Prologue
Dear Raya,
I've been lost in this world for a long time. I'm trying to figure out my next move, what I should do with the rest of my life and it all keeps coming down to writing. It's what I do, it's what keeps me happy when everything else in my life is going to shit. Every date I end up going on fails, I've never had a real family and I hate my job. Should I go for it? Follow my dream of becoming a writer? I don't want the bullshit answers Ida used to give, I want the straight truth. Am I nuts?
Jenna
Nashville
Dear Jenna,
You are nuts, but aren't we all? My advice? Stay at that crappy job, save enough money to sustain yourself while you live out your dream and get your career off the ground and then write until your fingers fall off. We only miss the chances we never take. Take the chance.
Raya
Lorenzo
"I'm taking a break from Morgan Financial Holdings for a little while. I want to be a writer," I blurt out quickly, as I step into my father's office.
I adjust my tie and cufflinks, a nervous habit I've developed these last few years and sit in the chair opposite his desk.
"A writer…"
My father tests out the words like they're poison and then spits them back out.
"A writer. I saw Ma's column and that Jenna girl stirred something inside me. I've been writing since I could hold a pencil and working with you hasn't been crap but it's not what I want to do, it's not making me happy."
"You're not happy?"
"No, I am. I mean I love my life, I love my family, it's just...I'm kind of miserable during the day. I can't wait to get back home to write."
My father taps his watch, a habit he's had for as long as I can remember. He's silent, stretching out the awkwardness in the room and I keep my gaze on him, trying to figure out where his head is at.
"Oh, my two favorite men in one spot, how lucky am I?"
My Ma's voice automatically breaks the tension in the room as I stand and turn, bending down to kiss her cheek as she pats my chest. The tips of her hair are blue today and I know we're all in the clear from her Italian temper. Blue is good, red, not so much.
"Morning, Ma."
"Am I interrupting a meeting? I checked your schedule, baby, it said you were free."
My father stands, wrapping an arm around her waist as he pulls her to him for a way too long greeting kiss. They’re in their fifties now but you would think they’re still newlyweds. It’s nauseating yet endearing at the same time.
I clear my throat, sitting back down in my chair as my Ma pulls away, sitting on the edge of his desk.
"No meeting, just talking life. Maybe you should weigh in on this...Raya."
I can hear the undertones of possibly a little anger as my Ma's eyebrow quirks up, sensing it too.
Uh-oh.
"Yeah? Before or after you leave that attitude at the door, Mr. Soon to be Celibate in Manhattan."
I press my lips together, trying not to let my smile slip as my father and Ma angry whisper to each other.
"Ya know I'm right here, right? I can hear everything you both are saying and I'm twenty six, not a child."
My father exhales, running a hand down his face and my ma stands, turning to get behind him as she massages his shoulders.
"Lorenzo, are you really unhappy here?"
I let out a breath and nod to my father.
"I'm grateful. I appreciate everything you taught me, Dad, but it's just...I see the way you work, I see the stress. I know you love what you do but if I am going to be that stressed, I want it to come from something I love doing. I don't want to put in 50+ hours of work into something I hate."
I see the tension slowly seep out of my father, the vein in his neck gradually subsiding back to normal as my ma continues to rub his shoulders. I glance up at her and she winks. I try to hold back my smile as my father finally speaks up.
"Lorenzo, of course your mother and I just want you to be happy. If writing is what you want to do, then we'll support you, but I have one condition."
"Name it!"
"You take the time you need to save up rent until you can sustain yourself on your author money. I love you son, but your ma and I have an empty nest now and our little birds don't want to come back to it. Believe me, it's for your own benefit."
Suddenly, my father pulls my ma's wrist, causing her to fall into his lap. She laughs and the sound warms my heart. Eventually, I'll find what they have. I want what they have, I just can't seem to stumble on a woman that wants me for me and not for what's in my wallet, or underneath my slacks.
"Deal. I already have a decent amount saved but I'll stay maybe another six months to a year. Can I get this in writing? I don't want you to change your mind once you're out of Ma's spell."
My ma laughs, pointing at me.
"Remember who really holds all the power Lorenzo Morgan. Never forget it!"
My father rolls his eyes, whispering something in her ear and her smile fades, her cheeks turning pink.
"Yeah, my cue to go. I'll stop by for dinner Sunday, Ma. Love you."
I lean over the desk to kiss her cheek and she grabs mine, kissing me back.
"Love you, my boy."
I leave the office with a newfound determination, setting my sights on my goal.
Thank you Jenna from Nashville.
Seven months later...
I check her page again and damn those words and that picture.
"Tell me to drop to my knees. I want to hear your rough voice command me, Asher."
"Drop, baby. Then open that gorgeous mouth so I can fuck it."
She's been killing me for the past week with all these teasers for her debut novel and I want to message her. I want to tell her that I can't wait to read this fucking book because I've jacked off to her goddamn teasers more times than I want to admit.
The girl can write a damn sex scene, at least I think she can with all these one liners. My fingers itch over the "message" button, back and forth, back and forth until finally I just do it.
EnzoMorganWrites: Hey. Random I know but can't wait for your book to come out. Speaking of come…
No. What the fuck? Hell no. I backspace the entire thing and try again.
EnzoMorganWrites: Hey. Been catching your teasers, can't wait to see the real thing.
Fucking hell. What am I doing? I exit out of the message screen, like her last teaser and throw the fire emoji in the comments. I toss my phone to my bed so I don't get the bright idea of embarrassing the shit out of myself and walk to my kitchen.
My fridge is practically bare, realizing I have to go food shopping, I relent and decide to order pizza instead.
I sit down on my couch, rubbing a hand down my face as I collect all my thoughts and get my brain back. I mentally run down the list of things I need to do for my debut release, refusing help from my parents and their connections, and their money. I am half Morgan and half Venedetta; the word “can’t” is not in my dictionary.
I gave up my condo in the Upper West Side of Manhattan two months ago, more conscious of my money now without a Morgan Financial Holdings paycheck. I came back to my mother’s stomping grounds, getting a small apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
My apartment buzzer rings and I stand, heading to the door to grab the pizza, tossing a few bills at the delivery boy and shutting the door behind me. My west highland terrier, Cannoli, starts to jump on my leg and I brush him off, opening a pack of Caesar's steak and tossing it into his bowl and filling up the other side with some water.