BECKY
　　Earlier that day
　　“I’m so sorry, Becks. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” Mona stood in her hotel room with a sniffing and coughing Jonathan, clutching a blanket.
　　“Stop apologizing. Just move the meeting to a place where Jonathan can play.”
　　Mervyn gaped at her. “Just like that? You want to sign a contract at some hobo place?”
　　“Family restaurants aren’t hobo places. What the hell is wrong with you lately? You have a stick up your ass?”
　　His face fell. Becky hated it when Mervyn acted snobby over restaurants that catered to kids. They were people, too. Hopefully one day he’d want a child; then he’d come begging for a character reference to adopt.
　　“You do know we’re meeting with the executives of FireQuill Studios, right?”
　　“Yes, and I am a normal person with a kid problem.”
　　“You are not normal, Becky. You are Rebecca-fucking-Finlay. And youdon’t have a kid problem. Shedoes.” He pointed at Mona.
　　Mona playfully snapped her teeth at the finger Mervyn pointed in her face.
　　Unmoved, he said, “Lesley is not going to love this one.”
　　“Then she can find herself another client. I’m sure there are plenty of firms that would love to take me on.”
　　“Ouch! Momma bear is on fire,” Mona sang.
　　“Be glad she’s Rebecca Finlay, girl. This would not fly with anyone else.”
　　“I’m with Becks. Take that plank out of your ass, Fancy Pants.”
　　“Enough,” Becky warned. “The two of you are worse than a couple of five-year-olds. Mervyn, it’ll be fine. The ‘hobo restaurant’ will just have to do for today. Mona, make the arrangements, and please don’t let anyone find out I’ll be there. I’m not ready to deal with cameras.”
　　“FireQuill Studios is not going to love this.”
　　“Fuck FireQuill Studios. If they don’t understand, maybe they’re not the right production company.”
　　Mervyn rolled his eyes. “Whatever you want, Your Highness.”
　　Becky frowned. “Stop that. That was the most ridiculous thing they’ve ever written about me.”
　　“You are thatgood, Rebecca,” Mervyn protested. “That article was as good as being crowned the Queen of England…without the big-ass castle.”
　　“Not really,” she said.
　　“You’re not even going to try and embrace the nickname, are you?”
　　“No, because it’s a dumbass title. I’m only an author who loves telling her stories.”
　　“Your stories are the shit, though,” Mona added.
　　“And that is all I want.”
　　“Oh, stop. You love the money, too. Buying whatever Zach and Chloë want. Don’t try to deny it.”
　　Becky’s face fell. She sighed. “If only money could buy the things I truly want for my children.”
　　“Is something wrong with them?” Mona asked.
　　“They’re teenagers. It’s probably normal not to want anything to do with me.”
　　“Yeah,” Mervyn agreed. “That’s teenagers, pretty much. Although…you can always bribe them.”
　　“It doesn’t work! But maybe I just wasn’t strong enough.”
　　“Everything will work out fine, Becks.” Mona rubbed her back. “You’ll see.”
　　“I hope so.” She gave Mona a small smile.
　　Mervyn clapped. “It’s time to get you dressed for the hobo restaurant. Even if they don’t deserve Rebecca Finlay, you still have to look worth every penny.”
　　She rolled her eyes. “Do I really have to?”
　　“Yes, it’s a must. And I have justthe number that will go with those dreamy legs of yours, and fit the hobo restaurant vibe. We don’t want you to stick out like a sore thumb,” he said, sticking his finger in Becky’s face. “Even though you deserve to stand out. I just don’t think the hobo restaurant is the right occasion for that.”
　　“Dreamy legs,” she scoffed, ignoring the snobbish comments. “I’m, like, ancient.”
　　“Forty isn’t ancient, babe,” Mervyn said. “It’s the new thirty.”
　　Becky burst out laughing.
　　“Besides, you don’t look a day older than twenty-six. It’s like you found the Fountain of Youth and took a dive.”
　　If there was one thing Mervyn was great at, it was dishing out compliments, worthy ones.He always managed to make her feel like a million bucks.
　　Mervyn was right about Lesley not liking the change of plans, but to Becky’s surprise, FireQuill Studios didn’t give a rat’s ass about the venue.
　　Mona chose a family restaurant, a Texan-style steakhouse, which suited Becky, because she was in the mood for a great steak.
　　“They have the best ribeye,” Mona said.
　　Mervyn scoffed openly, and Becky wanted to slap him, but she desperately needed him to remain her agent and do what he did best. So, it was in her interest to not risk giving him a headache.
　　Lunch was surprisingly good. Becky scarfed hers down, while Jonathan ran around in the playground.
　　And then the negotiations began.
　　Becky’s lungs tightened. She hated the amount of money that was being thrown around, and quickly excused herself.
　　“Please, carry on, but you’ll have to excuse me. I trust Lesley and Mervyn to do what’s needed.”
　　She wanted to get as far away from that table as possible. It wasn’t just because of themoney. Paul Weaver, one of the executives—a handsome man—made her uneasy. Something about him gave her a funny feeling. She could be wrong; her taste in men had surprised her a few times when timing had just been off.
