Page 37 of The Shot You Missed
“I do. Hey, are you at a stopping point? I could really use someone to talk things out with.”
Lola doesn’t even hesitate to shut her laptop, set it to the side, and give me her full attention. This is one of the things I appreciate most about her. She reads me better than almost anyone. If I need to laugh, she doesn’t hesitate to make a fool of herself. If I need to talk, she locks in, takes whatever I’m saying seriously, and helps me work things out.
“Hit me.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I twist my neck, cracking it, and flop down beside her on the couch. “My publisher wants me to reveal my identity.”
“Well, that’s nothing new. They’ve always wanted you to do that.”
“Yeah, but I get the sense that they’re getting more insistent. And Elise agrees with them.”
That has Lola rocking back. “Really? Elise has never pushed you about this.”
“And she’s not pushing me now, but she wants me to seriously consider it. I guess they want to book me at some big conventions and stuff.”
“To sign or to speak?”
I shrug. Signing, I could probably handle. Speaking? That’s a different beast altogether. “Not sure.”
“Okay. And how do you feel about that?”
I shoot her a look that saysreally?
“Right. Sorry.” She chuckles. “But, babe, would it be so bad?”
My mind supplies a highlight reel of the worst things people have written and printed about me.
Chubby movie stars’ daughter steps out in a cropped top. Has the body positivity movement gone too far?
Robert Bloom and Vivian Marsh’s daughter is legal now. Three plastic surgeons weigh in on what they’d do to elevate her look.
Does talent skip a generation? Six examples that prove famous parents don’t always pass on their genius.I’d been the first example cited in that little gem.
Headline after headline, comment after comment, I’ve spent the better part of my adolescence and early adulthood being told all the ways I don’t stack up. And most of those comments simply centered on my weight. I may have my insecurities, but when push comes to shove, I don’t actually give a shit what anyone thinks about my body. It hurts to be the butt of so many jokes, but I can brush all that off.
But if the work I’ve poured my heart and soul into becomes the butt of jokes simply because of who my parents are and what my body looks like?
I’m not sure that will be so easy to recover from.
Lola sighs. It’s a sympathetic sound. She’s not judging me, because she’s been around for plenty of those articles. “Sweetie, at some point, you’re going to have to sayfuck ’em alland own your brilliance.” She reaches across the space between us and grabs my hands in hers. “Because you are brilliant. I wish you could see it as clearly as I do.”
“I don’t think I’m ready.”To be rejected again. To be mocked again. To put my heart out there, only to have the world decide it isn’t good enough.
“Okay. I get that, I do. But, Indie, you can’t let those assholes win forever.”
“I know.”
“There are always going to be haters. You’re the first one to say your books won’t be for everyone. That if everyone loved them, you’d be doing something wrong. Not taking enough risks or being vulnerable enough. People are like that too.” Lola squeezes my hands. “You don’t want everyone to like you. Can you imagine if all the assholes and ignorant shitheads of the world were singing your praises? You’d fuckinghatethat.”
My lips twitch at that, a smile trying to overtake the frown I’ve been wearing for the past few minutes.
“You know I’m right. So, who cares if the assholes of the world don’t like you? The right people—your people—will love the shit out of you. Just like I do. Like a certain tall, dark, and handsome goalie does.”
“Lola.” I roll my eyes. “He doesn’t love me.”
She shrugs, smirking. “Okay.”
“He doesn’t.”
