By the Book (Meant to Be #2)(7)

Izzy had honestly never heard Marta admit defeat before. This was fascinating.

“At this point, you might have to threaten to cancel the deal to make anything happen,” Will said. “Sometimes people like that only respond to threats. I don’t understand why he’s not just using a ghostwriter. Is it an ego thing? You’ve told him no one will know he didn’t write it, right?”

Marta let out a sigh that was almost a hiss. “Of course I’ve told him that. So many times now. I did, my assistant did, his agent did. Do you know what he says to that? Nothing! I swear, I need someone to go to his house and pound on the door and ask him what’s really going on with his book.” Her eyes widened. “Actually, I’m brilliant. Yes, that’s exactly what I need. The only way we’re going to solve this is if someone goes straight to the source.”

Izzy had no idea what made her do it. A burst of courage, a lightning bolt, a momentary lapse in judgment, the three sips of wine she’d had while she’d eavesdropped on this conversation. But suddenly, she turned around and took a step toward Marta.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “I’ll go talk to Beau Towers.”





“I don’t know what got into me, Priya! Suddenly, I was talking with no control over my mouth, and when I stopped talking, I thought Marta was going to laugh at me, but instead she told me that it was a great idea and said she could always count on me?”

Izzy and Priya were back in their room at the end of the night, eating a pizza they’d had delivered to the hotel, and drinking vodka tonics. They’d busted into the mini bar, despite the astronomical prices. It was an emergency.

Priya shook her head. “Marta said she could always count on you? Did an alien take over her body?”

Izzy reached for her drink. She couldn’t believe it either. “It seems unlikely to me, too, but I wouldn’t have made it up even in my wildest dreams, so she must have said it. She even said I was the perfect person to do this!”

Priya’s eyes opened wide. “Okay, now I’m concerned. Either an alien really did take over Marta’s body, or this is some kind of a trap. Are you going to get out of this alive? Isn’t Beau Towers a nightmare?”

Izzy grabbed another slice of pizza. “Of course he’s a nightmare! Why do you think he got a book deal for his memoir, after all? He’s basically your typical celebrity asshole—bar fights, car accidents, etc., different actress or model on his arm every other week, you know the type. The last major thing was when the press caught him on video screaming at his mom at his dad’s funeral. Real classy. They had a messy divorce, but still.”

Why, exactly, had she volunteered to do this again?

Priya reached for her phone. “Oh, that’s right. Isn’t his mom that gorgeous Black model?”

“Yeah, Nina Russell.” Izzy knew far too much about Beau Towers at this point.

Priya took a sip of her drink as she looked through the results of her Google searches. “These pictures of his parents together are so weird. They didn’t match at all. His dad was that director.”

“Jim Towers, director and screenwriter.” Izzy reached for her drink. “Anyway, the only response I’ve gotten to any of my dozens of emails was to the one I sent his agent asking for his mailing address so we could send him a basket of snacks at the holidays—that’s the only reason we even know where he is.”

Priya was still looking at her phone. “Oh my God. Isabelle Marlowe, I can’t believe you told me all this nonsense about Beau Towers before you told me how hot he is! Well, that’s if you like those big brawny guys, which I absolutely do. Who cares about a bar fight or two if he looks like that?”

Izzy laughed at Priya as she held her phone up. “You know me, Priya. I’m more into the skinny poet types.”

Priya got up and went back to the mini bar. “Yes, unfortunately I do know that, and look where THAT has gotten you.”

Priya had a point there. That skinny poet type Izzy had dated for a few months last summer spent most of his time playing video games and didn’t seem to write much poetry…or spend much time with Izzy.

Priya grabbed two more tiny bottles of vodka and handed one to Izzy. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.” She poured the liquor into her glass and added tonic. “You’ll have to tell me how Santa Barbara is; I’ll be there for my cousin’s wedding next month.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe that on Wednesday, when we all fly back to New York, you’re going to just drive up to Beau Towers’s house and knock on his door.”

Izzy laughed out loud. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? The man hasn’t answered a single one of the twenty-nine emails I’ve sent him—I counted—or any of the ones Marta sent, so why would he answer the door when I knock, if he’s even there? But honestly, I don’t even care. I get a whole extra day in California. Maybe I actually will get some time by the pool with a book.”

And another day of not being in the office. Just the thought of it made her happy.

“Exactly,” Priya said. “Plus, Marta might be just looking for some ammunition to make him finally get a ghostwriter. If he ignores—or even worse, yells at you—he’ll look like a monster. Maybe that’s just what she wants.”