Chapter Three
Jess
Well, this is unexpected.
Behind the door is not only Jess’s potential fairy godmother, albeit with no wand, sparkly or otherwise, but also … the hottie from earlier. Alex. She swallows hard. She’d pinch herself, if there was a way to do so surreptitiously and not look like a clichéd character in a badly written novel.
‘Hello,’ she says, levelly, waiting to be introduced.
Nathan stands to his feet and extends his hand.
‘Very nice to finally meet in person,’ he says, shaking her hand firmly but not aggressively.
His grip is the trustworthy type. The ‘you’re in good hands’ type of grip.
She couldn’t tell you what kind of grip Alex has, though.
She only knows that something like electricity is flowing through it.
What is the universe playing at, exactly?
Has she, in fact, hit her head and woken up in a romcom, like in the plot of that Rebel Wilson film?
‘This is Alex Maxwell,’ she vaguely hears Nathan saying. ‘One of my superstar authors.’
‘Lovely to put a name to a face,’ she says, smiling.
Alex remains impassive, as though he’s never seen her before.
Is it possible he has a twin, who is somehow also called Alex?
Or that the door to Nathan’s office is in fact a portal to another universe, and Jess has landed in one in which she and Alex have never met before?
In this moment, it feels as plausible as any other explanation.
She waits for all to become clear.
Nathan gestures to an armchair, and she does as she’s told and sits down.
‘I wanted to invite you here today because I have a proposition for you. An invitation, really, more than a proposition.’
Jess looks to Alex. There is nothing to read on his face at all.
‘As you know, Jess, my marketing team speak very highly of you. They love the humour in your book reviews and enjoy the way you write about the bookshops you visit around the world. I also happen to know that you can write dialogue in a way that really sparkles. And rumour has it that you’d be interested in trying your hand at your own novel. ’
Jess’s heart, which had begun to pound in her ears, increases its volume. Between that and the choir of angels, she is having a lot of trouble hearing Nathan, never mind processing what he says next. Sparkling dialogue? Is he talking about her fanfic? Has he read her fanfic?
‘I can’t offer you your own novel, not yet. But what I can offer you is the chance to work with this great writer.’
‘You mean,’ Alex chimes in, the words great writer having seemingly summoned him into the conversation, ‘as a mentor? I’d be honoured. Though I’m a little busy at the moment—’
But Nathan interrupts him with a shake of his head. ‘No, not exactly. Jess would be a kind of editorial consultant.’
Jess watches Alex’s mouth fly open in shock. Then notices herself noticing his mouth, and scolds herself internally. Then realises her own mouth is open, and promptly closes it.
‘What exactly did you have in mind?’ Alex asks.
‘Well,’ Nathan begins. ‘Jess is witty. She has a lightness of touch even with serious book reviews. She writes brilliantly in the voices of characters she hasn’t created herself.
’ So he has read her fan fiction. Or at least somebody on his team has.
Should she be embarrassed? Worried about Alex judging her even more than he already is?
Focus, she tells herself. ‘And, if her social media is to be believed, she reads 150 books a year, and writes about many of them, too. She has a great instinct for what the next big thing is going to be, and she has a good sense of what works well in fiction and what readers want.’
Alex narrows his eyes at Nathan. He does not look at Jess. ‘What kind of books?’ When Nathan doesn’t respond immediately, he repeats himself. ‘What kind of books does she read?’
Jess doesn’t love being talked about as if she isn’t there. She also doesn’t love where it feels like this is going. ‘I read all kinds of books,’ she says. ‘I read lit fic, and non-fiction, and YA, and fantasy, and thrillers. And yes, I read romance.’
She forces herself to look straight at him when she says romance.
Not in a flirtatious way, but in a I-refuse-to-be-shamed-about-this way.
It is ridiculous in this day and age that being shamed for reading any genre of novel is still something that she – that anyone – needs to fight against. ‘Romance powers the publishing industry,’ she says, her argument long ready and long rehearsed for precisely this kind of situation.
‘It’s the sales of writers like Emily Henry and Jasmine Guillory that fund the publishing of obscure lit-fic novels about white men walking around Hampstead Heath thinking deep thoughts. ’
She sees a smile playing on Nathan’s lips, and buoyed by this, she continues her spiel.
‘And there’s a special kind of skill involved in following a template in genre fiction but making it your own.
Whether that’s when somebody is murdered, and we have to find the killer, or these people are in love – can they make it.
The reader knows what the ending is – in fact, they pick the book up precisely because they know the ending, but they want to see what new twist on the journey the author is going to provide for them on the way there.
And on top of that, lots of romance writers are funny.
Which, let’s be honest, is something we all need from the world right now – a bit of laughter. ’
She leaves a pause. ‘But I read all kinds of books.’
Alex finally looks at her full in the face for the first time since the bookshop. ‘You feel passionately about romance, though, by the sound of it.’
The word passion does something to her insides that she wishes it wouldn’t in this particular context. She is passionate about romance, as it happens. But she is also defensive of it, and she knows that defensiveness is not a good look – not for herself, and not for the genre.
‘I think it deserves respect.’
‘And would you say it’s your favourite genre?’
‘I read everything.’
‘But your favourite?’
He’s got her there. Because she knows that if she says yes, she will lose whatever respect he has for her, her well-constructed speech notwithstanding. But if she says no, she will lose her self-respect, and that’s far more important.
‘As it happens, yes.’
