From: Muffin Evans (M.E.)
To: Kennedy Sloane
Subject: Armchair Detective
Kennedy,
Thank you for your submission to Bound Books. I’m sure you are aware that the resurgence of the true crime genre is dissipating. The ideas are stale, repetitive, and predictable. Your manuscript is well-written, but the content is too reactive. Though that is understandable given the nature of your industry.
Here at Bound we look for innovators, creators, and forward thinkers who give readers something they don’t know they need. Or even better, don’t know they are craving. You are an impressive writer, so if you conceive an original concept in the future, do let us know.
The decision not to publishArmchair Detectivewas a unanimous one by the review team, led by Colby Jackson. You can contact Colby if you wish. Please do not reply to this email as any further message will go unread.
—M.E.
For the umpteenth time today, Kenny forgot to breathe. Thoughts swirled in her head like a cyclone. There was a full-blown Category Five hurricane decimating all the senses that her brain controlled. Her vision was blurred, her hands shook. She tried to open her mouth but wasn’t sure if words or sounds came out. Her emotions were no longer on a roller coaster; they were on a free fall from the top of Kingda Ka.
The news thatArmchair Detectivewasn’t going to be published by Border Books was devastating. And M.E.’s words about Kenny’s creativity and profession were stinging. But knowing that Colby was aware, knowing that heledthe team who rejected her manuscript . . . there were no words for that.
Marilyn the therapist had a coloredWheel of Feelingsposter that hung in her office. That’s what Kenny needed. She needed that wheel in front of her so she could go around it and tell Colby every single feeling that bubbled inside her. When she mentally spun the Wheel of Feelings, it felt like someone was playing roulette in her head. The little ball bounced around rejected, resentful, inadequate, embarrassed, and furious until it halted to a stop at betrayed.
Marilyn once compared Kenny to a tightly wound clock. The therapist warned that if she didn’t learn how to process her emotions, she, being the clock, would be wound one too many times and her spiral springs would snap and shoot out in all directions.
This is the night, Kenny thought.The night my springs will burst and ping and ricochet off every surface of this Dollhouse.
Her nerves tempered as she downed a goblet of chardonnay. She decided to continue self-medicating and poured a second. Marilyn would not condone her party-for-one, but Clos du Bois was the only reliable source of sanity at this moment. The oaky beverage with hints of butter and apple kept her clock ticking rather than combusting.
Sitting in Buddha pose on her faux cowhide area rug with her back leaned against the bed, Kenny sipped her wine and stared blindly at the wall in front of her for an undetermined amount of time. She thought she should engage in a mindless activity to accompany her happy hour, so grabbed the laptop and deemed trolling social media or stress shopping to be the most viable options.
She closed out of pop-up ads as furiously as they polluted her screen when she accidentally enlarged one, instead of minimizing it. She did a double take. At first glance, the picture of the living room she saw looked like her own, in shape and size. It was as if an interior decorator broke into her studio, staged it to look like a swanky, modern apartment in Miami, posted the photos online and then quickly left, leaving Kenny with her archaic appliances, collection of hand-me-down furniture pieces and black, red, and leopard print décor.
After today, anything is possible.
She zoomed in on the ad.
PELICAN POINTE VILLA #5. SEA PINES, HILTON HEAD ISLAND. Be the first to stay in this recently renovated 1 bed/1 bath condo featuring an open floor plan and oversized Pella windows. The kitchen boasts lava stone countertops and stainless-steel appliances. The bathroom is outfitted with a His and Hers vanity and walk-in shower. Bedroom and living space open to balconies overlooking the community pool and pickleball court. Easy access to the beach and a short walk to Sea Pines Center and Harbour Town. Email Hailey at Low Country Hospitality for more information.
Kenny hovered the mouse on the carousel of images and clicked on each of the looping photos.
Photo One:The interior of a clean, sleek living space. The room gave off a personality that could be described as bright, cheery, carefree, happy. The rows of kitchen cabinets and countertops that formed an L shape were white. The bar height, rectangular table under the wall-mounted flat screen TV was white with four white leather-backed stools around the perimeter. The engineered hardwood floors were the lightest shade of oak. On the wall opposite the TV was a bright yellow block leg sofa with tufted upholstery and a matching oversized square ottoman that could serve as a footrest, coffee table or extra seating. The area rug boasted the most vibrant shades of orange, turquoise, magenta, and indigo. The pattern reminded Kenny of a painting she made with Spin Art as a kid.
Photo Two:The walk-in shower had three frosted glass sides. The fourth wall and floor were a mosaic of octagonal glass tiles in shades of seafoam green. The bamboo vanity was decorated with the same tiles as the shower and two round light-up mirrors hung on a cream wall over the sinks.
Photo Three:The queen-size bed was blanketed with a fluffy white comforter with no less than eight throw pillows of all shapes, sizes, and shades, ranging from deep purples to light lilacs. There was no headboard or baseboard, but there was a violet-colored velvet bench at the foot of the bed. The ceiling was wallpapered with a floral design that matched the purples of the throw pillows and a crystal chandelier hung from the center.
Photo Four:A panoramic view of the concrete three-lane lap pool. The two long sides of the pool were lined with lime green lounge chairs. Small round tables and free-standing lime green umbrellas placed between every other one. On the opposite side was a large, wooden gazebo that housed dining sets and grills. At the far end of the pool was a pickle ball court.
Photo Five:A picture of the Harbour Town Lighthouse proudly towering over a fleet of yachts, clusters of red wooden rocking chairs, and the eighteenth hole of the Harbour Town Links golf course.
Photo Six:A wide angle shot of the sun rising over the ocean, golden-yellow rays of light reflecting off the water with palm trees, which appeared to have been swaying when the picture was snapped, in the forefront.
Kenny took the self-guided house tour a dozen more times. If Villa #5 had a cyber neighbor, they’d be calling the cops on a tipsy brunette stalking the place. She saw herself in each room of the villa, swimming laps in the pool, and sipping her morning coffee on one of the red rocking chairs under the lighthouse. She lingered on the last photo a little longer than all the others.Thatwas the yellow,thatwas the image, of the sun rising over the ocean she so desperately wanted to see all day.
Her legs started to fall asleep, and she remembered she had to wash the day and streaky makeup off her face before the rest of her body fell asleep, too. She stood up, took a big stretch, and wobbled toward the bathroom, passing her almost empty bottle of wine and phone that was lit up like a Christmas tree. Seven texts, three missed calls, one voicemail. All from Colby.
“Leave me alone, Colby,” she shouted as she removed the cutting board from the sink and struggled to remember where she put the brown bottle of Perricone face wash after the spa session she treated herself to hours earlier.
Billy Joel had it right, Kenny thought as she lathered her face and took a good, hard look at the tired face staring back at her in the mirror.Maybe I should get away for a while.
