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I lie, of course.
“We’re in negotiations right now, Cam,” I say, my stomach twisting at my risky, boldfaced fib. “The author is hesitant to go public, so we have to work around that, but I hope to have everything finalized very soon.”
He leans closer. “You know, why don’t you bring them by my party this weekend? We’ll work on them there.”
Holy crap. Did I really just hear Cameron invite me to a party? One that he’s hosting?
We all know Cameron throws parties. But he never invites any of us lowly employees. He saves his hospitality for the higher-ups in the company so he can suck up.
But he just invited me.
I don’t know whether to be thrilled or petrified.
Maybe both?
I pat Cameron’s hand like we’re friends or something. “I can’t do that, Cam. The, um, author is very shy, at least at this point in our talks. I’m working on them though.”
Not convinced, he shakes his head.
“Ralph here just acquired a western romance. Those stories are still selling like hotcakes. They’ll never fade in popularity, isn’t that right, Ralph?”
Ralph’s face is covered in smug, and I’d like to shove a jellybean right up his ass.
“Ride ‘em cowboy, right, Ralph?” Cameron doubles over laughing after pretending to crack a whip.
God help me.
Maybe Daisy had a point. I could always lie and say she wrote it. But now the real author knows they’re being pursued, so there’s no way that would work. Dammit. Oh, why did I show my hand and go chasing after the nonexistent Ryder Night?
“Cam, I have an idea. If, for some reason, the real author of my book decides they are dead set against publishing, could we buy the rights and publish it under another name, like you suggested initially?”
I don’t like the idea but if we’re desperate…
He scoffs. “Nah. I’m not spending that kind of money on some amateur who probably wrote this on their kitchen table. To hell with that.”
Okay. Maybe go back to the Daisy idea.
Holy fuck, I’m desperate. To even consider doing something so unethical is disgusting, not to mention a sure way to ruin my career.
What’s left of it.
Cameron wanders away, looking for someone else to badger, and Ralph runs after him with a ‘hey boss.’ Cameron keeps walking so Ralph has to talk to his back, and I wonder if every job is so chock full of petty insults.
As soon as Ralph’s out of sight, I lean over and reach my hand deep inside his jellybean jar, pulling out a nice handful for myself. I spill a couple on his desk, giving myself away, and I don’t even care.
He may have gotten his cowboy book, but I’m going to get my romance novel, too.
I toss all the jellybeans in my mouth at once, and head out for lunch with my mother.
Because, apparently, I haven’t already had enough abuse for one day.
16
AMALIA
I pushthrough the ornate doors of Bergdorf Goodman and head for the elevators that will take me to their café, Mom’s favorite place for lunch. The clomping of my combat boots on the shiny floor turns heads, but most of the nosy bodies look away just as fast. This is New York and everybody’s pretty much seen it all, even someone like me walking through the hallowed halls of New York’s most prestigious shopping mecca.
Mom waves me over, seated at her usual table where she has a view of the entire place, so she can see which of her friends and enemies are coming and going. She looks at her wristwatch, her passive-aggressive way of saying I’m five minutes late, and beams at me even though her eyes are overflowing with disapproval at my appearance.
