The Book Tour: A Novel

"He's also the only one not coming to the launch, though." Maral holds my herringbone blazer aloft, and I slip my arms into it. "At least you won't have to see him."

"True. Good vibes only tonight." The last thing I want is him cursing the event with his presence. The farther away he stays from my book, the better. "Let's go crush this thing."

*  *  *

The bookstore is packed. I'm not surprised to find it bustling at five forty-five P.M. on a Tuesday—I've stopped in to the Strand at all hours on any given day of the week myself. There is no peace like browsing books, a strong black coffee in hand. Except maybe walking through my picturesque Upper West Side neighborhood during a snowfall, coffee in hand. Or running through Central Park at the crack of dawn, framed by beautiful towering skyscrapers, the promise of coffee close on the horizon.

Maybe coffee is the real key to peace.

The Rare Book Room, where events are hosted, is a reprieve compared to the commotion of the store, the scent of aged paper and bindings rich in the air. We're about an hour out from the official start of the event, but I had to arrive early to sign some stock for the store and for Woodsworth's marketing team, who are hosting giveaways on their socials. The room is a flurry of bookstore staff facing out copies on the shelves flanking the podium, caterers setting up the makeshift bar on a table by the windows, and a handful of junior Woodsworth employees laying out swag. Near the podium I spot Shanthi typing furiously on her phone while her face remains the picture of placidity—aka her default mode. 

"Ana!" squeals Meredith as she wraps me in a hug, her red hair tickling my nose. "Happy pub day!"

Trailing behind her is Alison, the publicity assistant, who holds a phone up to capture my arrival.

"The place looks so glam—nice job, team,î I say, taking in the high- top tables laden with tea lights and tasteful floral centerpieces. String lights hang from bookshelf after bookshelf of leather-bound books in burgundies and browns and golds. A dozen rows of chairs stretch out before the podium, and beyond them is a wide standing- room space for overflow.

"A lot of this was the bookstore, but the rest was all Alison,î Meredith says, giving credit where credit is due. One of the many things I love about her.

"Alison, I'll be adding this to the chart I keep to track the number of ways in which I am forever indebted to you," I say.

Red spreads across the PA's face and down her neck. "Oh my gosh, it's honestly an honor." There"s a small tremor in her voice that belies her capability. She's done so much for my book over the past year—getting copies out to influencers, arranging blog posts and online media tours, creating shareable advertising content, and so much more—that its sales will be owed in large part to her efforts.

Meredith ushers me to the podium, where Shanthi is tapping the microphone. She's arranged a light diffuser a few feet away, which will cast a glow that's flattering for the camera, if a bit glaring for the in-person audience. But while the room has space for up to a couple hundred people, the Instagram Live she"ll be hosting of the event could be attended by thousands, if our broadcast of my keynote address at the Multicultural Women"s International Conference last month was any indication.

I do some sound tests, whispering sibilants into the mic as a bookstore employee named Greg fiddles with the volume on the speakers, and Shanthi adjusts the light until she's satisfied with a shot she gets on her phone. Her expression doesn't change as she gives me a thumbs-up, which, for Shanthi, is about as emotive as it gets. She brings an unmatched level of cool to our team that balances out my inner (and outer) Tasmanian devil.

Alison is handing me books to sign when Nadia arrives in a flurry of color, her bright yellow blouse tucked into fitted emerald-green pants, red lips a bright pop against her fair skin and short black bob. She enters in medias res, as if she started her sentence on the way up the stairs.

"—been such a day, but you are the highlight!" She kisses me on each cheek, Armenian-style, like Maral and I taught her. "I"m so excited to celebrate your shining star."

My editor, Laura—a queen among women—comes over as well, and we all squeeze together as her bespectacled wife stands nobly at her side.

The room starts to swell with attendees and media. Alison fetches me a glass of water while Meredith walks me through the run of show, as if I haven"t had it memorized since she emailed it to me last week.

It's showtime.

Greg from the Strand introduces the event: "We're honored to present Ana Movilian as she launches her debut book. So Proud of You is based on her wildly popular podcast, which in turn is based on her wildly popular viral videos."