Page 58 of The Write Off
He finally stops talking long enough to try an avocado roll, but the moment the food is in his mouth, he immediately makes a face. “I can tell that you’ve never eaten it in Japan.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“The last time I traveled to Osaka, I ate at a place that was more than two thousand dollars a plate. Worth every yen. I’ll take you sometime.”
I can’t imagine any possible scenario that would involve me traveling to Japan with Bryce.
“Are you getting excited for the release?”
I swallow the salmon roll I’d been chewing and answer, “Yes?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Come on, you can do better than that.”
“I am excited. I’m also a tiny bit anxious. I feel like I still have a lot to learn.”
“That’s completely understandable.” He leans forward, placing his hand on my arm. “This is all new to you, but just remember that you’re not doing it alone. Everyone at Thompson And Daye is behind you, one hundred percent. We’re expecting great things from you, and this series.”
I needed to hear that. I needed to know that they still really believe in the book. Maybe Bryce isn’t the worst after all.
“Don’t you worry,” he says with a wink. “I promise I’ll make your first time special.”
Nope. I hate him.
“First things first, we’re going to schedule you for headshots.”
“Oh, I already have headshots.” I got them done two years ago at my agent’s insistence. I was hesitant, at first. Thanks to the fact that I’ve had the same haircut since the seventh grade, they look up to date. I always look like I don’t want to have my picture taken, probably because I don’t. But the photographer my agent, Angie, found was amazing. She made me laugh through the entire process and as a result, the pictures turned out really natural looking.
“Ah, yes. I’ve seen those and they’re not what we’re looking for. A black turtleneck? We’re not going for an arthouse vibe.” He looks me over again, thoroughly. “I’m picturing you in a long dress that shows off all your assets. Maybe some braids in your hair. Like you’re a sorceress, bewitching your readers. We expect your book to do well with our New Adult demographic, including males eighteen to twenty-five. So, let’s give the nerds the total fantasy, right?”
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
“I don’t think I’m comfortable with that, Bryce. I’ll take new headshots, but I don’t think I should have to sexualize myself to sell my book. The work should stand on its own.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He holds up his hands like I’m holding him at gunpoint. “Who said anything about sexualizing you? That’s not what I meant at all. I’m sorry if it came out that way. It’s just that image is a major part of the publishing business. Do I think people are going to love your book? Absolutely. Do I think it would sell as well as it’s going to if you were a sixty-year-old man? No, I don’t.”
I hate that he might be right. Bryce is a douchebag, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know this business far better than I do.
“Look. This isn’t my first rodeo, Rilla. It’s a cutthroat industry with a lot of competition. The company believes in your book. I believe in it. And because I believe in it so much, I want to use every tool available to us to launch it out of the stratosphere. You’re young and beautiful. These are facts. And I think we’d be stupid not to use that to our advantage. I’ll leave the choice entirely up to you, but do me a favor and think it over.”
I was raised in a very body positive home and I’m comfortable with the way I look. If I feel like wearing something revealing, I do it. No question. No shame. This isn’t even the first time I’ve been asked to use my body to sell something. I’ve quit jobs at bars that wanted me to wear skimpy outfits and be extra “friendly” to the customers. My answer to that was the same as now.
Fuck no.
But I’m not about to tell the man responsible for my book launch to go fuck himself, as much as I would love to.
“I’ll think about it.”
There’s a bad taste in my mouth the entire walk home and it’s not because of the perfectly good sushi. I replay the meeting in my mind like a broken record of a terrible song. I don’t want to be alone with these thoughts. My first instinct is to text Logan, but he’s playing basketball with Josh and Callum.
The next thought I have is to just keep walking. There’s still a chill in the breeze, but there’s no bite to it anymore. The melting snow glistens as the sun’s rays work diligently to make it disappear. Not a bad day to just keep walking and see where my legs take me. But deep down I know no matter how far I go, I can’t outrun this.
So I find myself knocking on the door of the person who can’t fix my problems, but will always make me feel better.
Betty’s look of surprise quickly turns to one of joy. She throws her arms around me for one of her hugs, and today, I find myself returning the embrace and hugging her back.
My friend, knowing me as well as she does, definitely notices. Untangling herself from my arms she asks, “Is everything okay?”
We sit on her couch and I recap everything that happened at lunch, finding it more difficult to speak the words than merely think them. I can’t help but question my own memories. Did I imagine the way he looked at me? Am I making this more than it really is?