30. Casey
CASEY
The air feels heavy, even inside. I’m pretty sure it’s just my mood weighing everything down like it has been since yesterday, until I look out the window and see storm clouds in the distance. I study the contrast between the bright blue sky and the dark-as-night clouds lingering over the horizon.
The purple clouds remind me of the bags that started appearing under Trina’s eyes not too long ago.
And as soon as that image hits me, I pinch my temples between my thumb and forefinger, squeezing my eyes shut to try and get rid of it.
I haven’t heard from her since I sent the publicity plan yesterday, and even though I know she needs time to go over it herself and with Imani, I’m a lovesick puppy waiting for a call.
“I was too hard on her,” I mutter to myself.
“Fuck.” I bring my fist down hard on the desk.
In trying to prove myself in the industry, I missed what was important—proving to her that I was a man worth my salt.
One she’d want to be with. One who could take care of her, not just physically, but emotionally too.
“Everything okay?” Ryan asks from the doorway. I glance up at him, unsure of how long he’s been standing there but realizing it doesn’t matter. I don’t have a handle on anything right now, and it’s pointless to pretend I do.
“No,” I say simply.
Ryan frowns and invites himself into my office and sits in one of the chairs. “Anything I can help with?”
“Not unless you can find a way to professionally tell another editor to fuck off and stop ruining my life.”
His eyebrows raise in surprise, but he purses his lips against an infuriating smile. “I don’t know what that’s all about, but you do know that words are kind of your thing, right? I’m sure you could figure out something to say.”
“We put together an incredible plan to position Imani’s book,” I admit, “but there’s nothing I can say to that man that would maintain my professional integrity.” I tap my fingers on top of my desk as I glance at my phone. “I’ve thought about it. A lot.”
“So hit him where it hurts,” Ryan suggests. “Don’t you have a particular agent in your corner who would be willing to help you find the best young adult books out there and fill your catalog?”
“Not anymore.”
“Oh.” Ryan makes a small noise. “Well, shit.”
I pinch my temples again, feeling a headache starting.
“Look, the short version is that Ashton Cochran of Halo Sun has been spreading lies about how I do business and poaching authors from Starlight. Trina asked me about it, and I got stupidly defensive, so now we’re…
I don’t know. Not good. But I have to figure out a way to position Imani’s book ahead of whatever drivel he’s releasing on the same day—probably just to piss me off—and somehow fill out my spring season in a way that will show I can be more successful than him.
And I have to do it all knowing that I had an incredible woman I let slip through my fingers because of my own insecurities.
So, I don’t really have time for this, Ryan. ” I level a glare in his direction.
He raises his hands, palms out. “Message received.” Lowering his hands, he smirks. “But if I may offer some advice?”
“Your expression suggests you have an inability to take this seriously, so no. I don’t need your advice.”
“That’s the problem,” Ryan offers anyway. “You’re taking it too seriously. Half, if not three-quarters of the writers on your list are writing books in stolen minutes between day jobs and family duties. And why do they keep doing it, even despite those challenges?”
“I don’t know, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me,” I mumble.
“Because it’s fun. Because they’re passionate about it. Is Ashton Cochran passionate about good books?”
“He’s not passionate about anything but stepping on me to get ahead.”
“Bingo.” Ryan points at me. “But you have dedicated your life to bringing gorgeous books into the world. That’s why Trina came to you with Scarlett’s manuscript last year.
That’s why Anastasios gave you this role.
Fuck, he didn’t give you anything—you earned it.
You’re letting the business get in the way of the fun.
Writers want to work with people who remind them that bringing beautiful art into the world is the best job there is.
And if we wanted to extend the motif, you probably let it get in the way of the fun you were having with Trina, too. ”
The memory of watching Trina come to life while talking about publishing on her panel in Denver comes rushing back to me.
“But the written word is important,” she had said.
“Now more than ever. In a time when anyone can produce a novel with a few keystrokes in a computer program, the art of writing and reading is special. It’s remarkable.
Even the struggle is vital. It shows us we’re alive, in a way. ”
She had been worried about losing that. Turns out I should have been, too.
“Trina was more than fun,” I protest weakly.
“Of course she was. So are books. But don’t lose sight of the joy, you know? That’s what you’ve got that the other guy doesn’t. That’s what’s going to keep your relationship going through the tough stuff.” Ryan stands. “And if I can offer one more piece of advice?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re going to whether I want it or not.”