　　In the ladies’ room, she took one quick look at herself in the mirror and sighing bent over the basin, but just as she was about to splash water on her face, Mervyn’s voice yelled in her head, telling her not to mess up her makeup.
　　Resigned to her fate, she instead washed her hands, dabbed icy water on her neck to cool down, and took a few deep breaths.
　　“You are Rebecca Finlay. You can do this,” she chanted to herself in the mirror.
　　The Queen of the Literary World.
　　What a dumb thing to be called.
　　As she walked out of the bathroom, her eyes caught Jonathan playing alone on the playground. He was such a sweet boy, had the most beautiful blue eyes, and golden brown skin.
　　His father was Caucasian, and the biggest asshole Becky had ever met. He’d only been good at one thing and one thing only; getting Mona pregnant.
　　Mona was a beautiful, strong African woman who loved life. That was the best way Becky could describe her.
　　A memory of taking Zach and Chloë to the park when they were Jonathan’s age flitted through her mind. If only she could get back those times.
　　Phil used to play with them, crawling behind them on the jungle gym.
　　Standing there, she couldn’t watch and not participate, and with no idea what came overher, she pushed through the door to the playground, kicking off her shoes in the process.
　　She crawled in behind Jonathan, who squealed when he saw her; she felt like a mother again, even if he wasn’t hers.
　　How she missed the twins’ innocence, missed so much stuff. She hadn’t played with a kid in such a long time.
　　Out there, she felt free, not worried about the stupid contract she’d have to sign onceshe went back inside.
　　But then Mona came out with a mysterious smile on her face and spoiled all her fun.
　　“They’re ready for your signature.”
　　“Do I even want to know the crazy amount they’re offering?”
　　“Later. But it’s definitely worth getting a babysitter for Jonathan and going to a club.”
　　“I thought you were pregnant?”
　　The smile on Mona’s face disappeared as quickly as it had come.
　　“Oh, no,” Becky groaned.
　　“I lost the baby.”
　　“I’m so sorry, Mona. I didn’t know.” Becky wrapped her arms around her assistant.
　　“It’s not the right time, anyway. Believe me, Jonathan is more than enough at this stage. The good Lord upstairs knows exactly who can handle what.”
　　Becky chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just the way you said it.” She winked at Mona.
　　“I’ve made peace with it. So, I need to go clubbing. Please.”
　　“Then that’s what we will do. Let’s go clubbing.”
　　Together, they walked inside, Jonathan between them.
　　Rebecca signed the contract, all the while feeling Paul’s eyes on her. A blush crept over her face.
　　Her eyes caught sight of a number of zeros, money she didn’t need. Perhaps she should consider donating most of it to charities.
　　Plastering a smile on her face, she thanked everyone. In three months, she’d be back for the final arrangements and pre-production; she was adamant about being an executiveproducer on all her adaptations.
　　One thing Becky didn’t like was the time she spent away from her children, but she also didn’t want the production to screw up her vision. She’d seen too many authors get burned when their movies flopped. A good movie usually garnered more readers.
　　In the limo, Lesley popped the cork on the champagne and flutes were passed around.
　　At one point, Mona had to cover Jonathan’s ears when Mervyn made fun of the restaurant.
　　“Oh, I forgot,” Mona said after they dropped Lesley off. “A hottie at the restaurant was sochecking you out while you played with Jonathan.”
　　“How hot?” Mervyn asked.
　　“Oh, please, not this again,” Becky muttered.
　　Both Mervyn and Mona giggled.
　　“Later tonight, when little ears are not around.” Mona tickled Jonathan and his cackles bounced off the limo’s interior.
　　Mervyn finally smiled at Jonathan.
　　“See?” Becky said. “Now that wasn’t hard, was it?”
　　He raised his eyebrows in a mock gesture, then looked out the window as New York whirled by. A faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
　　Becky, who happened to be watching him, had no idea if he was smiling about the copious amounts of money he had just made—his cut was fifteen percent of all her earnings—or if he secretively had a soft spot for Jonathan.
　　She hoped it was the latter.
　　The club was amazing, though Becky hated that they were shown to the VIP section upon their arrival.
　　Few readers were clubbers; her fan base mostly consisted of people in their late twenties to early forties. However, that in no way meant that people wouldn’t recognize her from her various television appearances.
　　The majority of the revelers didn’t seem to recognize her though, and because of this, hit on her and mentioned that she reminded them of someone famous.
　　She simply smiled, drinking in the fact that no cameras flashed in her face, and no one demanded to know what project she was working on. Thank goodness that most of the peoplein the club were too drunk to know better.
　　Mona couldn’t stop talking about the guy who had apparently checked Becky out at the restaurant.
　　“I’d have loved to see what he was hiding beneath his clothes.”
　　“You are so full of it.”
　　“Bite me,” taunted Mervyn.
　　“No, Becks, seriously. This one—I’m telling you—is insanely hot. That real-man kind of hot.” Mona’s eyes were huge.
　　Becky laughed.
　　“And the way he looked at you! I should’ve handed him a cool rag or something.”
