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But why are you thinking this way? the voice in my head asks. You’re trying to sell books, not nail some woman.
With a grimace, I sit up. My subconscious is right. It doesn’t matter what this Elisa person looks like nor how old she is. She’s written a book that I want to sign. That’s it, full stop. So with a sigh, I get back to work. I need to get my libido under control. The written word can make me feel things, and that’s why I’ve lasted so long in this industry. But still, I need to go into that meeting thinking with my brain… and not something else.
2
Elisa
I clutch my phone to my chest. My heart pounds so hard I worry for a second that I might be having a heart attack. I’ve been sitting this way for twenty minutes, ever since the call from my agent. I was sure she was going to call back to say, Just kidding, the offer from Cameron Publishing was a prank and we’re back to square one. But nope. She was calling to tell me that not only is the deal really on the table, but the CEO wants to meet with me to discuss my book.
I flop against my couch, face in my favorite throw pillow, and let out the scream I’ve been holding in for almost an hour.
Once I get the wild emotion out of me, I dial my mom’s number. She picks up on the second ring.
“Hi, Elisa. It’s not Tuesday. What’s up?”
“Guess what?” I pant.
I can almost see Elaine’s eye roll.
“You know I hate guessing games.”
“I got an offer on my book! From Cameron Publishing!”
Mom squeals.
“Honey, that’s incredible! Bob,” she yells, calling for my father. He’s probably down in the hardware shop he owns below their apartment. “Bob, Elisa is going to be published!”
I cringe.
“Mom, please don’t yell in my ear.”
“Sorry, honey, I’m just so proud. My little girl, a published author,” she gushes.
“Nothing is set in stone yet, Mom,” I say quickly. “My agent just got the offer today. She still has to look over everything. But the CEO said he wants to meet with me tomorrow to talk about the offer.”
Elaine squeals again. “Elisa! That’s incredible. We have to celebrate. Why don’t you come over for dinner?”
I glance at the clock. It’s nearly five, the time Dad closes up shop and heads upstairs for dinner.
“Okay. I’ll be over in thirty minutes.”
She squeals a few more times before hanging up, which makes me wince. Don’t get me wrong. I love my mom, hands down. She’s a poet, so being published isn’t new for her. Elaine’s won awards for her poems, which she displays proudly in my parents’ modest apartment.
Because unfortunately, poetry doesn’t pay much. And with Dad owning his own small business and my mom writing for a living, we didn’t have a lot of money growing up. Mom’s creativity doesn’t churn a lot of dough, and Dad puts a lot of his money back into keeping the store running. It’s not cheap running a hardware store just outside of New York City, but he’s been able to stay open for decades now. I get my hard work and perseverance from him.
My apartment is only a few blocks from where I grew up. I love my parents and even when I earned my Bachelor’s in creative writing, I remained less than an hour away from them. I can’t imagine ever living away from my family. We may not have had a lot of money when I was a kid, but there definitely wasn’t a shortage of love.
After a quick shower, I check my email and see that my agent, Darla, sent me the contract from Cameron Publishing. My phone rings like she can see me.
“Hey, Elisa,” she says as soon as I pick up. “I just sent you the contract. Did you see it?”
“Yeah, it’s in my inbox.”
“Perfect. Under no circumstances are you to sign it. I don’t care what Robert Cameron tries to smooth talk you into at your meeting tomorrow. You sign nothing until I’ve okayed it. Got it?”
I laugh. “Got it, Darla. Thank you so much for this. You’re making my dream a reality.”
“Hey, you have the writing chops, kid. This is all your doing.”
“I may have written the book, but you believed in it.”
“You’re going to make me cry!” she says. “Listen, I’ve got to go. My panel is starting soon. I’m back in the city next week, though. We’ll meet and talk about the contract then. Mr. Cameron is giving us until the end of next week to accept or decline their offer.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you next week, Darla. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome, kid.”
Darla hangs up, leaving me even more excited than before. I want to curl up on the couch and read my potential contract a hundred times, but I know I wouldn’t understand much of it. My advisor suggested I take a contracts class during college since I told him I wanted to be a writer, but I was too busy overloading on creative writing credits to consider anything else.
