Page 8

Chapter Eight

“Thanks for taking time to meet me for lunch.”

“We could have gone somewhere a little nicer.”

Juice and I are seated by the window at a tiny table in a claustrophobic pizza joint.

“You know I gotta get my fix when I come to New York.”

I fold my slice and inhale it.

“You got a little grease right here,” Juice says, taking a napkin and dabbing my chin. “There you go.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Speaking of mom…” Juice starts. “How is Piper?”

“Piper’s Piper,” I say. “As usual. She would have preferred to have you as her daughter. She said you had an incredible work ethic this morning.”

“I need time to process that,” Juice says with a laugh. “I’m sure there was a dig in there, too.”

“You could dress better,” I say.

She looks down at her navy suit and shrugs.

“I’ll give her that. So? How are your interviews going?”

I shake my head.

“Remember when we went to Vegas on spring break that one year and saw Cirque du Soleil?” I ask. “There was that one woman who spun plates at the top of ten-foot poles not just in her hands but balanced on her chin, forehead and nose.”

“Yeah?” Juice scrunches her face, not understanding.

“That’s what book publicity is like.”

She laughs.

“Every publicist I’ve talked to has to juggle so many books,” I continue. “At the bigger houses, they might be working on four books a month.”

“A month?”

I nod.

“You have to read the books, develop the press materials, pitch the media, help build an author’s brand if they have yet to establish one, set up their book tours, oversee a budget, all in a world with shrinking book coverage,” I say. “The saddest thing is it’s really all a self-perpetuating circle, like a literary Shark Week.”

Juice laughs. “Meaning?”

“Nearly every penny of a publicity budget—not to mention all the publisher’s power—goes to celebrities or famous authors whose books are already going to be bestsellers, simply because they have been paid a lot of money for their books and contracts. Those celebrities and authors are going to be the ones who get those huge media interviews, like on Good Morning America or Today , or reviews in the New York Times or People .”

“Because their names will bring ratings or sell copies,” she says. “Money begets money.”

“Exactly!” I say. “Which will then sell tons of copies of their books. It’s not fair. When do the little guys get their shot?”

“Emma, it’s just the way American business and consumerism works, you know that. How many great small businesses out there work their tails off every day just to break even, and then there are the few celebrity companies and IPOs—from Goop to tequila—that use their brand power to make millions off something that’s probably no better than the others. It’s not fair, but it’s the way it is. You either play the game or you break the cycle and become your own brand.”

“I hear you,” I say. “And publishers say the money that big authors and celebrities make allows them to publish books that might not otherwise have a chance, but it’s just so difficult to listen to these publicists talk about all these incredible new books they’re publishing that will never break out, and yet every debut author believes their book will be a bestseller. They expect you to make it a bestseller. And the saddest thing is all the incredible books these publishers have to turn down because they either have something similar on their list or because they run it through a model and see that it likely won’t make a dime for them, even if it’s an incredible book.”

I shove the rest of the slice into my mouth and continue.

“I just don’t know. I feel like it might consume my soul, just like I’m doing to this pizza.”

“Spare me the sob story, Emma.”

I nearly choke.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s life after college.” Juice shrugs. “I hate to say that your sister and parents are a little bit right, but they are. We’re done sitting in classrooms and dorms theorizing about life. We’re doing life now, and it kinda sucks and yet it’s super exciting. I mean, I don’t have a life at the moment. I work anywhere from eighty to a 120 hours a week as an investment banker, Emma. I don’t sleep. I barely eat. And yet it’s everything I ever wanted. This is why I worked so hard in college.”

“Why do I feel so lost, then?”

“Because you’re scared of your dream. It’s natural to worry about whether you’re good enough or if you’ll make it. Sometime, the dream is easier than the reality. You want my advice?”

“No.”

Juice laughs, reaches out and takes my hand. “You just talked about the importance of becoming your own brand, Emma. Become your own brand!”

She looks at my baffled expression.

“Get your damn book into the world. It’s good. Really good. I think so, and I don’t even read books. Gin thinks so, and she does read, and we wouldn’t BS you. If your book sucked, we’d tell you to go ahead and be a book publicist, or go into corporate communications, or do what your sister is doing and just make a shit ton of money and be happy with that. But that’s not you. The Emma I know and love always puts it on the line for the world to see, so put it all on the line. Get it out there. That’s why you worked so hard in college. Your dream can’t breathe unless it has oxygen.” She squeezes my hand. “Neither can you.”

“But my parents,” I say. “They’ll hate it. They’ll hate me even more. I mean, what if you told your parents you wanted to become an actress right now.”

“My Asian American parents would kill me,” she says with a laugh. “But that’s not my dream.” Lucy lets go of my hand and wipes her mouth with a napkin. “And your parents don’t hate you.”

“They will hate my book.”

“No, it just might be the thing that challenges their very calculated little world, just like you do. And just like GiGi did. And don’t you ever stop doing that or I won’t be your friend anymore.”

“My sister hates me, too,” I say. “I can’t lose you.”

“Aww,” she says.

“And I might need a place to stay after my family disowns me.”

Or loses everything.

Juice laughs. “You are my sister.”

“What if I fail?”

“You will. We all fail,” she says. “But that’s the wrong way to approach life. I always prefer to think of making your dreams come true as ‘What would you do if you could not fail?’ You have to look at life in a new way.”

“I’m beginning to realize that the way we view the world and our family is very different than when we were little,” I say.

“And isn’t that nice?” she says. “You can’t blame your parents for creating a facade that makes you feel safe and protected. And you can’t blame your parents for only wanting the best for you and challenging you to achieve that either. I’m glad mine did. I feel sorry for those kids whose parents didn’t give a damn, or let them opt out of life and just stare at their phones. Parents are supposed to care.”

“I hear you,” I say. “But what if it is all a facade?”

Juice cocks her head at me and takes a swig of Diet Coke. “Meaning?”

“Meaning…” I stop, searching for just the right words. “What’s the difference between a facade and a lie?”

“Are you writing a mystery now?” Juice asks.

“I don’t know yet,” I say. “Just saying what I’m feeling out loud. I know it doesn’t make any sense. This pantser is trying to figure out a lot of plot holes.”

“Well, if you need me for anything—ever!—know I’m here. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I stand, and we hug in the middle of the pizza parlor.

“You know, we just passed the Bechdel Test, like in college,” I say. “Two women talking about something other than men.”

“You know why?” she asks.

“Why?”

“We’re not drunk.”

She laughs and hugs me again.

“PS, you smell like garlic,” Juice says into my ear. “Get some mints at Duane Reade before your next interview, which, by the way, you’re going to nail. You can do anything you dream.”

“My mother smelled like Italian citrus, I smell like garlic,” I say. “Such is my life.”

“Good luck,” she says. “You’ll probably be home after I’m in bed, so don’t wake me up unless it’s really good news or you’ve brushed your teeth and gargled.”

She hugs me tight again and kisses my cheek

A construction guy ordering lunch yells, “That’s hot, ladies! Do it again!”

At the same time, Juice and I flip him off.