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My eyes narrow as I study her closely, cautiously reaching for one of Vinny’s famous poppers. I’m half convinced she’s going to bite off a finger or two with the opportunity, but I’ll be honest, Vinny’s poppers are usually worth the risk. If I really had to, I could learn to type with a couple of nubs.
When she bounces up and down while watching every chew I make, I know I can’t survive an entire dinner like this. I came here to relax and wind down before my meeting on Friday, not to be lured into a manic episode that will require treatment.
“Okay, Mo, what’s going on? You’re seriously freaking me out.”
Positively bubbling, she hops up from her seat and vibrates with excitement. I brace myself for impact as she jumps toward me and plants her ass on the coffee table in front of me, leaving only six inches of space between us. “You have to tell me. I’ve been dying all week, knowing you had a meeting with the Brooke Baker! What did she say? What did she do? Did she have any top-secret news? Was she chic or relatable or—”
“Mo-Mo—” I edge in carefully.
“No, no, stop right there.” She holds up her hand in front of my face, close enough that I can make out the lines of her fingerprints. “Don’t try to soften me up with nicknames and affection and shit, and then try to beg off by claiming editor-client privilege or whatever. I want the details about what she’s like, and I want them now. You can formally address me as Maureen for the rest of the evening, just to ensure things stay professional.”
My sister has officially lost her mind. “Exactly. Things have to stay professional. And you know that means I can’t tell you anything, Maureen.”
“Ugh!” Her arms fling into the air before landing with a slap on her knees. “Don’t give me that shit, Chase! Mom and Dad already gave you the better name, you can’t keep this from me too.”
“What the hell does one have to do with the other?”
“You’d better just tell her, bro,” my brother-in-law Vinny interjects, popping his head outside of the kitchen briefly. “I haven’t stopped hearing about this since you told her it was happening last week.”
With the way my sister is panting like a dog over any insight into Brooke Baker, you’d think I’ve been working with her for years. Which I haven’t. This will be the first book I’ve worked with Brooke on. Prior to this, we’ve only had a few meetings together. Chatted on the phone several times. Texted occasionally. Other than that, it’s still pretty early in our author-editor relationship.
Though, I can’t deny I do see the appeal. Brooke Baker is fantastic. She’s easygoing and sweet, and her smile never comes across as anything but genuine. She’s a class act, but she’s also relatable and endearing.
“Chase! Details! Now,” my sister nearly growls again, and her eyes start doing this weird thing where I feel concerned they’re going to pop straight out of their sockets.
I sigh heavily, not wanting to go into the details of everything that happened to Brooke during our meeting—obviously, my sister couldn’t know that she had a health episode while she was in my office, and the level of confidentiality I feel is important because of it—but I have to give her something if I don’t want her to peck off one of my limbs.
“It was a really exciting meeting.” In every way possible. “She’s just as hilarious in person as she is in print, which is really refreshing since that’s not always the case. And her newest book is…well, I think it’s seriously special. It’s different, though. So, I’m going to have to sell it to the other editors pretty hard.”
“Different?” Maureen asks, leaning in eagerly. “Different how?”
“Just the whole vibe of it. It’s still really witty writing, but the genre is a bit of a sidestep.”
“Ooh, I am so intrigued right now,” my sister coos. “I need the manuscript.”
I snort, roll my eyes, and grab a popper and toss it into my mouth before sinking into the cushy pillow on the back of Mo’s expensive couch. “You know I can’t give it to you.”
“No, I don’t. Andrea Sachs got Harry Potter for Miranda Priestly. Why can’t you do this for me?”
“Maybe because I value my new job and don’t want to lose it? Or, I don’t know, this isn’t a Hollywood movie? It’s my actual life.”
“Oh!” she grumbles, waving a hand in the air. “You always were such a do-gooder.”
“Look, all I can say is that it’s not a mistake for you to keep fangirling over her. She’s a great writer and, from what contact I’ve had, though limited, a truly awesome human too.” I shrug, trying to keep myself collected under Maureen’s scrutiny. It’s weird. And unnerving. And I don’t know why she’s doing it, but I’m not going to ask. When it comes to my sister, you must never, ever ask. “Her dog is pretty cool too.”
