After the floor meeting ended, a group had gathered to discuss which parties they wanted to hit up. Nick had lived most of his life in apprehension of getting to know people, or rather letting them get to know him. Because then they’d find out just how dysfunctional his family was. He started to walk back to his room, planning to stay in and read, but Marcus had caught up with him.
“We’re gonna go out tonight,” he said. “It’s gonna be fun.”
Again, with Marcus’s effortless confidence. Nick had no choice but to believe him. It was the first hint that Marcus was the kind of person who refused to take no for an answer and that he’d refuse to give up on Nick.
“Hey, I want to ask you something,” Marcus said now. His voice took on a tentative tone that warned Nick he probably wasn’t going to like whatever came out of Marcus’s mouth next. “Every August, M&M throws an end-of-summer party where editors present the biggest books of the fall season to tastemakers in the industry. Influencers, book reviewers and librarians, that sort of thing. I’ve been hearing about this party since I got my first internship years ago. It’s a pretty big deal, not to mention that there’s hella free food. But I bring this up because your editor will be presenting your book, and they’d like to extend an invitation to you because it helps if an author is there to speak too. Your editor knows how you value your privacy, so there’s no pressure at all, and I told her I didn’t know if you’d be up for it. I don’t want to speak for you, though, so let me know what you want to do.”
Nick made a face. “They’re gonna flip when they find out I’m not some British dude.”
“It might cause a tiny stir,” Marcus said, shrugging. “But it isn’t like you wrote a memoir and lied about your life. You used a pen name and said you were born in England. People have done worse. Your team will understand if you explain why you lied in the first place.”
“I don’t know . . .” Nick was doubtful that he could be so easily forgiven. The prospect of coming clean wasn’t something he could wrap his mind around. He observed his best friend’s hopeful expression. “You think I should go.”
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t be a good agent if I said no, but I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” Marcus removed his tortoiseshell frames and replaced them with a pair of black circular sunglasses. “Don’t worry about it now, okay? You have weeks to decide. In the meantime, why don’t you let me see what you’ve written? You can come to the office one day next week and we’ll grab dinner on the company dime to talk about the draft.”
Nick gulped. He had managed to write the first chapter of book two, and it was hot garbage. But it was Marcus’s birthday and after all Marcus had done for him, Nick didn’t want to let Marcus down, especially since he already knew he wouldn’t attend M&M’s party and put his face to N.R. Strickland’s name.
“Yeah, cool,” Nick said. “Sounds good.”
Nick followed Marcus back into the living room, which was fuller than when he’d left almost fifteen minutes ago. His eyes scanned the crowd for gold. He spotted Lily bumping her hip with Caleb. She was laughing, her whole face lit up in delight. Nick’s chest panged again.
“Who’s that with Caleb?” Marcus asked.
Nick tore his eyes away from Lily to answer Marcus. “That’s my neighbor Lily.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you said you were bringing her.” Marcus paused, glancing back and forth between Lily and Nick and their matching outfits. “Is something going on there or . . .”
Nick cleared his throat. He wanted to tell Marcus the whole deal with Lily, but tonight was his birthday. He should be having fun, not listening to Nick’s drama. He’d tell him soon, just . . . at another time.
“Nah,” Nick said. “We’re just friends.”
Were they friends, though? Did Lily claim him as a friend? Should she? Probably not. This was all so fucked.
“Right, cool,” Marcus said. “How much you want to bet that all the pepperoni pizza is gone?”
“Oh, um, huh?” Nick mumbled. Marcus had already moved on to a new subject, but Nick’s attention was elsewhere. More accurately, his attention was approximately twenty feet away in the living room. Lily was no longer dancing with Caleb, but she was talking to some dude dressed in a skintight turtleneck with a pick stuck in an Afro that clearly looked like a wig. He was leaning down, his face several inches from Lily’s, and she was nodding as he talked. The pang in Nick’s chest worsened. Why, though? Wasn’t this the reason he’d brought her here? To meet someone else? Mission accomplished. He should be happy! He was happy.