Chapter 17
The conference directors already had everything set up and ready to go when Julien and Martha found the room allocated for pitch appointments.
Because of the number of attendees, there weren’t enough private rooms available at the hotel for each agent, editor, and mentor to have their own individual space to interact with the writers.
Instead, a larger conference room was utilized with folding tables interspersed about ten feet apart to provide as much privacy as possible.
While maybe not ideal, it allowed for everyone who had paid to attend the conference to have an opportunity to get their stories in the hands of industry leaders and possibly on the road to publication.
“Here you are.” The woman in charge of the pitch room stopped in front of a table with both Julien’s and Martha’s names printed on a tented piece of cardstock. “Is there anything else you need?”
“No, I think we’re all set. Thank you so much.”
She nodded in acknowledgment of Julien’s thanks, then left them to attend to an editor from another publishing house that focused on folklore and fairy-tale retellings.
Julien pulled his laptop out of its leather case and set it on the table in front of him. “We have about an hour before the first appointment. Do you mind if we use the time to weed through some book proposals that Caroline forwarded to me?”
“Caroline is Squire’s acquisitions editor?” Martha pulled out the second chair and took a seat.
“Correct.” He typed in his password and waited for his computer to load the home screen. “She sent me a handful of proposals she thinks have promise.”
Martha scooted closer, her gaze pinned on the open laptop. “Let’s see what she’s got.”
With Martha inches away from his face, Julien shallowed his breathing in an effort not to inhale her scent. The effort was futile, however, as his lungs filled with the fresh aroma of orange blossoms and vanilla. His eyes closed of their own accord. Man, she smelled good.
If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was on a mission to torture him.
First her adorable pajamas and now her intoxicating scent.
Why couldn’t they have come back into each other’s lives under different circumstances?
In any other scenario, Julien wouldn’t have hesitated a second before asking Martha out.
Was she feeling the same sort of connection that he was?
Using all his self-control to ignore the nearness of the woman next to him and the memories of how her hips felt in his hands when he’d had to hold her steady after she’d run into him the night before, he clicked into his email provider and brought up the first book proposal.
“This one is a sweeping fantasy filled with dragons and an intricate magic system. Caroline thinks dragon books are perennial and that Squire should piggyback on the popularity of the Wings of Fire series as well as the live-action remake of How to Train Your Dragon.”
Martha tilted her chin. “She’s not wrong. Fantasy books are always pretty popular at the library, especially for middle grade and YA readers.”
They both read from the screen at the same time, beginning with the details the author included about the manuscript—a synopsis, the target audience, and comparative titles—as well as the information on the author herself—bio, social media and newsletter platform numbers—and her marketing plan.
Julien scrolled to the beginning of the first sample chapter when his phone rang.
He glanced down and was surprised to see Tomiko calling.
“Excuse me. I should probably take this.” He stood but motioned to the laptop. “Go ahead and keep reading. You can tell me if you think it has any credibility.”
Martha nodded and reangled the computer toward herself as Julien hit the button to accept the call. “Tomiko, everything all right?” he asked as he walked to the back of the room that afforded the most privacy at the moment.
“Sorry,” his assistant said, a slight tremble to her voice. “I know you’re busy and have a lot on your plate, a lot riding on this weekend. It’s just . . . I thought you’d want to know . . .”
“Know what, Tomiko?”
“Mr. King, Senior, sir. He said he’d fire me if I told, but it seemed like something you or Mrs. King should know about.
I really love my job, Mr. King, and I don’t want to be fired.
But I also feel like I have to say something to someone.
I’d feel so guilty if something worse happened and I hadn’t said anything . . .”
Julien’s heart was in his throat. If something had happened to Dad and he was making threats, it couldn’t have been good.
“You won’t get fired. I promise.” He tried to keep his tone level and ended up grinding his molars to keep the impatience out of his voice. “Now, tell me what happened.”
“You promise I won’t get fired?”
“Tomiko.” Julien was barely holding on to his restraint.
His assistant sighed. “Mr. King, Senior, had me go to the bakery around the corner and get him a double espresso and a Boston cream donut.”
She’d done what?! No wonder she’d wanted assurances she wouldn’t lose her job.
And his dad. He knew better. He knew how worried Mom and Julien were about his health.
He’d heard the doctor’s warnings about hypertensive crisis and how important it was that he make lifestyle changes.
While his dad dangled the carrot of retirement in front of them with this test Julien had to pass, he’d promised to do better when it came to diet and exercise.
“When I brought them to his office, he’d been sitting on his couch with some papers.
He stood up, but then he got really dizzy.
He swayed on his feet, and I thought he was going to faint or fall over or something.
I managed to get my hands free and help him sit back down on the couch.
I asked him if I should call for an ambulance, but he said no.
He said he’d fire me if I told anyone. That he’d only stood up too fast and it wasn’t a big deal and I needed to stop overreacting.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I did overreact, but it scared me. ”
Julien pinched the bridge of his nose as he took in measured breaths. “Thank you for telling me, Tomiko, but from now on, no more sneaking my dad food, even if he threatens you.”
“Yes, sir.”
Julien ended the call and let the back of his head hit the wall behind him.
If his dad were in front of him, he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from shaking his old man by the shoulders.