Sure enough, he continues as if he didn’t even hear me. “When someone stops acting professional to you, the rules no longer apply. Tell that guy where he can shove it, then lay it to rest so you can move on to more important things.”
And with that, he leaves. But not without a wink on his way out the door.
I can’t help the chuckle that rises out of me because he’s right. Fuck professionalism. If Ashton isn’t going to follow the rules, I won’t either.
I look up his office number, then dial quickly before I lose my nerve. He answers on the second ring.
“Do you have a particular beef with me, or are you spreading lies about all the young adult publishers?” I ask by way of greeting.
He lets out a laugh that sounds almost sinister. “Casey Endersen. I was wondering how long it would take you to call. Look, it’s not personal. It’s business. Releasing on the same date as your author makes sense, which you’d know if you paid attention in class—”
“You mean if I found a pretty girl to take notes for me in class,” I correct him.
He falls silent. “I don’t give a shit about your release dates.
Keeper of Secrets is going to blow your book out of the water.
What I do give a shit about is your lies.
That is personal, Ashton, and I’m not really sure what your angle is. ”
There’s a contemplative silence from his side, so I wait him out. Eventually, he takes a breath. “Look, the higher-ups at Morgan & Danielson hired me for this because I guaranteed I could outshine you.”
“And your plan was to lie and poach authors from my list to make yourself look better?”
“I never lied,” he insists, and his smarmy, overconfident tone is back. “I made some suggestions and offered a lot of money. Your authors were clearly concerned and attracted by the dollar signs.”
“Hm.” I nod slowly. “Do you have a plan to help those authors earn out those shiny advances? Because without one, you’re going to be so far in the hole, you won’t be able to climb back out again.”
“That’s publicity’s problem,” he says, but he sounds slightly unconvinced.
“Ultimately, it’s your problem. If Halo Sun goes under, it’ll be on you. You’re the one in charge now, remember? Or did you forget to con some girl into giving you notes on that lesson?”
He doesn’t say anything, but I can practically feel him fuming over the line.
“Look,” I continue, wanting to wrap up this call as quickly as I can.
“Copy whatever you want from me. Steal my release dates, duplicate my press releases and my team’s social media posts.
The cream will rise.” My heart is bolstered as I quote my mom, almost as if she’s in the room with me, cheering me on.
“Eventually, people will see you don’t have any original ideas. But keep my name out of your mouth.”
He laughs humorlessly. “What are you going to do about it?”
“You don’t want to find out.” He’s not the only one who can spout off false bravado. “Goodbye, Ashton. I really hope we don’t have to speak about this again.”
I quickly hang up before he can get another word in, then put my head in my hands and take a few deep breaths. I’m not a fan of confrontation, and it takes a few seconds before the adrenaline leaves my system.
Just as I’m starting to feel less shaky, the phone rings. Grumbling to myself about Ashton not knowing when to quit, I answer with the most professionalism I can muster.
“Casey?” Imani’s voice comes through the receiver. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
I drag up all the energy I can find in my reserves. “Not at all. What’s going on?”
“Have you talked to Trina recently?”
A pit of dread builds in my stomach. Swallowing hard, I say, “Not since yesterday. Why? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, actually. I got an email from the head of the agency that said Trina is no longer employed with them. But she didn’t call me or anything, and she’s not answering her phone.”
“She’s no longer employed with them?” I repeat, dumbfounded. There was nothing more important to Trina than her job. That was the root of our fight and the whole reason I’ve been miserable for days. The dread grows in my belly, coupled with guilt. If Suzanna found out about us and fired Trina…
“She didn’t tell you anything?” Imani asks, clearly hopeful I might have some information.
“No,” I say distractedly. “Let me see what I can find out, okay? I’ll call you if I hear anything.”
“Okay.” She sounds uncertain, but there’s nothing else I can tell her.
I try not to let my worry overtake my common sense as I usher Imani off the phone as quickly as I can.
There’s an explanation for this, and if I can fix it for Trina, I will—whether she wants to be with me or not.
I’ll never forgive myself if I ruined this for her.
As soon as Imani hangs up, I don’t waste any time grabbing my cell phone and pulling up Trina’s contact information. I call her, but it goes straight to voicemail. I try again, but the same thing happens.
Thunder rumbles outside, and a quick glance at the clock on my phone tells me it’s time to get out of here.
With at least an hour drive and the season’s first thunderstorm ahead of me, traffic back into the city is going to be awful.
Which will give me some time to decide if I’m going to go straight to Trina’s apartment and bust down her door if I have to, or go home first and try to come up with a better plan.