That is exactly what people are thinking right now. What the hell happened to you? Where did you go? Who are you doing?”
I laughed. “Who am I doing?” I couldn’t believe she said that.
“Yes. You know … who are you slee—”
“Oh, I get it,” I said, cutting her off. “I just don’t understand why they care.”
“You’re a celebrity, Jake.”
“No,” I told her, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my desk while holding the phone to my ear with one hand and raking my other hand through my unruly hair. “Ashton Kutcher is a celebrity. Mila Kunis is a celebrity. I’m an author.”
“A famous author.”
Okay, maybe she had me there, although that word still left a weird taste in my mouth. I definitely didn’t see myself as famous. Famous people didn’t spend most of their time locked up in their condo, alone.
If I had to describe myself in one word, private would be what came to mind. I didn’t enjoy being in the public eye, didn’t want people watching what I did, what I said, who I screwed, what I ate for breakfast, how I lived my life. And not only because I was far from perfect, having done some crazy shit over the years, or because, for the past year, I’d spent the majority of my time in a whirlwind of family problems, either. Yet, somehow, because of the books I’d written, that was exactly where I’d found myself. Smack dab in the center of it all, even when I’d been lying low for a year.
“It’s time you get back out there, Jake. You can’t hide forever,” Liz said, her tone even, worried.
“I’m not hiding,” I reassured her.
I was definitely hiding.
“Did that article not catch your attention?” she inquired.
“Why would it?” I really did enjoy getting her riled up.
And, okay, yes, the article had caught my attention, there was no doubt about that. With words like mysterious and sexy and bad boy … how could it not?
“Jake, your name’s out there once again. People are asking about you, waiting for you to come out of your hidey hole.”
Hidey hole? Really?
I sighed. At the risk of repeating myself, I said, “I’m not hiding, Liz.”
“Then why don’t I believe you? Do you realize how much attention this has drawn?”
Yes, in fact, I did. Based on the amount of attention I’d received lately, I think that article had catapulted me onto everyone’s radar.
Since the popular blog had posted the lengthy exposé three days ago, wondering where I’d disappeared to, I’d been inundated with calls, emails, and tweets, all from people trying to get the inside scoop as to what I’d been up to for the past year. I’d seen the Facebook posts and the Tweets, most asking what I was working on—not to mention what (and who) I was doing, whether or not I would ever write another novel, if I’d gone on a drunken bender, gotten married (and/or divorced), been abducted by aliens, taking care of a love child, secretly become a game show host (seriously?)… Oh, the speculation was endless, really, and people were desperate for answers.
“Jake, they want to know when your next book will be released. I need to be able to tell them.” Gone was the teasing note in Liz’s voice; in its place, Serious Liz, the Editor had taken over.
“I wish I had an answer.” It was the same thing I’d told her on every phone conversation we’d had for the past few months. And I was no closer to knowing now than I had been every other time I’d answered.
Sure, I’d been busy for the past year. Busy doing every fucking mundane thing I could think of that might possibly spur the idea for another book. I’d come back to Texas, helped my sister and my niece to get back to what was now their new normal, bought a condo, and settled in somewhat. That was quite the resume for one year, if you asked me.
However, I most certainly hadn’t gotten married. Or divorced. Nor was my disappearance from the public eye anything as exciting as the fodder for the tabloids. In fact, my disappearance had nothing to do with me at all.
Granted, that brief stint I did in jail probably qualified as exciting—initiating a bar fight was never a good thing—but as far as I knew, that story had died a long time ago. Thank God.
Truth was, these days my life was rather boring. Before toggling over to that piece, I’d been sitting here,