Donuts? Espressos? His blood pressure at his last doctor’s visit had been 177 over 98.
A systolic of 180 or higher and/or diastolic of more than 120 would be crisis level and potentially life-ending.
The doctor started him on medication but had said that it can sometimes take several weeks or months to reach full efficacy, especially while they worked on finding the correct dosage.
In the meantime, he was supposed to eat right, exercise more, and reduce stress.
As far as Julien knew, he hadn’t done any of those things.
Julien was the child, not the parent, and yet he didn’t feel he could trust his dad to make the right decisions without someone looking after him.
Whatever was driving his father to cling to the previous chapters of his life instead of accepting the stage he was at now was making him live recklessly.
But Julien was two states away. He couldn’t keep an eye on his father while he was in Florida.
Lifting his phone, Julien dialed his mom. In a way he felt like he was betraying his dad by tattling on him (what he’d call it), but he also felt he’d be betraying his mom if he didn’t say anything.
Tabitha King answered on the second ring. Julien relayed what had happened and then waited for his mom’s reaction.
She was quiet for a few moments, but when she spoke, he could hear the tears in her voice.
“Julien, I don’t want to add more pressure on you, and, in a perfect world, we wouldn’t be where we are right now, but we are.
Son, please. You have to do everything you can at that conference to find an author that can make this all stop.
We can’t continue this way. I don’t know—” She sniffed.
“I don’t know how much time we have left.
Your father . . .” She sniffed again, her voice hardening.
“Whatever it takes, Julien. I know you can do it, son.”
Pocketing his phone, Julien pushed off the wall and strode back over to Martha at their table.
Resolve crystallized in his gut with each step, making him immune to the regret that churned there as well.
He’d been too easily distracted lately, letting his mind stray from its current objective and entertain thoughts of romance.
He couldn’t let that happen anymore. From now on, he needed to stay single-mindedly focused if he was going to have any chance at success and not letting his family down.
The battle was already going to be uphill.
He couldn’t let his wayward thoughts about Martha keep him from reaching the top. Too much was at stake.
“So? Is it worth our time?” he asked gruffly as he came up to the table.
Inwardly he winced as his tone reached his ears.
He sounded just like his dad when he spoke like that.
Tightening his jaw, he stood his ground.
Embodying John King was what he needed. Immovable.
Undeviating. Driven. Those were the qualities of success.
Martha startled, then looked up at him with wide eyes. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you coming.”
He indicated the laptop with a thrust of his chin. “Was the book any good, or did we just waste our time?”
“Oh, umm.” She blinked, collecting herself. “There were things I liked . . .” She trailed off, biting her lip.
He did not give his eyes permission to lower and take in the way her teeth sank into her plump bottom lip. His back molars ground together, but his gaze remained firm on hers. “Stop hesitating and say what you want to say.”
“I don’t want to say it, that’s why I’m hesitating,” she muttered.
“Martha, I’m paying you a lot of money, and I expect you to fulfill the job requirements laid out for you. If you can’t do that, then you shouldn’t have accepted the terms of our agreement.”
Her head jerked back as if he’d slapped her.
Do not soften. Julien’s nails bit into his palms as he squeezed his hands into fists.
There was a price to pay for everything, they say, and this one came with a steep tag.
He didn’t apologize, although the words were heavy on his tongue.
He wouldn’t fail either of his parents, but he might hate himself when all was said and done.
The apples of Martha’s cheeks stained red, but she tilted her head as she considered him. After a moment, her brows lowered. “Are you okay, Julien? Did something happen on that phone call?”
Julien pressed his lips together, stealing himself against his natural responses. “Please focus on what I hired you for. Were those chapters a waste of our time or not?”
She regarded him a moment longer before sighing and turning back to his laptop. “Keep in mind that anything I say is just my uneducated opinion.”
“Martha.” He bit her name out.
She turned back toward him, but this time she was glaring. “Look, I happen to think that every story has worth and value. None of them are a waste of time. And to hear you speak like that, well, it’s making me angry.”
“Noted.”
She shook her head at him when he didn’t add anything past the one word. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but this is my formal protest.”
“Again, noted. Can we move on now to where you actually answer my initial question?” His head was starting to hurt from holding his jaw so tight.
“Fine.” Her eyes narrowed, and the muscle in her own jaw ticked. “While the overall story idea has merit, the execution falls flat. I think the author does have the beginnings of something, but it’s not far enough along in the process to be ready to publish.”
“Thank you. Was that so hard?”
Her shoulders slumped as her gaze wandered to nothing in particular, as if she were looking internally instead of at anything in the room. “Actually, yes. It was even harder than I thought it would be.”
Her disquiet disturbed Julien. Enough to penetrate the hardness he was so desperately trying to maintain. There was a story behind the curve of her spine and the way she seemed to have gone into herself.
He sat down beside her and weighed the pros and cons of reaching out and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Asking her if she wanted to talk about whatever had suddenly caused her distress.
But then her gaze came back into focus, and her posture snapped into place. When she looked at him, sadness touched her honey-hued eyes and the barest hint of a defensive snarl curled her lips. “But that’s what you’re paying me for, right?”
Now it was his turn to feel slapped. Except in his case, he deserved it. The sales tax on that price tag.
Losing any chance he might have had with Martha would be the hidden fee.