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I watch the door to the stairs swing shut slowly.
“We’d consider another sixty considering the success of his last publication,” the man drones on when Jamie unmutes us and I pull my focus back to the matter at hand with a grunt.
“You can tell your client that we do not care what his successes were with his last book,” I bark down the line. “He wasn’t signed to Wilcox Writing and we are not in the business of handing out deals of that measure before we have evidence that that figure will be matched, and then some, in profits. The deal offered is the final offer. Joshua Lucas can like it, or leave it.”
“I think,” Jamie jumps to action, glaring at me as he speaks, “what my colleague is trying to say, Gentlemen, is that when Mr Lucas decided that we were the publishing house for him, he was aware that we are an independent company still functioning within our first five years of business and we simply cannot justify paying our authors above the offer we have provided on their first book with us. Once this book is out and a profit is made, we can reconvene and discuss higher advances and rates for future work.”
I push to my feet and make for the doorway, ignoring the incredulous look plastered on Jamie’s face, before storming out of the office entirely.
Mikaela
“What the hell is with you and Ben today?” Jamie grunts at me from behind his computer screen as I pick at the salad he ordered in for me.
My cheeks flush and I put the pot down. “What are you talking about?”
Jamie glances over the frames of the glasses he hates to wear and raises his eyebrows. “I’m talking about the fact the two of you are definitely not cut out for late nights. You’re grumpy as shit, Mikaela.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and try to roll my eyes. “Yeah well, I don’t know about Haston, but I’m fine.”
“Yeah.” Jamie scoffs. “You’re absolutely fine. You haven’t been a raging bitch all morning. And I’m really Superman.”
“You know.” I stand and grab my bag from the other chair. “I think I want to go out for lunch. I need more than a salad.”
“Go then,” he sighs, “and come back with a smile, yeah? You’re kinda the first face of the company, Mik.”
“You’re kinda an ass, Jamie.”
“Only kinda?” He smirks as he types.
“Shut up.”
“Hekissedme.”Istop walking in the middle of the street, passers by swearing at me as they narrowly avoid smashing into me, and Max freezes.I’ve kept this from him all day, and now it feels like it’s choking me.
“I’m going to need you to repeat that.” His head does this weird little roll as his eyes widen with glee and my stomach churns.
“Ben. Ben kissed me.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
Max grabs my hand and drags me into the road and across the street, straight to a little bar with a simple neon light stating the most unimaginative name possible: The Bar.
“Wait!” I grunt as he yanks me through the simple red door and straight to the empty counter. “Max. I want to go home. Stop!”
“Mikaela Wilcox, I love you and I say this with complete and somewhat overbearing adoration, but you just told me that Baby fucking Blue himself kissed you and your shoulders are up to your ears. You need a shot. And honestly, so do I.”
I slump over the bar as I fall onto an open stool and watch Max flag down the bartender standing around on his phone. He’s right, I need a shot. Or six.
“Two tequilas, please.” He smiles at the guy serving us and I grunt.
“Each.” I look up and the guy grins. “Two each.”
“One of those days, huh?” Mr Barman raises an eyebrow and Max cackles.
“Oh,” I pout. “You have no idea.”
Mybagisdumpedon the bar and Max fidgets with the straps, tying them in knots as he nods silently, and I play with the peanuts I’ve been given.
