Chapter 32 MARCEL
Chapter 32
M ARCEL
“Can you explain this, please?” Alex demanded from the other end of the phone line.
“You know what it means,” answered Marcel. The glare of his computer screen reflected in his glasses. “Surely you don’t have trouble with reading comprehension. If so, might I suggest a change of profession?”
“Ha, ha, ha. And I thought you’d chilled out a bit in Louisiana. I see you’re still just as much of an asshole.”
“An ill weed grows apace, as they say.”
Alex sighed heavily.
“Okay. Look, it’s too early in the morning to keep up with you. All I want to know is why you emailed Bob Gunton, copying me in, asking him to reverse the percentage of royalties for Two Ways . Do you really want Siobhan to take 10 percent and leave you with 2 percent, or did you undergo some kind of voodoo ritual in New Orleans?”
“No voodoo. I would simply rather she keep the bigger slice of the cake, that’s all.”
“Yes, but why ? And why now? As I recall, when you signed the contract, you were very specific. ‘It’s my reputation on the line, so I demand the higher percentage of royalties.’ Those were your literal words. I’m not making it up.”
Marcel’s gaze wandered to the other side of the desk, unbearably empty for the last three days, three interminable days and nights, and he was besieged by a feeling of sadness.
“I changed my mind.”
“You changed your mind,” repeated Alex, dubious. “Very well. All right.”
“Hey, if it’s your earnings you’re worried about ...”
“What the hell do you take me for? A Wall Street broker? You’re talking to me, Alex, your friend. The only one you have, if I’m not mistaken. And if you suggest something like that again, I’ll revoke all your friendship rights. I don’t give a damn how much I earn with this book. I just want to be sure you know what you’re doing.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Fine. In that case, I’ll tell Legal to draw up a new contract for you and Siobhan to sign.”
“No,” replied Marcel, unequivocally.
“No?”
“Leave Siobhan out of this. She can’t know. If she finds out, she won’t accept; I know her too well. She tends to confuse pride and obstinacy with empowerment.”
“So how are we going to do it, then? Forge her signature?”
“How the hell should I know!” he shouted. “Why don’t you do your goddamn job and think of something?”
An irritated sigh filled the telephone line.
“What on earth is going on with you? Why are you treating me like your frickin’ assistant? Am I to blame for whatever’s bothering you?”
Marcel squeezed his eyes shut. He took a deep breath and then released it very slowly.
“I’m sorry. I went too far.”
“Are you going to tell me what this is all about? What’s really going on, Marcel?”
What was going on was that he was struggling to concentrate.
The walls were closing in on him without her there.
He missed her so much it took his breath away.
He was listening to that lousy song they had danced to together at the Blue Nile on repeat because those days in New Orleans had been the happiest of his life.
He couldn’t stop wondering whether he had done the right thing in letting her go.
He hated that the answer to that question might be yes.
Because he didn’t want to hurt her.
But he couldn’t bear to lose her.
“I’ve screwed up big-time. That’s what’s going on,” he finally admitted.
“With Siobhan?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, what have you done this time?” he asked, in the tone of a parent who has run out of patience with their kid’s hijinks. “Have you been criticizing her writing again? I hope the novel isn’t at risk because of your bullshit,” he warned. “I mean it.”
“There’s no problem with the novel, so breathe easy. And you’ll be happy to hear that I have no reason to criticize her writing style. Siobhan has evolved a lot as a writer. Sooner or later, she’ll find her own voice, I’m sure of that. She’s good. And she has that fire that makes this vocation worth the effort.”
“So, what happened?”
Silence.
A very eloquent silence.
“You’re shitting me. You slept with her?”
Another silence.
“You slept with her!” exclaimed Alex. “I knew it! You slept with her, and then you got scared, and now you feel like a bastard, and you’re looking for any way to assuage your terrible guilt.”
“I don’t know if you’re aware how incredibly twisted your theory sounds.”
“Like hell. I noticed you felt something for her on your birthday. And when you took her to New Orleans, it only confirmed my suspicions.”
“That was no big deal, Sherlock. You came with me once too.”
“The difference being that I had to stay in the Dauphine.”
“Different circumstances, man. My father was still at home back then. And why are you talking as though we were away on vacation? We were writing, you know.”
“Oh yeah, sure.” Marcel heard his agent snigger. “I bet you were nonstop while you were there.”
Marcel hesitated before saying:
“The truth is it was a very ...” He blinked several times as he searched for the right word. “Intense trip. For both of us. And not for the reason you’re thinking. Nothing happened while we were there.”
“It doesn’t matter where, but what. You slept with her, and then you got scared, and now you feel like the bastard you are. Admit it. It’s the first step to redemption, my friend.”
“I didn’t get scared, all right? But she wants something I can’t give her. End of story,” he said definitively and placed his hand on his chest as though suffering the pain of his own words. “And for your information, I didn’t decide to reverse the royalties because I feel guilty. It’s just that ... Siobhan is the soul of this novel. She deserves all the recognition. She deserves to ... shine.”
“Man, sounds like you’re hopelessly in love with this girl.”
Marcel noticed a sudden scratch in his throat.
No, that wasn’t it.
Not at all.
He couldn’t fall in love.
“Alex.”
“What?”
“Take care of the contract, will you?” he said.
And he hung up.