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“I think thechallengeis to get you to sit like a grown up in my house, and not fuck up that chair,” I tell him.
Wyatt rolls his eyes and repositions himself, feet on the floor. “Just sayin’. I love a woman with problems. Got issues? Bring ‘em my way.”
He starts tapping on his phone and I know he’s looking Amalia up on LinkedIn, and when his eyebrows shoot to the top of his forehead, I know he’s found her.
“Damn, brother. She’s a little hottie. Intense but at the same time pretty with those dark red lips.”
“Don’t even think about it, Wy,” Henry warns.
Wyatt rolls his head on his neck like he always does when he’s getting annoyed. “Hey, you don’t own her. Or do you? Were you gonna ask her out? Fess up, Hen.”
Not gonna happen. I don’t want either of those idiots asking her out. I’ve got enough problems in my life without causingtrouble at my publishing house. Where the meeting we had just a few hours ago did not go well.
“Put it back in your pants, boys. We’re in New York. There is no end to the number of women you can stalk, harass, or menace,” I say.
Wyatt slams his hand on his knee and laughs. “You crack me up, Levi. When have I ever stalked, harassed, or menaced a woman? Dude, I am fucking Prince Charming. Women love me.”
Wyatt, my oldest friend,isa pretty boy. There’s no denying it. Loaded as hell, too, although you’d never know it by looking at him. He’s a secret brainiac nerd packaged like a guy who looks like he just walked out of a scary motorcycle club.
And funny as hell.
Henry, my agent, who deserves all credit for relentlessly pushing my books, pushes a lock of floppy surfer hair off his face and jams his untucked button-down back in his jeans. “Yeah. Keep telling yourself that, Wy.Prince Charming,” he scoffs.
Jeopardy-obsessed Henry, whom we’ve known for a few years, is the man who rounds out our little band of brothers, or three amigos, or whatever you want to call us. Yeah, we’re together nearly all the time, bound by an unspoken loyalty and commitment to having each other’s backs at all times.
“If you bitches can stop your cat fight for five minutes, I’d like to talk about grown-up shit,” I say.
They look at me, annoyed, but waiting.
Hell, someone around here needs to act like a grown-up.
I lean forward, looking for a non-lumpy spot on my ancient sofa, and rest my forearms on my thighs. This isn’t going to be an easy conversation. “Henry. Do we really have to work with Empire Ink Press? That Cameron guy makes my skin crawl. He’s such a smarmy suck-up and has a reputation for dropping authors like hot potatoes whenever he feels like it. And the advance they offered is, well… a big fucking joke.”
Henry sits back in his chair, and stares at the ceiling. Yeah, I know we’ve had this talk before. But it’s never been resolved, at least not to my satisfaction.
“Levi, as your agent, I can tell you I got you the best deal I could. You may not like Empire or our contact there but they offered the best deal. Sure, we could have gone elsewhere, but you need to pay your bills, right? You gotta keep this sweet apartment,” he adds with a smirk.
He has a point, but damn. Yeah, I’ve been in this place since I graduated college, and maybe it’s not much to look at, but it’s under rent control. I won’t give this place up until the building falls down or I croak. Or I have more money than I know what to do with. Whichever comes first.
“You know what you need to do, Levi?” Henry continues, not done lecturing me. “You need to write your next goddamn book. You can have all the meetings in the world with all the publishing houses you want. You can spend day and night dickering over pennies. But if you don’t write another goddamn book for me to sell, we’re all in trouble.”
Wyatt clears his throat. Okay,hewouldn’t be in trouble. He has no connection to the business interests Henry and I share. He’s set for life with some software app he sold when he was twenty-two. Which he thinks leaves him free to offer all the unwelcome advice he wants to.
On the other hand, maybe he’s entitled. He does pay for a lot of the shit we do. The guy’s beyond generous.
“Well, I just thought we could have gotten more for my last book—” I start to say.
Henry points at me, and I realize I’ve gone too far. Questioning his publishing and agenting acumen is never a good move, and his eyes are dark with insult. “If you don’t want to work with the jerky publishers who, oh by the way, pay youmore than anyone else offered, you should have found a way to become independently wealthy, like Wyatt over there.”
Nodding, Wyatt puffs his chest out.
“Well, we can’t all become dot com millionaires at the age of twenty-two and never have to work again,” I gripe.
Not to take anything away from my childhood buddy. I’m not resentful. Really, I’m not.
“Hey asshole, I don’t exactly sit around the house eating bonbons all day. I work,” Wyatt says, frowning.
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “That’s because I give you BS tasks to take care of for me. You know, so you don’t blow out any more windows.”
