Girl After Dark (23 page)

“Oh my God, Katy!” I shout manically at my laptop screen. “I’ve got so much to tell you! That guy, the one I told you about? Carson? Well …”

But I don’t even get to start my story, because before I can even begin Katy interrupts me, waving her hands to try and silence me.

I can tell by her frantic gesturing that she needs to tell me something even more important. 

“Woah, woah, woah! Listen!” she says. “We can talk about all that in a moment, but first there’s something that I just
have
to ask you … Something that I’ve been dying to find out all week, but I knew I couldn’t just ask you over email. It’s something I needed to say face to face, or as close as we can get to that …”

“What?!” I ask.

I’m genuinely puzzled. She seems really worked up and I hope she’s okay.

“Right, the reason I need to ask you this is kind of a long story,” she says after a deep breath, “but I’ll just cut to the chase … Are you … Are you
Girl After Dark
?!”

Hearing Katy say that name out loud totally stuns me.

I can’t believe it.

How does she know?

It makes no sense …

And even though I haven’t said a word, the shocked expression on my face must give me away, because before I can even respond, Katy says excitedly, “It is you! It had to be! I knew it!”

I know there’s no point in lying to her now. And even if I could lie to her face like this, I’m so intrigued to find out how she even knows that of course I come clean.

I lift up my hands and say, “Okay, you got me, but please, please tell me how you found out. And
please
don’t tell me my name is all over the internet again? Not for this …”

Katy laughs and shakes her head. “No, don’t worry,” she says. “It’s still anonymous. Nobody knows who you are. That’s the thing. You see, my publishers are always on the lookout for really good blogs to turn into books. It’s a really lucrative market. You know, like
Belle de Jour
…”

I nod.

“Well, my editor found this amazing blog that she wanted to publish. But there was no email address on the contact page. We’d tried commenting, asking her to get in touch, but no luck. So, last week, my editor sent me the link. She wanted me to try my hand at finding this girl, at finding Girl After Dark. And when I clicked on the link? Well, from the very first paragraph, I just
knew
it was you.”

I laugh and cover my eyes with embarrassment. I can feel myself turning bright pink. The idea of Katy reading my deepest, darkest fantasies is just so … so …

“But how?” I giggle, my face flushing with heat. “I tried to keep
everything
anonymous. There were no real details about me, about my life here. Or were there? Is there something obvious I let slip?”

“No, silly,” she smiles back. “We’ve been emailing each other every day for the past four years. How could I not recognise your writing style?! So when I combined that with what you’ve told me about your new life, I put two and two together. And the only answer I could come up with is that Girl After Dark is one Melissa Lane. But how I worked it out isn’t what’s important here. What’s important is this:
we want to offer you a book deal
. We’ll turn Girl After Dark into a real book. You know what a respected publisher we are. You can totally trust us on this. This book will sell millions, all around the world. And best of all? Since I found you, they’ll definitely let me be your editor on this! We’ll be working on it together!”

I can’t quite take it all in. This is so surreal, and it’s made even stranger by the slight Skype time delay. I’m trying to let all the information sink in, but I realise I’ve just left Katy staring at the screen, waiting for me to do something, to react.

Eventually I manage to speak, but I can’t say anything more profound than, “That’s amazing.” Then I sigh as I remember that this will never work out. “But haven’t you read the last post?” I add. “The blog’s over …”

“Of course I’ve read the last post!” Katy exclaims. “Everyone in the office has read it. We’re all totally hooked!”

“Well then you’ll know — there’s no more amazing sexual adventures to be had.”

“That doesn’t matter. In fact, it makes your story even better: it’s not just one girl’s journey of sexual discovery. It’s how one girl’s journey of sexual discovery led her to true love! Don’t you see? It’s perfect. It’s an ordinary girl, just the girl next door, meeting her prince charming! It’s what every modern girl dreams of. I wish I’d thought of it myself! So? Are you in? I’ll be with you every step of the way, and I’ll make sure you’re looked after and that your identity is kept secret … In fact, anonymity really works for us. It’s better if you’re the girl next door. That way, readers can imagine themselves in your shoes.”

I take a deep breath and try to think about Katy’s offer.

I can’t believe it.

I’ve only just decided to focus on a writing career and
already
I’m being offered a book deal? This is crazy …

But at the same time, Katy’s right: this is perfect. If I’m gonna do this, I need someone I can trust, and I know Katy will look after me.

“Yes,” I say after a long pause. “I’m in! But it
has
to be anonymous, okay?”

“Of course,” Katy replies. “Now … Tell me. This Carson? He’s Prince C, right?! I knew it!”

§

To: [email protected] and [email protected]

Dear Gentlemen,

I am hosting a dinner party this Friday night and I would be delighted if the two of you would attend. To titillate your appetites, here is the menu:

Starter

Twice-baked goat’s cheese soufflés with apple & walnut salad

Main

Roast duck breast with maple syrup vinaigrette

Desert

Chocolate, hazelnut & salted caramel tart

Carson, if you would like to come round for eight pm, that would be great? And Dad - you already live here, so you’d better be home!

