Chapter 19
Grayson
It’s funny how situations can change so fast, and not always for the better. At least not now. What just happened is one of those situations. Rowan texted me a little while ago that she wants to see me about something, but she wouldn’t say what. I don’t really want to see her right now. I don’t really want to see anyone when I’m feeling like I feel at the moment, but I felt bad saying no to her, so she’s on her way over. I’m just sitting here like an idiot, staring at an open email in complete disbelief. A reader who I’ve known since I published my first book sent me a message on Facebook messenger that I should check my email. When I did I saw that she’d sent me a screenshot of something that changed my whole mood.
I’m still just staring, feeling dejected, when I hear Rowan knocking on the door. The sound snapped me out of my funk for a second, and I jump up to let her in. “Hey,” she says.
“Hey.”
I know I sound like a mopey asshole, but I can’t help it right now. She picks up on it right away. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.” I’m lying through my teeth, and badly I might add. I don’t know why I don’t just cop to how I feel when people ask me. My default is always to just say ‘nothing’ even when it’s obvious that it isn’t the case.
“It doesn’t look like nothing, Gray. You look pissed. Are you alright? Did something happen?”
“Yeah, something happened. I’m a fucking idiot, that’s what happened.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t get it.”
I walk back over to my laptop that’s still sitting open to the email. I pick the computer up and hand it tp her. “Just read.”
“Oh my God,” she says after reading the email. “Is this legit?”
“Yeah. I trust Carmen. She’s a ride-or-die reader. Always supportive, always truthful and upfront. If she took the time to send this to me then it’s legit. I also checked the website afterwards. Only me, right?”
“But wait, I’m confused. How?”
“How?” I ask, sounding annoyed. “I chose the wrong person to trust, apparently. That’s how. I’m a fucking moron.”
“Gray. . .”
“I mean, you think I’d know better. I guess I’m just that desperate to be successful that I do stupid shit. I deserve this.”
“Grayson, stop.”
“So this person I sent my WIP to before it was even done. . .well, there’s mistake number one. I sent it as a Word file. Mistake number two. God, it sounds idiotic to say out loud. What a dick I am.”
“So she. . .”
“Uploaded my shit to a piracy website? Yup. There it is.”
“Wait, that’s a thing? People steal books and upload them to other websites.”
“For free, yeah. Welcome to the fucking jungle.”
Piracy. It’s still a thing. Most people who hear piracy think of movies or music. Most people don’t realize there’s a whole black market that exists online for pirated books. There are whole websites devoted to the buying and selling of stolen ebook files that were uploaded without the author’s permission for free. It’s a plague that no one talks about, but a simple Google search yields way too many of those sites. That’s why author’s watermark their files before they’re uploaded. It’s why ARC’s say “ARC COPY” on them when they’re distributed. And here’s me, sending an incomplete, unedited, and non-watermarked file to a fan I don’t know that well. What. An. Asshole. I. Am.
“That’s awful. These books aren’t even that expensive to begin with. People steal a 99 cent book to upload for free. That sounds crazy.”
“It is. There are a lot of crazies out there who do this kind of stuff. And the sad part is that I know that, and I still wasn’t careful.”
“Grayson, I’m so sorry.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. It’s there for comfort—to make me feel better, but I don’t even realize what I shrug her off. I stand up abruptly. I feel so angry right now that I don’t know what do with myself. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Jesus, Rowan, not everything is about you!” The second the words leave my lips I regret saying them. I’m feeling so angry right now, but it’s an anger at myself. Even so, I can’t seem to stop externalizing it. “I’m going through some shit right now, don’t you get it!”
“Hey, don’t yell at me, I’m trying to help.”
“Are you? Is that what you’re doing? I don’t know how you can help me with this. You know I’m not some charity case. You always try to fix me, or tell me what I’m feeling isn’t right.”
“I’m sorry that I was trying to help you. But if you’d rather wallow in self-pity then be my guest.”
She jumps off the couch and I feel like shit. “Rowan, wait.”
“No, fuck you Grayson. If you don’t need me then I’m gone. Enjoy feeling sorry for yourself. And you were right about one thing, I guess you are an idiot.”
She slams my door as she leaves. I didn’t think it was possible to feel any worse than I did before, but once again my judgment is off. That last line she said before leaving stung, but not as much as the hurt in her eyes. I know that she was just trying to make me feel better and be supportive, but I couldn’t feel that in the moment. All I felt was my own anger.
