keep the line moving.
Where is her assistant? They should be fired for leaving her like this.
I’m not sure what’s going on with Becca, but I can tell she doesn’t want me here. I grab my bag and leave with my assistant to find a good seat for the panel she’s on. At least then I’ll be able to see her in her glory and not giving me a death stare.
Ingrid takes a seat to my left as the moderator begins. Her girlfriend, Trinity, is also on the panel; she’s a fellow narrator who specializes in erotica. “Welcome everyone. We have a variety of authors and narrators to discuss today’s topic: Spicy Audiobooks.”
Maybe next year I’ll be asked to join?
I rest my arm on the back of Ingrid's chair and whisper, “Isn’t she stunning? Fuck, I’m out of my league.” Ingrid laughs, but it’s cut short to listen to one of the panelists answer the first question that I missed because I couldn’t keep my eyes off Becca.
“I prefer duet narration when doing books with on-page explicit scenes. When I did Begging for the Billionaire, it was helpful having Brenda doing the part of Jennifer in the book. It’s not impossible for a male narrator to do non-male characters, but when you add in the steamier scenes, it hits differently, you know?” I actually agree with him, even if my experience with romance is limited. I’ve narrated scenes in fantasy books, but nothing close to what Becca writes.
Wait… Begging for the Billionaire? He narrated for Becca?
“Thank you, Bryan.” The audience claps and the moderator continues, “I’m sure working with your wife is helpful when you’re looking for chemistry in an audiobook. Trinity, would you mind answering the same question, since you specialize in sapphic books with duet narration?”
Bryan… Brenda… Oh. Fuck.
I can’t pay attention to Trinity’s answer; my eyes are locked on Becca. Her jaw ticks as she writes something on the paper in front of her. I’ve only known her a week, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that she’s trying her best to keep it together. I swear there are fumes coming out of her ears. This is so incredibly fucked up.
“Thank you, Trinity. Next, we’d love to hear from Merlot. You worked with Bryan on two of your other books, but there wasn’t an audiobook for Delivery of Fate until now. Can you explain the process of looking for a new narrator?” The moderator passes the microphone to Becca.
“Yes, Bryan narrated my debut novel. When Begging for the Billionaire took off, I moved from indie to traditional publishing. My publisher liked the audiobook that we produced together, so they insisted that he do Billionaire as well with… Brenda.” Becca pauses and takes a sip of water, likely to calm whatever emotions she’s feeling. “When my publisher picked up Delivery of Fate and repackaged it for rerelease, I needed a different voice for it.” Becca’s eyes meet mine. “We stumbled upon Julian Evans and he’s perfect for the part.”
“You know, Merlot, Brenda and I could do Delivery of Fate… if you change your mind,” Bryan suggests with a smirk that I want to wipe off with my fist.
Asshole.
My hand flexes, then balls at my side. Ingrid whispers, “Not worth it, buddy. This guy is a total douche, but he’s not taking your contract. Everyone knows the two of them dated and he left Merlot for the other narrator. She would never cast him over you. I think Delivery of Fate is actually a break-up retelling.”
My attention is pulled back to Becca. “I needed someone who gives growly, high fae energy, so a fantasy narrator is the perfect choice.” Becca glances at me briefly and returns her attention to Bryan. “So, I think I’m all set.”
“See, told you.” Ingrid nudges me with her elbow.
“Why would they be on a panel together?” My jaw ticks and I have an unexplainable urge to protect Becca, even if she can hold her own.
“John backed out at the last minute. Family emergency. I offered, but they wanted a male narrator who did romance for the discussions,” Ingrid explains.
This has to be why Becca was so short with me earlier. Who the hell wants to do a panel with their ex? I had no idea she had to work with him after the cheating. I shake my head in disbelief and lean in to whisper, “I think I’m fucked.”
Ingrid frowns. “Why? I told you, he’s not going to take it from you.”
“No, not that. I fucking like her… a lot. But I don’t think I have a chance with her.” I rake my hand through my hair.
“I’m not into men, but I’ll admit, you’re a catch. Go for it. A piece of advice, though, you might want to look single while you try to woo the biggest name in the romance industry.” She removes my arm from behind her chair and nods toward the stage. Becca’s eyes dart away as soon as I look her direction.
Damn it! On top of everything else, it probably looks like I’m flirting with Ingrid.
For the next half hour, I’m not paying attention to anything but Becca. At one point, Layla hands Becca a shot of what looks like tequila and the crowd goes nuts. There were whispers behind me about how much they love Merlot and that they’ll be rushing to her table as soon as this is over to grab all of her books. I sink further into my chair. Trying to get Becca’s attention today is going to be a challenge.
The panel comes to a close and the moderator thanks everyone for their time. I kiss Ingrid on the cheek and whisper, “I’ll catch you later. I need to see about a girl.”
10
BECCA
What started out as one of my favorite conventions has taken a turn for the worse. Not only was I forced to do a panel with my ex, I had to watch a guy I thought I liked flirt with a beautiful woman in the crowd. I risk the jinx and mutter to myself, “Could today get any worse?”
As I make it back to my table, there’s forty or fifty readers lined up. I internally swear; I’m going to run out of books.
Amanda and Layla are waiting for me. “You guys don’t need to stick around. Get back to your tables, you have your own readers to meet!” I insist.
“Um, have you seen the line? It’s all the way outside. They aren’t here for us, they’re here for you. Plus, our assistants can send our readers over to your table and we can sign here,” Amanda says with a shrug. “We’re in this together ladies. Fuck that Evans guy and fuck Bryan.”
Layla pours three shots of tequila. Mixing wine and tequila isn’t the best idea, but Amanda, being the mom of our little group, has trash bags ready. I hope we won’t need them.