He turns his attention back to Nathan. ‘And you want us to work together?’
‘I do.’ The eye contact between Nathan and Alex lasts.
And lasts. Jess suspects they are having an entire conversation with that eye contact.
A conversation that mostly consists of Alex begging, ‘Please, no, anything but this, anything but her.’ So much for that meet-cute in the bookshop; so much for her bumping her head and landing in a romcom.
He doesn’t even seem to remember her. He certainly has no respect for her.
Nathan clears his throat and speaks again. ‘I think your book has a lot of potential, Alex. You know that. Some great characters, some great social issues, some masterful sentences. It just needs – a bit of je ne sais quoi.’
‘And you think she—’
Jess clears her throat. Inserts her name. ‘Jess.’
‘Jess is the one to do that.’
‘I think Jess could help you add an interesting dimension to your writing. I think you could learn from each other. So yes, in answer to your question, you would be mentoring her, in a way.’
‘And she’d be mentoring me.’
‘Think of it as helping you to get in touch with your emotions. And find your lost sense of humour.’
‘I haven’t lost my sense of humour.’
A snort escapes Jess’s lips before she can help it.
This whole conversation is so evidently devoid of humour that it seems absurd he could think of himself as someone with any sense of what’s amusing.
She’s heard Alex Maxwell’s name, of course, though she hasn’t read his books.
She’s heard it in conjunction with phrases like ‘surprisingly funny’ and ‘warm and witty’ and even ‘emotionally intelligent’.
All of which makes her wonder if his novels are ghostwritten.
Or maybe co-written by another unsuspecting romance novelist plucked from obscurity, and perhaps thereafter murdered and buried in his back garden.
‘I think,’ she says, because this is becoming unbearable, ‘that this maybe isn’t going to work.’
Alex nods emphatically, but Nathan is not to be moved.
‘Nonsense. He just needs a moment to get used to the idea. What I have in mind is for you, Jess, to take this novel away, have a read, think about where it can be improved – sorry, altered … supplemented, if you will, with a romantic plotline. And also suggest some jokes – anything to make it lighter.’
‘There’s not a lot that’s funny about a plane crash,’ Alex says.
‘There’s humour in everything,’ Jess says. ‘Throughout history, that’s how entire peoples have survived their hardest periods. With dark humour.’
‘Exactly,’ Nathan says, obviously pleased that she seems to be joining in with his beating Alex into submission.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing how you draw out a love story from this plane wreck.
’ Is he referencing the plot? Or the book itself?
Who knows. ‘That might mean writing or rewriting some passages, amplifying some characters. Maybe working with Alex on the structure a bit. And you could also tease the book on social media, get people excited about what’s coming next from him. ’
Jess knows she should say no. She can tell already that Alex is going to be impossible to work with, and not just because she is distracted by his inconvenient good looks.
But there’s a fizz of excitement deep in her belly.
She wants this. It sounds like an adventure.
To take a stodgy lit-fic novel and make it into something people are actually tempted to read?
To add a love story where there isn’t one already? Yes, please.
She’s learned, though, not to show her hand too quickly.
If you’re too obvious about your enthusiasm, there’s a danger that you’ll be expected to do something for the love of books, rather than for money or for reward.
And it’s not that she wouldn’t do something for the love of books alone, but she also needs to eat.
Pay rent. Live in London, where even the air seems to cost money.
So she takes a deep breath and she asks a question that doesn’t come naturally. ‘What’s in it for me, though?’
‘I would have thought that was obvious,’ Alex mutters.
She chooses to play his game. ‘Aside from learning from a master, obviously.’
Nathan smiles. She gets the sense he is enjoying this back-and-forth far too much.
‘You’ll be mentioned in the press release that goes out to the media, and the collaboration will be pitched as one of the unique things about this book – something that reviewers and podcasters will pick up on.
I’m aware you’re pretty well-known on the bookish internet already but this’ll elevate your status even further.
Pretty prestigious, don’t you think? Might lead to a book deal of your own someday. ’
She waits, hoping her excitement isn’t too visible. Because she needs something else, too.
‘And, obviously, generous remuneration.’
Jess lets her grin out at last. ‘Now we’re talking,’ she says. She’s already spending the advance in her mind: a bigger flat, more bookshelves, a foodie holiday for herself, a cruise for her grandparents.
Alex clears his throat. ‘And what’s in it for me?’
‘A better book. Jess’s contacts to help you sell it. Is that somehow not enough?’
‘My books sell fine,’ he says. ‘And when a successful literary author brings out a long-awaited next novel, there’s always a flurry of reviews.
’ Jess isn’t sure how she manages not to roll her eyes.
Successful literary author. She would bet that foodie holiday that she knows what Alex is thinking – that he doesn’t need Bookstagram; that’s for the lesser writers, the author of commercial fiction.
Of romance novels, say. For someone like him, The Guardian is enough.
‘Reviews don’t sell books like they used to,’ Nathan says. ‘And anyway, we’re going for better than selling fine this time around. We’re going for stratospheric.’
A smile escapes from Alex, too. Jess is vaguely aware that Nathan is playing both of them to perfection to get to the yes he is aiming for.
But the thing is, she’d love to write a novel.
Much as she’d never admit it to Alex, working alongside someone like him would be a good place to start.
If only he weren’t so rude and pretentious.
The patches on his elbows should have clued her in.
Trust the universe to finally send her a meet-cute, but get the details so very wrong.