I slam my laptop shot and wonder how I could have lost two things that were so important to me in a single day—my new book, and the woman I was falling in love with.
Chapter 20
Grayson
It’s been twenty four hours since Rowan left. She was the last person to leave my place, because I’ve been locked in my room for a full day. I came out to go to the bathroom but that’s it. I haven’t eaten. I’ve barely slept. My phone keeps going off, and I check it from time to time. Colton texted me twice, and Mike’s been texting me non-stop. I don’t answer, even though I know I should, especially with how I acted skipping town. But I don’t have it in me to explain anything via text.
When I hear the key in the door it doesn’t shake me at all. May sound strange, but we all have keys to each other’s places. We never abuse the privilege, but we’ve always thought of one of our homes as all of our homes. We’re brothers, after all. On some level I knew one of them would come over to see me. I get up and open my bedroom door and see Mike holding two cups of coffee. “Fuck,” he says, looking me up and down. “It’s worse than I thought. I should have gotten a venti. Milk in the fridge?”
“Yeah. And sugar on the counter if you need.”
“Nah, I’m trying this no sugar diet Everleigh read about.”
“How’s that going? Sounds awful.”
“That’s a fair assessment. It’s harder than you’d think. Fucking everything has sugar or high fructose corn syrup in it. Like, everything. This bottle of water has has 8 grams of sugar, I swear.”
“How’s your mood? I read that people who stop carbs and sugar can have some bad mood swings?” I realize the irony of my question right after I ask it. Mike catches it and smiles as he pours milk in both of our coffees.
“You really wanna talk about my mood? I’m good. You, on the other hand could use a shower, a shave, and about three of these. Here.” He hands me my drink and I gulp it like a dehydrated man who found water in the desert. “God, I needed this. Thanks again.”
“Answer your texts nexts time, dude. This dark, brooding shit is running a little thin. With everyone, not just me.”
“Is that why Colt’s not here with you? Our move is usually to double team the guy in the group who’s struggling. Even back in college, remember?”
“Yeah I do. I remember doing this shit in college, but college was a long time ago, man. We need to start growing up with some of this shit.”
I can hear Mike’s frustration. He’s a laid back guy, but I can tell he’s pissed at me, at least in the way we get pissed at each other. We’re all grown men—we never lecture each other too much. But sometimes a tone of voice is enough to let us know we’ve crossed a boundary with the other two guys. “I’m not doing it intentionally, you know. I didn’t have a plan to sit in a dark room for twenty four hours after yelling at Rowan and pissing you off. It just happened.”
“No.” Mike says. It’s such a weird and definitive response that it gets my attention. “No, Gray.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean you’re bullshitting right now. You’re rationalizing. Making excuses to make yourself feel better, but that’s the problem. You need to own your shit here.”
“And what shit is that, Mike?”
“The inability to deal with your own demons. Call it whatever you want—insecurity, depression, fear of failure—maybe a combination of all those things that doesn’t even have a name. I don’t know, I’m not a shrink. But whatever the issues are, they’re clearly there. I had them and I dealt with them. Colt’s dealing with his. You’re the only one of the group who still runs and hides. Literally.”
Mike’s never spoken to me like this. My first reaction is that same anger I felt at Rowan before, but the more he talks the more I know he’s just trying to give me some truth and tough love. Still, it’s hard to sit here and listen to another person call me out on all my shit. “I don’t know what to say, man. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me. Or to Colton. I don’t know about Rowan, that’s on you to figure out. But we don’t need your apologies, we need you to change your behavior. Plain and simple.”
“Is this a threat, Mike? Like, stop getting depressed or I’m out of the Wordsmiths?”
“This isn’t Survivor, dude. We’re not voting you off the island. You think I’d come here and threaten you? Fuck the Wordsmiths. We care about you getting better. I don’t care if you write another book, or if you’re in a writing group with Colt and I. Our friendships predate all this book shit, and they’ll still be there if we all quit tomorrow. You need to get better for you, not for us.”
I don’t expect this to happen, but I start crying. I feel like a dick. I feel guilty. I feel a whole lot of bad things mixed together, but mostly I feel like I’ve let everyone down by not carrying my weight in any of the relationships I’m in. Mike comes over and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, hey. It’s alright. Trust me, things can get better. It’s hard to see that now, but I know it’s true. I’ve been through it. You helped me to see that. Now it’s your turn to take your own advice.”
“It feels too late, Mike. It feels like I’ve screwed everything up and alienated everyone.”