　　“I still can’t form a mental picture in my head,” Mervyn whined, obviously trying to conjure the man’s image.
　　“I’m not Rebecca by any stretch of the imagination, but let me try. I don’t even think she’s ever described a character who looks like this gorgeous man. He’s a Jullian-slash-Frederick-slash…”
　　“Ooh, I like where you are going with this, girl,” Mervyn interrupted, downing the last of his cocktail.
　　“…and a younger version of Aquaman,” Mona finished.
　　“Jason Momoa!” Becky yelled, laughing.
　　“Oh, that manliness.” Mona’s face filled with lust.
　　“I want to see this hobo restaurant man.”
　　“I hate that you call it that. I go there often with Jonathan, and believe me, that place is perfect. The food was great. You can’t deny it.”
　　“I’ll be going back, but not for the food. I want to see this slashguy.”
　　Becky shook her head at their quarreling, but she was deliriously happy for the first time in a while.
　　And she couldn’t deny it; she was curious about this guy. Jullian and Frederick were characters she loved describing, and they were so yummy in her mind. Mixing that image with Jason Momoa…well, she was definitely intrigued.
　　More than was probably healthy.
　　They ended up back at the hobo restaurant, as Mervyn called it. Becky was surprised it was still open at this time of night.
　　Eyes followed her as she walked, and the stares continued as they chose a table and sat down. Although she was wearing the exact same clothes, she now felt overdressed.
　　“Stop fiddling with your clothes.” Mervyn batted her hand away.
　　“Everyone’s staring at me,” Becky hissed. “I’m dressed too fancy to be in here. Just find the guy so we can get out of here.”
　　“I don’t see him.” From the moment they’d arrived, Mona had been searching for him, her eyes constantly roaming the restaurant. Finding people in a crowded place was one ofher many talents.
　　“They’re staring because of who you are,” Mervyn murmured.
　　“Nobody in this town even knows me.”
　　“It’s New York, honey. Besides, everyone knows you.”
　　She bared her teeth in a playful snarl.
　　She wanted to get out of here.
　　A dark-haired woman strolled past their table, darting glances her way. Becky frowned. She was certain the woman had walked by a few times now. It would have been understandable if she were the server, but she wore no uniform.
　　When the woman passed by again, a knowing grin plastered on her face, Becky grabbed Mervyn’s arm. As soon as Mervyn turned to look at her, she cocked her head in the woman’s direction and bit her lip.
　　He rolled his eyes. “Okay, hobo-slash-manly-man isn’t here. I think people are starting to recognize her. It’s time to go, before our darling here starts freaking.”
　　Mona straightened. “I’ll take care of the check. You get her out of here before it’s too late,”
　　The woman stopped at their table, proffering a pen and paper. “Sorry to bother you, butyou aren’t Rebecca Finlay by any chance, are you? My mother thinks you would never comehere, but…” she babbled nervously.
　　“Just please don’t make a fuss.” Mervyn grabbed the paper and pen and slid the items across the faux wood table to where Becky’s hands were clutched nervously together.
　　“Mervyn!” Becky scolded. “Sorry,” she apologized. “It’s way past his bedtime.”
　　“Oh, my gosh!” The girl all but passed out. “You areher.”
　　“Don’t make a fuss!” Mervyn snapped.
　　The girl jumped.
　　Becky laughed. “Yes, I am. What’s your name?”
　　“April. I’m a huge fan.”
　　“Thank you, and do excuse him. It seems he hasn’t had his happy pills today,” Becky joked, nodding her head in Mervyn’s direction.
　　“That’s okay. We’re used to all sorts here.”
　　Becky liked her sense of humor. “You work here?”
　　“This is my family’s restaurant.”
　　“Wow! It’s a great place. I was here earlier.”
　　The woman’s mouth dropped open. “You what? When?”
　　“She’s great at blending in,” Mervyn shared, wiggling his eyebrows.
　　Becky kicked him under the table. “It was for a meeting. But thank you for everything, and again, I apologize for my friend’s rudeness.”
　　“Oh, it’s no problem. I guess I’ll see you at the signing.”
　　“Don’t remind me.”
　　“You don’t like those?”
　　Becky shook her head. “Our little secret, okay?”
　　“Heck, yeah,” April whispered, making sure no one heard, and then smiling she took thepiece of paper from Becky, ogling the autograph and accompanying inscription. Becky hadjust written her standard one. “You can slip out. I won’t make a fuss.”
　　“Thank you.” Becky slid out of the booth, Mervyn right behind her. She quickly walked out of the restaurant, her heels clacking on the tiles. It would just be her luck if she fell on her ass, panties flashing, and boobs popping out. She could imagine how out of context the headlines would be.
　　Please don’t fall, she chanted over and over in her head until she was safely in the limo.
　　“I’m shattered we missed seeing your sexy hobo man,” Mervyn commented, rolling his eyes.
　　Becky wanted to slap him. His sarcasm knew no bounds. “Oh, shut up,” she scolded.
　　Once Mona joined them in the car, they all had a good laugh at how silly they’d been to return to the restaurant to look for some guy who’d been caught by Mona drooling over Becky.