Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Katie
The glass skyscraper rises in front of us—it looks like it touches the clouds. The building oozes style, class, and ultimately money.
“Your publisher’s office is here?” Amy squeaks.
“Uh huh,” I respond, stunned. Having only spoken to Celia, my agent, online, I didn’t know what to expect.
We reach the bottom of the steps leading to the sliding front doors.
A huge chrome sign above states Miller Publishing.
A tremor of reality skitters down my spine.
This isn’t just a publisher; it’s the publisher.
Amy turns me to face her and cuddles me tight. “Go kick ass, girl. I love you.”
Tears spring to my eyes unexpectedly, blurring the chrome sign till it looks liquid, then I turn and walk up the steps toward my future.
My heels click on the slickly polished black tiles, each one louder than my heartbeat, before I enter the lift, which takes me to the reception area on the third floor.
The decoration is minimalist with only white walls, chrome furniture, and one huge abstract painting hanging on the wall behind the desk.
The woman behind it is smartly dressed, her dark hair tied into a tight bun. Shrewd eyes rise to locking with mine.
“Welcome to Miller Publishing. How can I help?” she says.
The breath leaves my body in a panic; my words stick in my throat. “Um,” I stutter. “Katie Clark, to see Celia Miller.”
“Take a seat, please, Miss Clark. Ms. Miller is just finishing up her previous meeting. She will be with you shortly,” she tells me before returning her attention to her screen.
My legs wobble toward the black leather chairs set around a glass table. Picking the seat facing the door I expect Celia Miller to appear through, I collapse in the chair.
“One, two, three....” I breathe in and out, trying to settle my nerves.
“Miss Clark?” The sharp voice from behind startles me.
I turn to see a tall brunette woman. She’s classically dressed in a chic black business suit with a white shirt starched within an inch of its life. Her features are soft, but her eyes tell me this is a strong, confident individual.
I smile at her shyly.
“Katie Clark. I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you in person. Conducting all our business over the phone is terribly frustrating.” Her face displays a huge, beaming smile, and she sticks out a hand in greeting.
I grasp it firmly, not wanting to seem tense. Her handshake is warm but decisive, like she knows I’m worth the effort.
“This way, please.” Her office is decorated in the same way she’s dressed: smartly, professionally, and expensively.
Huge windows overlook the city. She sits behind a giant black desk, on a white leather chair.
Piles of paperwork fill the surface, but each one is arranged meticulously, not one sheet out of place.
Not wanting to disturb anything, I sit gently, not moving, my hands locked in my lap so I don’t accidentally smudge something priceless.
“So, Katie. Can I call you Katie?” She smiles warmly, and I nod.
“How does it feel to be getting published? Your book will be on the shelves at every major bookshop,” she says.
“It’s like a dream,” I squeak, sounding like a ten-year-old girl, not a woman of fifty. “A dream come true,” I say after clearing my throat. “I’m not sure I’ll believe it until I have a copy in my hands.”
“That’s understandable. I had a positive call with my contact yesterday. We’re looking at a release date of the twelfth of December. In less than six months, Katie, all going to plan, your book will be on sale.”
A goofy smile splits my face. Pride blooms. I’m going to be a published author. Someone chose to support my work.
“Do you have any questions?” Celia asks. “Anything you’re unsure of?”
I laugh. “Everything, if I’m being honest.” Heat explodes on my neck and chest, and I flinch in the mirror opposite. “I mean… this all feels so new. I’m not sure what to expect.”
She replies with a kind smile. “Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll talk you through the next few months.”
One hour later, as I walk out into brilliant sunshine, Amy is waiting for me, and I can’t hide the beam on my face.
“Tell me it went well without telling me it went well,” she says with a giggle. “I only have to look at you to know you had a successful meeting.”
“Sure did,” I yell, and the people around us give us a sideways glance. “Come on, we’re celebrating.” Before she can speak, I drag her off down the street to the nearest cocktail bar.
“Well, Katie Clark.” Amy is in full flow after way too many porn-star martinis. “So, when a Hollywood A-lister is appearing in the film adaptations, I’m attending the premiere with you. We’re having a Jamie Dornan sandwich. No arguments. He’s in the middle, just to clarify.”
We spiral into ridiculous fantasies of buying private jets, red carpet events, and holiday villas in Marbella. According to my wonderful friend, not only will I be successful, but I’ll be the most popular author of all time. Step out of my way, E.L. James. Katie Clark has arrived.
Our night is full of fun and hilarity. We sink gratefully into the escapism of what’s to come. The unknown future ahead gives us both hope that maybe—just maybe—things can finally start to go right.