I Don't Believe in Fate
Lucas Scott is not the same man he once was. Once a recluse he was brought out of his shell to write a new book. Now five years later he is writing another book. A single father he prefers not to leave North Carolina. He meets and new challenge when his usual editor is away on Maternity Leave, and a new young and up and coming editor Kari-Ann takes over his new book. Told from Kari-Ann's POV
"I don't believe in fate or destiny. I believe in various degrees of hatred, paranoia, and abandonment. However much of that gets heaped upon you doesn't matter - it's only a matter of how much you can take and what it does to you."
-Henry Rollins
Disclaimer
I own nothing
Chapter 1 Rockaway Beach
Come to New York City they said, be at the center of it all. Have a finger on the pulse of the world. To this day, I can't figure out how in a city of Eight Million people someone can be so alone. Here I am, standing in my broom closet of an apartment looking out the window at Brooklyn. I chose to live here, in this broom closet, and not to live large, live to my means the best I could.
Five years ago, I got off the airplane at JFK Airport, tanned, confident, new degree in my hand, and broken in spirit. You need not worry about the last; I'm so over that. As I climbed into the Taxi, I pulled a Madonna and said take me to the center of it all. He brought me to Time Square, and as I stood on the corner of 43rd and Broadway, I looked over the lights and felt small. I was an ant in the sea of people and stories, and that was what I wanted to be.
I had some money and soon found a job. Finding this apartment followed, after the job. It was an entry-level position, but I was happy to have it. Working was a tough adjustment, but as soon as I got my healthcare straighten out I found a doctor, and we talked about my health, and what I could and couldn't do. So, not having any family, I worked long hours. At first, it was to make up for the mistakes that I made while I was learning how to work, never really working before. Soon, with a lot of hard work, I got the hang of it and started to put the hours in because I liked it. Those hours were long and hard, but they paid off. I was advanced quickly and got the reputation of being able to edit a book rather quickly and with good robust notes, and soon had several minor successes under my belt. Now, I'm an up and coming young editor.
I look around my apartment. Yes, my apartment is small, in fact, my apartment is the essence of tiny house living. Everything shared space with something else. Other than some furniture, I've acquired very few items; I have no TV, internet, or home phone. My computer is my work laptop, and it only comes out for me to edit a book, and write notes. I have more area appropriated clothing, but that is pretty much it. There is this one shelf that vanity makes me keep, it's the essential books in my life, and most are signed. Among them, I included the first book I edited and the first edition of each book I edited that was a best seller. There were two other books, one is unopened, and the other has seen better days. They are unimportant, but I have them.
It's a Thursday, and I'm in-between books right now. I'll probably get one tomorrow or Monday; I'll check the slush pile in the morning at the office, there might be something of interest there. That's how someone found Nicholas Sparks and The Notebook. I don't know, just don't want to be bored this weekend, as I have nothing going on. Those days of idleness have long since passed me, I have money in the bank, and don't want to spend it, I could get a lovely one-bedroom apartment, but I like my studio. Its small, clean and keeps me focused and hungry. No more do I crave the quiet beach days, or the smell of salt water as the waves crash on the beach, the morning surf and the thrill of an excellent but risky cut.
Now, now, that is the past and not your life anymore. No more Twenty-seven miles of beach, and sun. To survive war you must become a war, someone said, and well here in New York City, to survive you most become New York. These Northeasterners have away about of them. They call themselves lazy, yet they do more work than anyone I knew before coming here, and well it because go with the flow or be crushed by the tide. They work hard, but many of them party very hard too.
I walk over to the bookcase and looks at the books. There was this one book that showed the worn-out spine. I read it many times, and one would say it was an essential book in my life. In a sense, it changed my life. I run my finger along the spine and smiled. I've not read the book in years, but I could reference any line in that book anytime.
There was a buzz at my intercom. I walked over and clicked it on.
"Hello," I said in the speaker.
"Kari, its..." was what the voice that came from the intercom speaker. It was garbled, but I knew who it was. She was one of the few people I socialized with here in New York. Recluse, yeah that is a good word for me. I'm incredibly private and keep a very low profile, and in all honesty, I want to keep it that way. People hurt people, people are selfish, and well people stab you in the back. It's a fact, and well I've had too much of that in my life.
I walk over to the intercom and click the button, "Is that you Muir?" I asked.
"Yeah, Kari who else would it be? Do you have a booty call coming over then I can come back?" she responded.