“Hey. Look at me. You haven’t. You’re not a serial killer, man, you’ve got to relax. So you yelled a little and you have a bad habit of disappearing. Colt almost went to jail. I almost drank myself to death. We all have issues. I’m not here to judge, I’m here to help you like you helped me. It’s time to take ownership of your problems and get better. Simple. Not easy, but simple.”
Shit. You can tell we’re all writers. We know how to form sentences in such a way that they have the most impact possible. Mike just did that with me. I’ve known everything he’s saying for a long time, and I don’t disagree with any of it. But knowing it and acting on it are different things. I’ve done the former for years. Now it’s time to do the latter.
“How?” I ask. “What do I do? Every time I think I have shit under control something happens and I feel like I’ve take one step forward and two back.”
“I have a list.”
“You have a what?”
“You heard me.” Mike smiles and literally pulls out a little folded note from his pants pocket. “We’ve all been thinking about this. We love you and want to help.”
“Who’s we?”
“Me and Colt. Which now also includes Ev and Harley. You’re on your own with Rowan. Like I said, that’s up to you to fix whatever damage you might have done there. But in terms of getting better, we need to consult our list.”
I start laughing. I don’t mean to, and I don’t want him to think I’m not taking this seriously, but the idea that they all sat around making a list is funny to me. “Okay. I’m all ears.”
“Therapy. You need to go back to therapy. Colton went through it and he said that Cordelia woman changed his life. He already reached out to her if you want to go. He also thinks you need to get back to Jiu Jitsu and working out regularly.”
“Okay. I like both ideas.”
“That’s it.”
“That’s it? That’s your list?” I laugh. “Two things? Did you really need a piece of paper for that?”
“Two things,” he says. “That’s true. But those aren’t simple things. Therapy will help you understand why you act like you do and help you with coping mechanisms. Exercise will balance you while you go to therapy. Boom. Done.”
“That easy?”
“Like I said—simple, not easy. It’s a process, but it’s one you need to start asap. Either that or just agree to live in your room forever like a weirdo. But take a stand, one way or the other.”
“thank you, Mike. For everything. For not giving up on me. All of you.”
“Never. Not my style. I want you to call Cordelia today. She’s expecting you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And after that, I want you to take a shower and get the fuck out of this place.”
“Wanna get food or something?”
“Can’t today, but why don’t you train a little. Get a good hour long workout and come back here and do something productive.”
“I can’t write my book anymore,” I tell him. “Do you know?”
“About the piracy? Yeah, Ro called Ev yesterday after your little thing. That sucks. I know better than anyone.”
“Right. I forgot for a second.”
“I’ve been through this. You have to move forward. Why don’t you just focus on the book we’re co-writing. Colton got a sick image from G. I’ll show you next time we’re all together. My editor’s on standby, and I made a Google Doc that I’ll email to you. Stop focusing on what you lost. There’s work to be done. Just go do it and make something happen for yourself.”
“I will. Pinky swear. But you have to promise me something.”
“What?” He asks.
“Promise me your first book with a publisher will be a self-help book, cause you’re good at giving advice.”
“I’m good at taking it, too. I learned from the best. Now get the fuck up and make that call.”
“You got it.”
“And, hey, before I go—do you want me to have Ev look into this? The piracy thing?”
“No, man. You guys are planning a wedding. The last thing she needs is to waste her time with some book world drama.”
“Everleigh is a beast, dude. She’s go the wedding all set up and she still finds time to keep up with the indie world. She reads every night and still maintains all the relationships she’s always had in the book world. I’ll run it by her.”
“Thanks, Mike, I really appreciate it.”
“You were there for me when I was a mess. We all seem to take turns at that, but we also take turns helping each other get better. I’ve gotta run. I want you to text me later on this evening. Tell me how the gym was, and let me know what you think of the story so far.”
“I will. Thanks again, Mike. For everything.”
“What are brothers for?”
We hug it out, and I feel something north of bad but something south of my best self. I guess feeling like myself is going to take a little while. But like Mike said, it’s a process, and I have to go through it. I know the Wordsmiths will be fine, and I know that I can write more books when I get my head back in the game. What I’m really worried about is any damage I might have done with Rowan. I was a complete asshole yesterday, and she didn’t deserve any of it. In fact, I haven’t given nearly as much to her as she’s been giving to me. She’s been supportive when I was down, she dealt with my bullshit, and she always tried to lift me up. In return I’ve been neglectful and distant. I’ve got to make things right with her. I just don’t know how.
It’s a process. Now it’s time to start down the road to recovery.