“You did what?”
He swiped his sweaty forehead. “I talked to Monte. I told her you were having a little difficulty finishing up the book since it was so different from your other work.”
“That’s why they bought it. Because it was different. They believed in the book and me.”
“Because I pushed hard for it. I’m the one who made you who you are.”
Phoebe gasped from behind me. I held up a hand to her. “I made my career. Not you.”
“If it weren’t for me you’d be at some small-time publishing house forever. It was me who pushed for bigger advances. You’d have been happy with a pittance.”
“I wanted my work read, that’s it.”
“And because of me, it was. By millions of people, and you never appreciated that. I went to the mat for you with every book and got you more.”
“Got you more,” I said flatly.
“Yes, me. I deserved it. You couldn’t sell a book if it was stuck to your forehead saying ‘free.’ You just want to write. Do you realize what it takes to make people care about an author these days? They want movies or torture porn. But I always find a way to make people care about your shit. You’d be nothing without me.”
“So you steal from me? Make that make sense.”
“I had to.” He scratched his neck and for the first time I wondered if it was something more than panic riding him. “If I didn’t sign another author Marco was going to terminate me.”
I lifted my chin. “I thought you were the one who made me who I am.”
Chris’s gaze wouldn’t meet mine. “I told you making an author was near impossible. All these self-starters now. They think they can do it all without an agent. Stupid. But Lana was perfect.” His eyes were glassy now. “Gorgeous and made for the camera. Perfect for marketing, just dim.”
“You’re a pig.” Phoebe said from behind me.
“Who the fuck are you?” Chris got brave and advanced on me.
Mouse was having none of it. He growled, dropping his head in an attack state.
“Mouse,” I said firmly. He grumbled, but stayed put.
“They’re both mine. People who actually care about me.”
“I made you,” he whispered furiously. “If you’d just do me this solid we can get back to making money together. It’s been you and me against the world for twelve years. It’s just one small mistake. You understand.”
“I really don’t. And if you were in trouble if you came to me, I would have tried to help.”
“And do what?”
“I could have floated you money to cover?—”
“There’s not enough money for that. The deal I made for Lana barely covered a quarter of my debts. And now you want to try and cancel this contract? The biggest deal of both of our careers.”
The rock in the center of my chest suddenly lifted. “You’re not here for our friendship. You’re just afraid I’ll cut you out.”
“I’ll fight you. I was the agent on this deal. The contract is iron clad, even if you turn in a different book. I still get the agent fees.”
My blood went cold. “Was this the plan all along?”
A flicker of the usual Christopher came through. The cocksure, smug smile bending his lips. And for the first time I noticed it never reached his eyes. “I told you living an analoglife would catch up with you. You made it almost too easy. The blackboards and living in your head—there was no trace of how you wrote the book. I made sure Lana has a digital footprint for every word. Hell, I even made her re-type the book so she knew every line.” He coasted his finger over the fin of his Porsche. “She thinks if she studies your books, she’ll find a clue on how to write. That the next one will be easy. She’s an idiot, but she’s a moldable one.”
I let him talk.
Each confession shore up my own court case. I couldn’t record this, but he had no idea I had a copy of the original document.
