Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
I sigh, once again looking down the hallway, but Britney and Cordelia are gone. Then I look at Raven. “No. You ladies all get back to the main lobby and stay safe. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Audrey asks.
“I’m fine. I can handle it. I’ll see you at lunch.”
Then, with one last regretful glance down the hallway, I open the door to the conference room and allow the commotion to hit me in the face.
The adoring fans attending the Hot Lips and Husky Voices panel are a model audience. Their fresh faces are bright, their eyes gleaming and happy, and their smiles continuous. They are eager to hear from both authors and narrators alike about any and all audiobook minutiae.
Essie Smith-Scott stands at the podium, looking down at her notes, because she is both participant and moderator. Essie hosts this panel every year for several reasons: It’s never bursting at the seams (there are always a few extra chairs in the back), the participants are polite and attentive, and everyone—herself included—loves to hear their favorite narrators talking outside of the book world.
Drama, Essie thinks, is highly overrated. And this panel has proved itself to be drama-free for six years running. If everything goes as planned—and there’s no reason to assume it won’t—this will be a seven-year record.
She was apprehensive about the Reader Rants panel this year. They had one of those the first year too. It was a disaster. But the romance world has matured since then and she’s confident it’s all going to be fine.
At any rate, none of that is her problem. It’s Steve’s. He gave the final OK—and put that poor newbie author, Cynthia Lear, on it. What was he thinking?
But, if something does go wrong, he’ll handle it. That’s what Steve does. He handles everything like a frickin’ champion.
Essie loves her brother. Dearly. And he’s the most talented writer in the whole world in her eyes. She could maybe do without the sex scenes, but all in all, Essie is Steve’s number one fan.
And that’s why she’s going to out him as Tank Watson, narrator extraordinaire of all the SS books, today. Of course, tons of people already know it’s him. It doesn’t take a private detective to recognize a voice. And Steve has been at her side through every single conference. Because it’s his conference, of course. He’s here, every year, right along with her. So all her closest author friends know Steve and Tank are the same person.
Today, however, the fans are going to find this out as well. Because Essie is going to tell them. And then she’s going to let all her most favorite author friends know that he’s on the market—well, as far as narration goes—and get him booked up for the rest of the year.
He has to do something, because he certainly has no books of his own to narrate right now.
She’s been worried about him for the past year or so. After he spent all that time writing the science fiction series, while simultaneously churning out several number one New York Times bestsellers for the romance fans, he was so let down when the reader world turned against the real him.
They love SS but hate Steve Smith.
It’s so weird.
And the lie is starting to get to Steve. Essie can tell. They are twins, after all. It’s starting to eat him up from the inside out. Her gaze wanders to the front row, where their parents are sitting. Mom waves. Dad nods, smiling.
They are so proud of her.
And she’s proud of herself, as well. She has risen to the occasion here. Maybe she doesn’t write the books, but she’s a pretty awesome social media marketer. The last ad campaign she ran for Troubled Waters—which was a year ago now—took that book all the way to number five in the Nile store on release day. It then spent seven weeks at number one and the following week it became Steve’s tenth New York Times number one bestseller.
Yes, Steve writes great books. And yes, he’s got a million fans. But her ad campaigns are what keep the books floating at the top.
So she waves back at Mom and smiles at Dad, graciously acknowledging their pride.
Then she looks back down at her notes. Everything about this panel is organized—the questions have been ordered to most efficiently use each minute so that all the narrators and authors get an equal amount of time to shine.
She’s going to make the whole Tank-Steve announcement last so no one’s toes get stepped on. This thought is still running through her mind when a shadow falls over her.
She looks up, then gasps and takes a step back. “Leslie. What are you doing here?”
“It’s Raylen, Essie. What the fuck? Why is it so hard to call me by my name?”