Page 60 of Death of the Author

“Almost there,” Msizi said.

“Zelu!” Someone managed to squeeze in between her and Msizi, holding out his hand for her to shake. He was an average-looking white man of average height, wearing an average navy blazer over an average white dress shirt. But this was no average man. This was Jack Preston, the wealthiest person in the world. He owned and acted as CEO of the largest and most powerful corporation on the globe, and he’d acquired several other companies in the last decade, too. There wasn’t much you could buy these days that did not move through something he owned. The man had even funded a private spacecraft company that launched commercial rockets and took human passengers into space.

Zelu would have been stunned at any other time. However, she was still reeling from the agony of sitting through two hours of her life’s work being ground through a blender. Jack Preston would have to wait. She stepped sideways to get around him.

He stepped sideways, too. Zelu glared at him, her lip curling. What the hell?

“You look like you didn’t like it,” he said.

She needed out of this exchange, out of this theater, out of this country, off this planet. “Ihatedit,” she growled. She blinked.Shit, she thought.Shouldn’t have said that.Not to him. Not to anyone she didn’t know.

Jack just grinned and laughed heartily. “That’s a shame. Because from now on, when people think of you, they’ll think of this. Well, until you do something bigger.”

“Excuse us,” Msizi said, stepping between Jack and Zelu with a sheepishgrin. He looked closely at her eyes; she could feel the right one twitching. “Come on, my love, eh?” She nodded. He took her hand and they continued to walk away.

I’ve been deleted from my own story, she thought.They’ve just erased me.

“Nice to meet you!” Jack Preston called after them.

27

Enter the Dragging

The next morning, she hid her head under her covers. The crisp, cool white sheets smelled of lavender. Sunlight spilled in from the open curtains, filtering through her blanket and casting a warm yellow glow through her private cave.

She’d fallen asleep last night still wearing her stupid, flashy clothes. The uniform of her greatest humiliation. She wanted to tear them off, slip out of her own body, and become a ghost.

Msizi was lying beside her, but she didn’t care much what he was doing. When she’d woken, he’d been frowning at his phone screen. Probably reading early reviews of the film.

How could this have happened? She’d written a book people loved. It had been optioned by a great studio with a great director attached. She curled tighter into herself as she thought of all the other movies he’d directed and how much she loved them.

Msizi’s hand thrust into her sanctuary. It was holding her phone. “Your agent,” he said. “Answer it. He’s been calling you all morning.”

“Blah,” she groaned. But she took the phone and accepted the call, putting it on speaker.

“Hold on to your hat, Zelu,” her agent said by way of greeting. “You’re going to be onCode Switch!”

The fog of self-loathing lifted for a moment as she pushed herself up. “Huh?”Code Switchwas one of the most popular news programs in the country. Zelu and her family watched it every day at prime time from wherever they were and then group-chatted about it. The host, Amanda Parker, was a serious journalist, and she rarely brought guests on for purely promotional reasons. “Why do they wantme?”

“Everyoneloves the movie!” he raved. “Have you seen the reviews?”

She cringed. “Not yet.” She pushed the covers off her head, letting out all the warmth. The cool of the room wafted over her face. She looked at Msizi. He smiled apologetically and shrugged.

“What would I even say to Amanda Parker?” she asked her agent.

“Just say you’re grateful people like it and you’re excited by the reaction, blah, blah. It won’t be anything deep. It’s good publicity for you.” Before she could even respond, he continued, “I’ll set it up. They want you in the studio in a few hours. That’s show biz, huh? Ain’t it great to be in LA?” Then he was gone.

Zelu’s mouth was still open, some half-formed response lost on her lips. She looked at Msizi again.

He laughed. “Don’t act allwoe is me. It’s exciting and you know it.”

“I don’t want to talk about that movie, Msizi,” she said.

“I know.”

“I hate it so much.”

“Oh, I know.”