See you both on Friday,

M xx

§

It all sounded so easy, back when I was planning the menu.

And I even had fun shopping for all the ingredients. The Whole Foods near here is
amazing
(even if it did cost a small fortune). It probably would have been cheaper to treat them to a meal out somewhere, but there’s nothing like home-cooked food, right?

But right now, the kitchen looks like a bomb’s hit it. I’ve got three different timers set, I’ve used every single pot and pan in the apartment, and I think it’s all only gonna look worse before it looks better.

But I still, this meal is going to be amazing. I’m determined …

After all, this is a
celebration
.

But the strange thing about this is, they don’t yet know what we’re celebrating, and I still don’t quite know how to break the news to both of them!

§

A couple of hours later, things are looking much better. The kitchen’s once more clean and tidy, I’ve done all the washing up, and finally everything is prepared and ready to go in the oven.

I’ve set the table, too, and I’m really pleased with the arrangement. Dad didn’t have much to work with, he didn’t even have any matching napkins, but I’ve managed to turn it into a theme: I bought all these crazy clashing flowers and the whole thing looks pretty cool.

But there’s one thing left that still needs fixing up: me.

I’m not wearing any makeup, my hair’s gone limp from the steam in the kitchen, and I’m covered head to toe in flour.

I need to get ready, and quick ...

§

“Melissa, that was amazing!” Dad says, scooping the very last crumbs of his chocolate and hazelnut tart up with his desert fork. 

“I agree,” Carson says with a big smile.

And I can’t help but blush. “Oh it was nothing,” I murmur, trying my hardest to stay modest. But secretly, on the inside, I’m doing my happy dance.

It’s awesome how well they’re getting on together — even better than their first meeting, if that’s even possible.

Or maybe, this time the difference is
me
. This time, I’m relaxed too. I’m not nervous, I’m not scared that my dad’s about to embarrass me with stories about my childhood, and I’m not even trying to drag Carson away for some alone time. I’m just genuinely relishing seeing the two most important men in my life enjoying each other’s company. And if they can compliment me on my cooking in the process, then I’m certainly not going to complain!

“So what was all this in aid of?” Dad says, raising an eyebrow. “You two got something you want to tell me? You’re not
engaged
are you? No wait. I’ve got it,” he laughs. “You’re making me a grandfather already!” 

“No Dad!” I hiss, feeling my cheeks burn even though I can tell he’s only joking. “I just wanted to cook you both a meal! Can’t a girl do that for her two favourite guys?”

“I suppose she can,” he laughs back.

But joke or not, I try to change the subject. The talk of engagement and babies? I don’t want to put Carson under that kind of pressure already.

And Dad’s been so
unembarrassing
up until this point. And suddenly it dawns on me that I’m the one who’s about to embarrass him. After all, I’m about to announce that I’m getting a book published about my sexual escapades.

Or am I?

Am I
really
going to tell them both, here, now?

Already I can feel myself chickening out.

It doesn’t seem like the right thing to say anymore. So, although I’m going to change the subject, it’s not going to be to that …

In keeping with Dad’s gentle ribbing, I decide to turn the tables and tease him right back.

“So Carson,” I ask as nonchalantly as I can. “I don’t suppose
you
know of any single women who might be interested in my father here? Any of Esme’s friends, perhaps?”

At this Carson laughs. “Oh no, no! I wouldn’t want to inflict Esme or any of her friends on anyone! But there
is
this woman who’s started working at my non-profit actually, and the more I think about it, the more I think you two would get along great actually!”

Dad gives us both a knowing glance, then yawns ostentatiously.

“You know what?” he says, making a big show of looking at his watch, not rising to the bait. “I’m beat. I think I’m gonna head up for an early night. I’ll leave you two love birds to it. And Carson, you know you’re welcome to stay over here any time you like?”

“Thanks, Mr Lane,” Carson says flashing Dad another one of his winning smiles.

“Please,” Dad says, pausing in the doorway for a moment. “Call me Alexi.”

I smile at Carson once we’re left alone in the kitchen. Then I stand up, take his hand, and lead him through to the living room. 

We sit on the sofa.

“Actually, now we’re alone,” I say, “I
do
have something to tell you …”

As I say this, his eyes widen and he fidgets a little on the sofa.

“Why does that make me feel nervous?” he says quietly.

“No, no, no,” I interrupt, laying a hand on his wrist. “This is good … I think.”

I take a deep breath.

“Listen,” I begin. “You know how I said I wanted to focus on my writing?”

He nods.

“Well, I’ve been given an opportunity, an
amazing
opportunity in fact, but I’ll only take it up if you don’t mind, and you have to promise to be totally honest with me …”