"No," I said and buzzed her into the building. It took a few minutes for her to get up the stairs. My building doesn't have a working elevator, kind of like on Big Bang Theory. Yes, I know the show, I've never actually watched it, but people at work talk about it, and they mentioned the non-working elevator. I have great legs from walking up and down the stairs, plus I also jog a lot. Honestly, I'm a bit of a gym rat, gives me something to do when I'm in-between editing books.
There was a knock on the door. I know I didn't order any food, so it is either the latest serial killer in the area or Muir. Finally, I opened the door, of course, I checked to see who it was, and I let in Muirgen Harper in. How to describe Muirgen or Muir, well she's this Long Island Princess. Her Daddy had money and she never really had to work, and only took the job at the publisher so she could live in the city and look for a husband. She's entirely my opposite, and yet we're good friends.
"Kari-Ann, why did you take so long letting me in," Muir said.
I shrugged, "I had to get across my apartment," I said.
Muir looked around my tiny apartment, "Yeah, it was a trek," she said.
"We all have our mountains to climb," I said.
"So, Kari, I hear that your in-between books, is this true?" Muir asked.
I nodded, "Yeah, I just delivered my last one for publication today," I said and walked to my one batter window and looked out on the streets.
"So, you're going to get something one of the assistances thinks has merit off the slush pile?" Muir asked.
I nodded, "That's the plan," I said, and traced my finger along the window.
"Do you know it's Memorial Day Weekend?" Muir asked.
I shrugged, "I haven't noticed," I said, and this is true, I would have probably gone to the office and found it closed and then just went home.
"So why don't you head out East with me?" Muri asked and looked around the apartment, "How can you live here? It's tiny, and I know you make enough for someplace bigger."
"What do I do, Muir?" I asked, "I work, work-out, sleep, and eat, I don't need anything bigger than this."
Muri shook her head, "We need to get you laid," she said.
I sighed, not this again, "We? Is there a mouse in your pocket?" I asked.
"Kari-Ann, you're all work and no play, that's positively boring. When was the last time you got some hot sweaty sex going down?" Muir asked.
"Who is the president?" I asked.
Muri sighed, "It's worse than I thought," she said.
I love Muir to death, in some ways she reminds me of some old friend from my past. A little vapid but well-meaning and honestly very fun to be around. I'm not a cloistered monk, I do go out, mostly at Muir's prompting, and we usually have fun, and I wake up hung over. There was this one time on the subway coming back from Manhattan she kissed me. I was drunk, and she was experimenting, it was nice, but no, not Muir, I respect her too much for that.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I bet there are cobwebs down there," Muir said.
"Isn't that a little personal?" I asked, laughing, Muir was just so up front, I always seemed to have a soft spot for people like that.
"It's decided, I'm kidnapping you, we're going out East this weekend and have fun," she stated.
I looked at her like, what are you talking about and shook my head, "Um, no I have to work tomorrow," I said, and I never take time off unless it's a Doctor's Appointment.
"Nope, you can't talk your way out of this Kari, I am kidnapping you and taking you out East, now start packing a bag," she said. "No better yet, we're getting you new clothes, and fuck it a makeover, we're going to make you hot on that whole another level, maybe lighten your hair, you'd be killer as a blonde."
"No, my hair stays dark," I said, "Better to be the dark woman, then the light woman."
Muir laughed, "You do have a point there," she said and wandered around my one room. She was looking for my bag. Finally, she came to my vanity shelf and looked it over. "So, these are all your best sellers?"
I nodded, and looked at her, "They are the books that are important to me," I said, "Two of them I didn't edit."
Muir fingered the one with the broken spine. She finally pulled them off the shelf and looked at the cover, "An Unkindness of Ravens, by Lucas Scott," Muir read, "I remember reading this, interesting book."
I nodded, "I think everyone our age read that book," I said.
Muir put the book back carefully and looked at the one next to it, "A Twist of Fate; A Girls Journey by Kas Scott," she said, "Well that's the mystery, she was a great writer, she pulled a JD Salinger."
I shrugged, "It's a good book, she had a fucked life," I said.
Muir laughed, "Get what you need, and I don't mean clothes," she said.
"Do I have too?" I asked.
"Kari-Ann, you need to have some fun," Muir said.
"Ugh, we do have fun," I said.
Muir snorted and looked at me, "Just pack up your stuff, and I have a car downstairs," she said, and she gave me a look. The look was her look which meant I would do this.
"What stuff do I need, Muir?" I asked, "You said you were buying me all new stuff."
"Stop being a wiseass, Kari-Ann," Muir said, "Get your pills, and stuff, and let's get out of the city."
