Page 14 of A Bookish Story

“Of course, you couldn’t tell anyone about this. You’d have to sign an NDA, which I’m sure you’ve already done for your ghostwriting.”

I nod because of course I have. “But I’ve never been on TV before.”

“That makes two of us.”

I’ve always been in the background where I’m comfortable. I don’t participate in author panels the way Ryan has. No one has ever asked. This is like asking the backup singer to headline the show. She might have the vocal chops, but she doesn’t have the stage presence. I can’t possibly do this. I’m not ready for prime time.

But Ryan is still making his case. “You’d make the perfect Elizabeth Brogan.”

“Here’s the thing. I like being in the background. Sure, I want to get my own book published some day, but all this…it’s scary.”

Ryan nods as if he totally gets it. Most writers, after all, are introverts who would rather stay home than go to a party. Some of my best days are when plans are canceled and I can just stay home.

But Sofia’s words to me come back, how I sometimes make myself small to accommodate others. She thinks it’s what happened with Chris. I gave him so much room he walked straight out of my life. I’ve never wanted to challenge the status quo. I go along with the way things are because it’s easier than fighting.

On the other hand, if there ever is a time to ask for the moon…this might be the moment. He’s desperate. He needs a woman all right, but not just any woman. Someone who can fake being the writer of his book because oh let’s see, she is a writer. Someone who will keep quiet about the deception because she understands the need for privacy and confidentiality. He needs someone special.

Someone like me.

A few minutes ago, I was ready to part ways with Ryan forever but that would have been shortsighted.

I tip my chin, projecting my voice. “Naturally, I would need to be appropriately compensated for this project.”

“Whatever you need.”

A long silence stretches between us.

“So…let me get this straight.” I put a hand to my chest. “You want Elizabeth Brogan to be my pen name. And you want me to pretend I wrote the book you did.”

“Exactly.”

“And I obviously can’t tell anyone. I’ve got to tell everyone that I wrote the book. My friends, my family.”

“Right.”

“The most popular book in the country.”

“Apparently.”

“So, it’s like the reverse of what I usually do.” I gesture to him. “You’re the ghostwriter.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s the only way to put it. You did the work. I take the credit. I know the drill.”

Ryan is quiet, just closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, and a long silence stretches between us.

“When is this interview being filmed?”

“Monday,” he says miserably.

“Monday! Monday as in two days from today? Monday as in the day that comes after Sunday, which is tomorrow?”

He groans. “Why do you think I’m here? This is the emergency.”

“Give me a minute,” I say, holding up a finger. “I need to think.”

Behind his spectacles, Ryan’s eyes are wide and dare I say hopeful. He can see I’m considering this.