“
The words looped in my head. Download it for free. Cheerful, triumphant. Download it for free! What a freaking bargain.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “She found what?”
"That website. Meems, what was the name again? Bongo or something?”
Mimi looked up from her iPad. “What are you talking about?”
“That website where you found Sarah’s book.”
"Oh,” she said. “Bingo. Haven’t you heard of it? It’s like an online library. You can download almost anything for free. It’s amazing.”
My hands were shaking. I set down Jen’s phone, and then I set down the wineglass next to it. Without a coaster.
"You mean a pirate site,” I said.
“Oh God, no! I would never. It’s an online library.”
"That’s what they call it. But they’re just stealing. They’re fencing stolen goods. Easy to do with electronic copies.”
"No. That’s not true.” Mimi’s voice rose a little. Sharpened a little. “Libraries lend out e-books.”
“Real libraries do. They buy them from the publisher. Sites like Bingo just upload unauthorized copies to sell advertising or put cookies on your phone or whatever else. They’re pirates.”
There was a small, shrill silence. I lifted my wineglass and took a long drink, even though my fingers were trembling so badly, I knew everyone could see the vibration.
"Well,” said Mimi. “It’s not like it matters. I mean, the book’s been out for years and everything, it’s like public domain.”
I put down the wineglass and picked up my tote bag. “So I don’t have time to lecture you about copyright law or anything. Basically, if publishers don’t get paid, authors don’t get paid. That’s kind of how it works.”
"Oh, come on,” said Mimi. “You got paid for this book.”
"Not as much as you think. Definitely not as much as your husband gets paid to short derivatives or whatever he does that buys all this stuff.” I waved my hand at the walls. “And you know, fine, maybe it’s not the big sellers who suffer. It’s the midlist authors, the great names you never hear of, where every sale counts … What am I saying? You don’t care. None of you actually cares. Sitting here in your palaces in the sky. You never had to earn a penny of your own. Why the hell should you care about royalties?” I climbed out of my silver chair and hoisted my tote bag over my shoulder. “It’s about a dollar a book, by the way. Paid out every six months. So I walked all the way over here, gave up an evening of my life, and even if every single one of you had actually bought a legitimate copy, I would have earned about a dozen bucks for my trouble. Twelve dollars and a glass of cheap wine. I’ll see myself out.
”
”