"What about work tomorrow?" I asked, Muir.
She laughed, "Stick out your tongue," she said. So of course, I did wondering where she was going with this. Muir walked over to me and put her hand on my forehead and nodded, "Yes, I think you're coming down with a cold, and you will be too sick for work tomorrow."
I sighed, "Okay, Muir, I'll do it, if it will shut you up," I said.
Muir smiled pogoed a bit and clapped her hand, "Yeah, now get your shit and let's roll," she said.
Under her directions, I got only my meds and a few odds and ends. Soon we were heading east on the Long Island Expressway. Somewhere along the way, we stopped, and Muir used her black card to get me everything she thought I needed, and even arrange for a place to be open late for me to get waxed, and they also did my nails. I guess having money and connections work out for those who have them.
It was dark by the time we reached where we were staying the weekend. You can say a lot of things about Muir, but this time she was right, I needed a bit of R&R. After calling out sick the next day, we spent time getting rid of my horrible pale skin.
Indeed it felt like old times when I was in college when everything was light and fun. There were even some cute young guys we flirted with out there in Montauk. Even with being twenty-seven years old, I still look young and certainly rock the brown hair. Sadly, I will admit on Saturday Night I let the physical urges get the best of me, and I got laid. He was good in bed, and fun, knew a thing or two, but well I've had better, but it scratched that itch I didn't think I had.
The weekend was a blur of fun and drinking. It was Monday morning at the time I woke up, and we were heading back to the City. I leaned back in my passenger seat and kept my eyes closed. It was time just to let the weekend get processed and think about the week, a short one, but still, the work week coming up.
Muir finally turned to me, "Who are you and what did you do with Kari-Ann?" she asked.
"What do you mean, Muir?" I asked.
"Girl, you have some legs, I didn't know you had it in you. Shit, I had a tough time keeping up with you," Muir said.
I shrugged, "I was just blowing off some steam," I said.
"Some steam?" Muir asked, "Tell me, Kari, what are you hiding, you've been well not too forthcoming about your life before New York."
"Nothing to say, I went to school at UCLA and well had my heart fucked with, and I came out here for a new start," I said, which was the truth.
"Well, you can certainly use those baby blues of yours, you had every guy eating out of your hands when you just gave them that come hither look you have," Muir said.
"They were easy," I said, "I guess, they wanted thier Montauk Story. I have mine, so oh well."
Muir shook her head, "I think there is more," she said.
I shook my head, "No more," I said.
She dropped me off, and I thanked her for everything this weekend. Muir is one of those people you rarely run across in life. For all her shallowness she was well-meaning, and she wanted me to enjoy myself. Without a friend like Muir, I'd probably not have survived here in Brooklyn as long as I have.
Now I have all these new clothes and very little space to put them. I sighed and looked around the small apartment. This weekend took a lot out of me, and I threw the dirty clothes in my laundry bag and changed into some sweats. After making a quick meal, I turned on my stereo, I settled into my comfy chair and ate, and spent the rest of the night reading a book.
The next morning, I was back on routine, as if I didn't miss a beat. I was up and out the door I went for my morning jog. Breakfast, meds, and a quick shower were what followed next. I dressed for work, and put my sneakers on. I don't wear tall heels as I'm almost five feet eleven inches tall, both of my parents were tall, and I got the height from them. Yes, it's the first time I mentioned them, and probably be my last, they are both ass holes, and well they aren't in my life anymore.
With my bag, including my work laptop and my dress shoes, I head to the subway, with a stop off at the local deli for my morning coffee. I'm fully awake and don't need coffee, but well old habits die hard, and it's going to be a long day today. I feel I need to make up for playing hooky on Friday, and with one less day of the week well, just me Ms. Workaholic.
I get up early, so the subway isn't crazy crowded when I head into Manhattan. I've lived in The city for five years, and I can get around the city in my sleep. Its auto-pilot and there are times I completely black out when I ride into work.
Finally, I get to the office and head to my little part of the world and unpack. I get my computer up and running and check over the four days of back emails. Nothing crazy and I answer what I need to, those emails that required me to respond. Finally, I put on my dress shoes and start headed around the office for the coffee machine. I'm a caffeine addict if you haven't figured it out.
In the kitchenette was two of my co-workers, they were younger and nice guys. But they are younger guys and could be a bit crude and sexist. I have thick skin, and I let it pass as they looked at me with nothing but respect. One was named Corbin, and he has a sharp mind, and someone I will bounce ideas off. The other one, Sawney, was well just here. They were looking at one of their smartphones. I do not need for one, and kind of like my semi-off the grid existence, and just have my pre-paid dumb phone.
