“Shall we?” Emily asks.
“Please,” I reply.
“Our offices are on the top two floors. I’d hoped we’d be a big enough firm to acquire the entire building, but we’ve had a tough few years. Publishing is a temperamental business and you’ll either learn to weather the storms or you’ll drown.”
I nod, walking beside her as something tells me it won’t be long until business picks up. Enzo will see to it if I ask for it, although he may have already made a few things happen to get me this job.
We take the elevator to the penultimate floor and Emily guides me past reception, showing me where clients wait. She’s giving me the guided tour and I’m shown around offices large and small, closed and open plan. I’m introduced to more people than I can remember and when it starts to feel overwhelming shesmiles, taking me to a small room that looks stark compared to the other spaces I’ve seen.
“This is your office, Adriana. Graduates come in at entry level and they share the open plan spaces, but you’re different. You’ve got quite the eye and your tutors at Cambridge can’t stop singing your praises—so you won’t be interning or assisting other agents. You’ll be an agent and I’ll mentor you myself, but you will need to build your own list.”
It's a very generous offer. Far too generous for it to have been made on the back of a recommendation from my university tutors.
I mumble my thanks and stare at my office, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do with it.
“You can decorate it how you want, but I suggest you try to make it fit with your personality and tastes as an agent. You’ll see clients and publishers here, so keep it professional. Your access codes are in the top drawer along with your keys, and if you want a different computer, let me know.”
She leaves, closing the door and leaving me trapped in the room I've always dreamed of having. An office is a privilege and it's one I haven't earned. I bought it and now I'm here; I don't know what to do.
I run my fingers down the fancy bookcase lining one wall, unsure what books to fill it with. Presumably, ones that radiate good taste and impress future clients and publishers who'll buy their manuscripts. I wouldn't know where to begin with filling them, or the blank spaces on the other walls which stare back at me.
I decide to sit at my desk and set up my computer, logging into the IT system and getting my emails running. There are several emails already in my inbox and I work my way throughthem, sending courteous replies and completing some of the tedious but mandatory training.
If this is the job of my dreams, then I dread to think how bad any other one would be. I'm losing the will to stay awake as I watch another training video, almost falling asleep when we reach the section about not sharing your password.
A knock on the door startles me back awake and another tall, thin woman walks in. She stares down her nose at me and her sharp features are as unwelcoming as her demeanor.
“Who did you sleep with to get this?” she asks, failing to introduce herself.
I blush and squirm, spluttering and too damn shocked to reply.
“God, I was joking. I'm Lucinda and I'm your associate. I'm supposed to help you with any admin tasks. Apparently, that includes running interference when anyone makes a joke.”
I nod, and she marches over, slumping into the chair at my desk. She leans back, making herself comfortable, and I'm aware of the dynamic at work here.
Lucinda's determined to make me feel small and out of my depth. She's lording her experience over me and doing everything she can to make me feel uncomfortable, without being rude.
“Did you set your querying account up yet?” she asks in a scathing tone.
“I've been settling in and sorting through my emails.”
“I can do that for you. I'll also set up your query account. I'm surprised it wasn't the first thing you did, given you're a new agent and you don't have a list. Your signings are what keep you in this office. Perform badly and you'll be out in the pits with us.”
She's right but I'll be damned if I let someone like her have access to my emails. Or set up and control which books I screen for potential new authors.
A week ago, I made a deal with Enzo because I was naive and didn't realize the consequences of my decisions. It's been quite the education and I won't make the same mistake twice. I wouldn't trust Lucinda if my life depended on it and there's not a chance in hell she's getting what she wants.
“I prefer to manage my own emails. And I'll set my profile up for new authors when I'm ready. Not before.”
She stiffens and pulls herself upright, flicking her long black hair as she walks out the door.
“Don't take too long, Adriana. The firm's in trouble and they're going to be making cuts soon. I'd hate to see you go before you've even started.”
She slams the door before I have a chance to respond, and truthfully, I don't have a witty comeback.
I plow through the induction, working through lunch to get on top of everything. A few other people make their way to my office and introduce themselves, staring at the blank walls with looks of disdain.
The impression I'm making isn't good and this is not the first day I wanted. I make myself a tea and sit, staring out the window, contemplating what to do next. I'm out of my depth and about to burst into tears—and I refuse to call the only person who might help. I won’t let Enzo know just how pathetic I am; instead, I wallow in self-pity, ignoring my phone as it pings at me.