“To the amazingly talented Merlot Bennet!” Layla raises her glass and the crowd booms with cheers.
Despite how I’m feeling, my heart soars at the sound. Maybe it was an anti-jinx. This is too fucking cool.
We down our shots without chasers, which earns us more applause. “Thank you for helping me. I don’t know what I would do without you two.” I wrap my arms around them. “Ok, let’s do this.”
Amanda preps the books with smutty stickers and bookmarks, and Layla handles my book sales. I’m able to focus my attention on my amazing readers.
A couple approaches and they are far too attractive for words. I take note of their appearance for a later date. She has dark auburn hair, piercing sky blue eyes, and is in great shape for a woman who might be in her forties. The man is around the same age, with sandy blond hair, tattoos on both forearms peeking through a button up shirt expertly cuffed. I like the contrast between the ink and the dress shirt. “That was amazing,” the woman squeals. “Fuck that narrator. I heard about how that all went down with you two. My authors refuse to work with him and Brenda because of it.”
“Em, you can’t be word-vomiting on her. It’s the Merlot Bennet, for Loki’s sake.” He hands me a book to sign. “You were incredible, Merlot. That man is ketchup pre-cum; not worth your time. Vacation with the Enemy is one of my all time favorites, by the way.”
I chuckle. “Thanks. Who should I make this out to?”
He picks up three more copies of Vacation with the Enemy. “One for Sage, Mel, Charlotte and one made out to the magnificent Ethan Barlowe.” The woman sets one more copy on the stack. “And, apparently, one for Emma.”
“You wouldn’t, by chance, need representation?” Emma asks. “That was quite the panel, and I’d love to work with you.”
“I’m happy with Cassie, but thank you.” It’s always awkward talking to agents and publishers. I’m still pretty new to traditional publishing and miss the days when I could just write, send off to an editor, and put it out into the universe whenever I felt like it.
“If you change your mind, I’ll be the first in line.” She hands me her card. Emma Alexander.
“Alright, enough sales pitching, Em.” Ethan smacks her arm.
I finish signing their books, and he asks, “Up for another shot? Name your price. It would be the highlight of my life. Just don’t tell my wife I said that. Or my kids…”
Emma laughs. “I’m totally telling Mel.” I assumed these two were married, but it appears they’re just good friends. “Thanks again, Merlot. You’re amazing.”
Layla pours five shots. “Alright, let’s do this.”
The five of us take our shots and I decide this has to be the last one I do for a while—I want to be buzzed, not drunk. “Thanks for coming today. It was great meeting you two.” Emma and Ethan walk away and the line has only grown.
About to greet the reader approaching, Julian’s familiar purr comes from behind, startling me. “You might need these.” He sets down a bottle of water and an individually packaged aspirin. I don’t turn or acknowledge him.
Amanda gives him a side eye. “My girl can handle her liquor.”
I chuckle softly. “Amanda, it’s fine.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll go. Let me know if you need anything.” Julian’s footsteps echo on the cement floor as he walks away.
There might not be anything romantic between us, but we’ll be working together, so I should at least thank him for the friendly gesture. He’s just trying to be nice.
“Julian.” He turns. “Thank you.” Our eyes lock and it’s as if time stops. There’s a hunger in his gaze and I can count on one hand how many times someone has looked at me like this. All of those times were him. I can’t look away.
Layla’s throat clears, pulling me from whatever the hell that was. I return my attention to the readers. “Hi there. Who should I make this out to?”
The last few hours were a blur. Amanda and Layla were amazing and I don’t think I ever would’ve been able to get through the line without them. Their assistants brought over boxes of their books and all of us sold out before the convention was even over.
Layla insists there’s an amazing Mexican food restaurant a block away, so we grab a few bottles of water and chug them before heading out. We need to sober up before the VIP reader event tonight.
Four carne asada tacos and a heaping serving of guacamole and chips later, I’m definitely on my way to being presentable in a professional setting. This convention is the only one I’ve been to that served alcohol, and while it makes it a fun experience, I need to be more careful next time.
Seeing Bryan today should have had more of an effect on me, but I was too caught up in how it felt to see Julian with the other authors. Man, I know how to pick ‘em.
“So, what’s going on with Julian? And why was he hotter today than when we saw him at the hotel bar?” Amanda asks, placing her credit card in the leather folder.
I was really hoping to avoid the whole Julian discussion. I sigh. “There’s nothing going on with him. He’s a big flirt, and he’s probably just using me to break into the romance genre.”
“Sucks you have to work with him, I would have tapped that already. I saw the way he looked at you. Guy is crushing hard,” Amanda insists.
“He was flirting with a woman during the panel. I’m telling you: he’s just a flirt. He’s not into me like that.” Even if we did kiss. It must have meant nothing to him.
Amanda laughs. “You mean Ingrid? She’s with Trinity. If he was flirting with her, he’s barking up the wrong tree.”
“He was a little touchy-feely with a few other authors, though.” Layla shrugs. “I doubt he’s using you, but he definitely wants to get in your pants.”
“Speaking of assholes who use people.” Amanda gestures to the door. Bryan and Brenda walk in.
Fuck. I can’t even enjoy guacamole in peace.
They approach our table. “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” Brenda says, a little too sickeningly sweet. “Can we join you?”
“We were just leaving.” I stand. “Excuse me. I’m going to use the restroom before heading back.”
I walk quickly to the bathroom that I don’t need to use. I’ll wait it out until our bill is settled up.
Ten minutes of pacing later, I get a text from Layla that we’re ready to go but that Julian is here, too. I wash my hands, reapply my blue-red lipstick, and walk out. I need to get out of here, fast. I take the corner too quickly and face-plant into a hard chest.
“Slow down, kitten.”
I suck in a breath and my stomach drops. Bryan. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