"Hey Kari," Sawney said when he noticed me.
"Sawney," I said.
"Feeling better?" he asked. Sawney was a nice guy, just not that swift.
"Yes, I am," I said, "Ate some bad Souvlaki."
"I didn't know you ate Greek Food," Sawney said.
I shrugged, "Got to live life," I said, "You know what Henry Rollins said."
"What did Henry Rollins say?" Sawney asked.
"No Such thing as spare time, no such thing as free time, no such thing as downtime. All you got is lifetime. Go," I said.
Sawney laughed. I noticed Corbin had his nose stuck in the phone. I looked at him.
"Oh, sorry," Corbin said, "How was your weekend, Kari?" he asked.
I shrugged, "It was okay," I said and noticed in the shiny metal, I got a bit of a tan, and I was going to have to do my roots soon, "What are you looking at?"
"You know, guy stuff," Corbin said.
I laughed, they are cute trying not to offend me. I'm not easily offended, and in all honesty, I appreciate the female form like most guys. "Guy stuff, you know, I like guy stuff," I said, teasing him.
"It's one of those hot college cheerleader things," Corbin said.
I made a humming sound and shook my head, "Cheerleaders, too cliché," I said and went to get my coffee. Sawney went back to look at the phone. I had better things to do, then look at pictures of young women and have dreams about them. That's what it seems to me what most guys do with that stuff.
"Damn," Sawney said, which made me turn around.
"No way," Corbin said.
I shook my head and went about making my coffee. I'm so used to it, and I ignored them pretty much.
"Kari," Sawney said, and I turned to look at him.
"You're right," Corbin said.
"Right about what?" I asked, now curious and a bit miffed that they were calling me for nothing. I don't have time for pranks.
"Sorry Kari, this cheerleader looks just like you," Sawney said.
I shook my head in disbelief; no one looks like me. Walking over Corbin handed the phone over to me, and I looked at it. Well, it took my breath away, there was this young beautiful redheaded cheerleader, in her UNC Tar Heels blue uniform, and Tar Heel Blue bow in her hair. As this was a legitimate site, I looked at the name, Raegan Scott. Hmmm, interesting, for about a few seconds.
"Passing resemblance," I said, "I wish I looked that good and was that young."
"C'mon, except for the red hair she could be your sister," Corbin said.
I shrugged, "If you believe so," I said and walked away. Poker face, Kari, that was a shocker, boy does she look like you. Hard to believe that, well don't worry about it. It's nothing, and shouldn't shake you, Kari-Ann, you belong to this world, and well nothing, don't let them see you shaken.
I get back to my place in the office and find Muir standing there. She shook my head.
"Hey, Crazy Girl," Muir said.
I sighed, "Muir, please don't call me that in the office," I said.
"C'mon, Kari, I couldn't believe this, and well I never knew you could surf, you showed those guys up," Muir said.
"Muirgen Harper, I don't know what you are talking about, that was the first time I was on a surfboard," I said, "And I told you I was blowing off some steam."
"Right, anyways, here is a copy of all the pictures," Muir said and handed me an SD Card.
"Thanks, you took pictures?" I asked.
"I posted them on Facebook too," Muir said.
Damn, I don't want my face out there. Then again, I have like a minimum Web Presences so what does it matter. "Thanks," I said sarcastically.
"Well I can't tag you in them, because of you well, are such a cavewoman and don't even have a Facebook page," Muir said, "Even my Grandma has a Facebook Page."
I shrugged, "Well maybe you can tag your grandma in those pictures," I said.
"Very funny," Muir said.
"Hey Muir," Corbin said and walked over to my space.
"Corbin," Muir said and rolled her eyes.
"Want to see Kari as a redhead?" Corbin asked.
"What? Did you dig up some details about Ms. Kari-Ann here? Maybe a long forgotten abandoned Facebook page?" Muir asked.
"Corbin, is this that stupid hot cheerleader article?" I asked.
"Hot cheerleaders?" Muir said, "Show me, Corbin."
Corbin handed his phone over to Muir, and she looked at it. She started to laugh, "That's Lucas Scott's daughter Raegan, she came up with him last time he was here. I had to entertain her while he was with Lindsey talking about that last book," Muir said, and looked at me, "She does kind of look like you Kari, and damn if I'm not mistaken the last time he was here was the last time you were out sick."
