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Phillip returns. He’s put on a pair of shorts and is now setting the tray down in the middle of the bed. His hair is mussed, and there’s a sharp color staining his cheekbones.
His eyes dance as they travel over my naked body. “Hey,” he says.
I reach out and take a french fry. It’s still crunchy, even if it’s no longer warm. “Hi,” I say. “So… it wasn’t a corkscrew.”
He looks at me for a surprised moment before he breaks into laughter.
It’s the best sound I’ve ever heard.
I draw my knees up on the lounge chair and rest my head on them, looking over at Phillip. He’s reading on my phone. There’s a frown between his eyebrows.
I feel like I’ve jumped off the deep end.
He makes a humming sound, and his thumb flicks as he scrolls through the contract. His patio umbrella casts a shadow across us both, and that’s good because the midday sun is scorching.
“Okay,” he says. “So the royalty clause seems pretty standard, but I’m not an expert in the publishing field.”
“Right.”
“The rights clause though… They own the rights in perpetuity. There is no time limit set for renegotiation.”
I sigh. “Yeah, they do. That’s pretty airtight, right?”
He nods, and the last shred of hope I had in showing him the contract forOne Fatal Stepmelts away.
Phillip looks up at me. “But, and this isn’t a legal advice, you could probably buy back the copyright.”
“I could?”
“Yes. Do you know how much the book is selling for now?”
It takes me a second to answer. “Practically nothing. It hasn’t earned back its advance.”
“All right,” he says. “Well, then you can make them an offer. Something they can’t refuse. Let’s say you offer to pay back half of your advance in exchange for getting the rights back.”
“Half of the advance?”
“As an opening offer,” he says. The beard on his face is thicker now, and his hair isn’t brushed back the way it was the first day I’d met him.
He looks like he’s on vacation.
“You can always up the offer later on,” he continues. “If you want the rights back, I’m sure there’s something you can do. Just don’t leave them with the impression that you’re hungry for it. That’ll give them the advantage.”
“Right.” I dig my teeth into my lower lip and consider my next words. It’s not something I’ve spoken out loud. “I might decide to give it another shot… at some point.”
“Getting published?”
“Sort of.” This was the part Caleb never understood, and Becky wanted to, but her advice was alwaysdo what makes you happy,and I’m not sure if this will. I could fail again. “Not through a publisher. I’ve been reading a bit about self-publishing. And… you know I’ve kept writing.”
“How many books do you have finished?”
“Two, but they need editing.”
His eyebrows rise. “Really?”
“Yes. I mean, they’re just on my hard drive because the publishing house wasn’t interested in anymore. And the last book, well, it didn’t sell, so I’m not exactly sure if my others would.”
“They might,” he says. “As I said, publishers have different preferences. But self-publishing might be another avenue. If you’ve already written the books, you don’t have anything to lose.”
