Jack:What? Why not?
That sounded conceited in a way he hadn’t intended, as if he couldn’t believe she wouldn’t have wanted to read his precious words. He started to type a clarification.
Blair:I didn’t read it because I figured it would be out of context.
Blair:Kind of like your line about my “little projects.”
That last text came with an emoji of a person winking and sticking their tongue out.
Jack was not an emoji person. He found them lazy and juvenile. But he appreciated that he and Blair could joke about something that, a short while ago, had been a source of shame for him, so eff him if he didn’t text back a little eye-rolling person. His first-ever use of an emoji. It only took him five minutes to find it.
He also appreciated that Blair hadn’t read the leaked pages. Though in an odd twist, she was one of the few people he could stand to imagine reading them. He thought she would understand what he’d intended, even if he hadn’t hit his marks.
Blair:Do you know how it leaked?
Jack:I have no idea. I never show my works in progress to anyone. The only person I can think of who’s been in my place in the last few months is Teddy Knight.
Blair:The musician?
Jack:We were artists in residence at a summer campthis past summer where he wrote an album and I did not write a book.
Blair:I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you’re friends with a rock star. So what are you saying, Teddy Knight leaked your book? Maybe you need better friends.
The truth was, Jack didn’t really have friends. Unless you counted Blair. Which he was mildly shocked to realize he did.
Jack:No, no. It must have been some kind of hacking.
Blair:Well, it’s unfortunate, but what can you do but keep going?
Jack:I could start over.
Blair:Sometimes that’s the best thing. You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.
He rolled his eyes, but he considered the advice encased in that metaphor. If he started over, he had nothing, and the ides of March was not getting any further away.
Blair:What’s this about the publication being pushed back six months?
Jack:The extension to March 15 supposedly wasn’t going to affect the original publication date. Given that I’m still—theoretically—turning it in then, I don’t know what’s changed.
He hadn’t asked. Because he hadn’t wanted to know.
Jack:I suspect they’ve lost faith in my ability to deliver on the March 15 date—they probably read the subpar leaked pages—and are using the chaos of the leak to build in some cushioning.
Blair:So maybe this is an opportunity to take some of the pressure off, push the deadline again.
Jack.No. I’m not doing that.
She was probably about to deploy a Southernism, a Georgia version ofDon’t cut off your nose to spite your face. It would likely involve pigs and/or biscuits. He understood that he was probably coming off as unnecessarily obstinate, but his pride would not allow him to ask for another extension. His pride would not allow him toneedanother extension.
His phone rang with an incoming call, and he tensed. He kept waiting for his father to call about the leak, but it hadn’t happened yet.
This call wasn’t his father, but his mother. He let it ring to voicemail.
His back was killing him. He got up for some Advil.
After that, sometimes Blair initiated their chats.
Blair:I’m thinking of you because my latestNew Yorkerwas accidentally delivered to my problematic neighbor’s house.