I shrugged, "I don't know, and I couldn't see anything that you two are claiming to see," I said.
"Bull," Muir said, "She looks like you if you had red hair."
I laughed and shook my head, "Nope, don't see it," I said, just as my phone rang. I looked it over and saw it was an internal number. Saved by the bell, "Kari-Ann Sawyer," I said as I picked up the phone.
"Kari, please come to my office," the voice of our boss, Kyran Burns said.
"Sure, be there in a minute," I said and got up. I grabbed my glasses and a notepad.
"What's up?" Muir asked.
"Kyran wants to see me," I said.
"I hope it's not about you calling out sick Friday," Muir said.
I shrugged, "I don't know," I said and walked to the office. I knocked on the door jam.
"Come in Kari," he said, "Close the door."
I came in, closed the door and sat down. Kyran Burns was in his early sixties, bald and overweight, but had an energy about him that was hard to describe. He saw talent in me and over the five years of us working together he developed my career and cultivated my talent. I wouldn't be where I was without him.
"I would have had this talk with you Friday, but you were sick," Kyran said and looked at me. He knew I wasn't sick, by the look in his eyes, "But well you were going to need that weekend after this one."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well I'm going to give you a big break," he said.
"Really, wow, are you sure I'm ready for this?" I asked.
"Kari, you're more than ready for this," he said, "Also you better not screw this up."
I shook my head, "Have I ever let you down?" I asked.
"No," he said, "This is an important author, and well I want you to slam dunk this."
I smiled broadly; I'm always up for a challenge. "Bring it," I said.
"Well, this is one of Lindsay's authors but she's off on maternity leave, and the bosses want this book for the holidays, and well Lindsay won't have the time to work on it, so I'm giving you the shot," he said.
I nodded. Lindsay Strauss handled most of the high-profile authors in our division. She was the most experienced editor and had many of these relationships going back years. This book is a big-time break.
"So, Kyran, don't kill me with the suspense, what's the name of the book?" I asked.
"It's called The Empty Man," he said.
"Really? Doesn't sound exciting," I said, "We might have to suggest a change in the title."
Kyran shrugged, "You could try but he's a rather stubborn one, and well Lindsay always brought the best work out of him," he said.
"So, who is it?" I asked.
"Lucas Scott," he said and slid the folder and the manuscript over to me. A flash drive which had a digital copy of the book was also there. There was probably a treatment and a summary as well as the actual work. A lot of work, but I know I could do it. I'm just not sure I want to work with Lucas Scott. He drove Lindsay crazy, and well I'm not into this broken man shit. His earlier works were much better, An Unkindness of Ravens and The Comet were his best works. I didn't enjoy Sins of a Father.
"Do you really want to give me Lucas Scott?" I asked.
Kyran nodded, "There is no one else I would trust with his novel other than you, Kari," he said.
I nodded, "I'll do my best," I said and looked at him, "Anything else?"
"He usually likes Lindsay to head down there after the first set of notes," Kyran said.
"I'm not sure I would like to do that," I said.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Kyran said.
"Okay, it looks like I have to go over Lindsay's notes and read this…King James version," I said.
Kyran laughed, "Yeah, he can write epics," he said.
I got up and headed back to my place. I was glancing over the treatment. What I thought more angst about some missing daughter, he had found when he wrote Sins of a Father. Why can't he just marry that chick Peyton and have this happily ever after? It would sell, and we wouldn't have to be subjected to this Nicholas Sparks tragic love story shit.
Muir was waiting for me when I got back to my desk. I hate to say it, but I often wonder if Muir ever gets any work done. Taking my seat at my desk, I put down the pile.
"So, what did Kyran want?" Muir asked.
"I got one of Lindsay's books while she's on maternity leave," I said.
"Wow, cool, that's a big break, so who did you get?" Muir asked.
"Lucas Scott," I said.
"Hun, talk about a twist of fate," Muir said, "We were looking at that picture of his daughter, who looks just like you."
"Well I wanted to work with a big author," I said.
"Damn, you got one," Muir said.
I nodded, "I wanted a mission, and for my sins, they gave me one," I said.
"Where was that from?" Muir asked.
"A movie," I said.
"Okay, well I have to get to my books," Muir said and left.
I looked at the pile before me. Yeah, just what I needed, not only a whiny writer, a high-profile client, and well someone that wants me to personally discuss his notes down in some backwater called Tree Hill North Carolina. That is a total FML moment. As I pick up the printed manuscript, I look at the cover page. Well, what did Henry Rollins say "Life will not break your heart. It'll crush it."