Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Here we go again, Blaise thought. But after yesterday’s video call, she felt more confident going into this one. More confident and less nervous. She was practically a pro at this now.
She set her laptop on the kitchen table and adjusted the angle by a fraction, then again, just so the light was good and there was no glare on the screen. Outfit-wise, she was wearing the exact same thing she’d had on yesterday. Why not? It was comfortable and it had done the job.
Beau wandered by on his way to his bed, where the first sunbeam of the day was already warming his spot.
She smoothed the collar of her top, took a sip of water, and glanced at her list of questions that were also from yesterday. She had a pen at the ready. She logged in through the link the publisher had provided and sat waiting.
When the call connected, an older woman appeared on the screen, impeccably styled with thick, black-framed glasses. She was seated in what looked like a glass-walled office with a city skyline behind her. A few awards lined a shelf on one side. Blaise didn’t recognize any of them.
“Blaise, hi, there you are. I’m so glad we could connect,” the editor said, smiling wide and professional. “I’ve been looking forward to this. I’m Denise.”
“Nice to meet you, Denise,” Blaise replied. This was the woman she’d emailed with.
They exchanged the usual pleasantries. How are you, how’s the weather, how much everyone appreciated the proposal. The editor leaned forward slightly, enthusiasm dialed just a notch higher than felt real. At least to Blaise.
She’d seen that kind of overexaggerated interest before, but it had been a while. The last time, it had come from a new designer trying to get Blaise to walk in his show for half her usual fee.
“I’ll get right to it,” Denise said. “We think there’s a real opportunity here.”
Blaise nodded, listening. “That’s great.”
“What you’ve lived through,” the editor continued. “Not just your marriage and the public aspects of that, but the loss of Jay and the unfortunate incident that followed, that aftermath—there’s a hunger for that kind of honesty right now. Readers want the truth. The unfiltered version.”
Blaise felt the first prickle of discomfort, subtle but unmistakable. She hadn’t filtered anything. If she had, the writing would have been a lot easier.
“We see this book as not just a memoir but also as a cultural moment. A sort of snapshot of the late ’80s and early ’90s.
A slice of that whole scene,” the editor said.
“For us, this is a book that doesn’t just tell your story, but names names.
Explores the betrayals. The fallout. The parts people usually keep quiet. ”
Blaise kept her expression neutral, but inside, all kinds of red flags had just started waving. “That’s not really the direction I’m interested in.”
The editor brushed that off gently, as if Blaise had simply misunderstood. “Of course, of course. I’m not talking about being unkind. I’m taking about gritty honesty. About making a real impact. The kind of visibility this could bring...” She shook her head and smiled. “This could be very big.”
“I’m not interested in a tell-all,” Blaise said, more firmly now. “That’s not what I’m writing.”
The editor paused, studying her. “But you do understand that your name is part of the appeal. It’s the hook this whole thing hangs on.”
“I do,” Blaise said. “It’s not the point, though.”
“People will have a certain expectation going in.”
“I’m sure that could be managed in the way the book is marketed, though.” Blaise knew better. They wanted scandals and rumors, not a cautionary tale. Not a real-life love story. Not the truth about how hard it was for a woman of her age to get a second chance.
“We wouldn’t be doing our job if we didn’t explore how far the book could go,” the editor said. “Controversy drives interest. And interest drives sales.”
Blaise felt her entire body tighten. This was not what she wanted. She glanced briefly at her notes, then back at the screen.
“I think we may be looking for different things,” she said. “And that’s okay. I just don’t want to waste your time.”
She reached toward the laptop, prepared to end the call politely.
“Before you go,” Denise said quickly. “Let’s talk numbers.”
Blaise stopped.
The editor smiled again, this time with a different energy. Calculated. Confident. “We’re prepared to make a strong offer. A really significant advance. Wide distribution is a given, as is a serious amount of publicity support.”
Blaise leaned back in her chair, hands folding loosely in her lap. Money mattered. She wasn’t naive about that. But she also knew the cost of taking it from the wrong place.
“What kind of advance?” she asked.
The editor named a number. It was bigger than what Karey had talked about. Enough to make Blaise’s breath hitch, just slightly.
She did her best to stay cool. “And marketing? Do you have a plan for that?”
“Definitely. It’ll be national,” the editor said. “Morning shows. Features in a few magazines. Ads with a few streaming services. A big social media push. We’re even considering a late-night talk show. We know how to get attention.”
Blaise bet they did. She nodded slowly. “And creative control?”
The editor hesitated. Just a beat too long. “We’d collaborate closely.”
That was answer enough. They wanted control. That’s what it sounded like to her. “And what rights would you hold?”
“With the magnitude of this deal, we would retain all rights. I’m sure you understand. This would be a significant investment on our end.”
“Of course. And I appreciate your transparency,” Blaise said. “I really do. But I’m not willing to trade my privacy or my integrity for exposure. The story you want isn’t the one I’m telling. Meaningful money doesn’t change that.”
The editor’s smile tightened. “You might find other offers less…robust.”
“That might be,” Blaise said calmly. “But when this is all said and done, I still have to be able to live with myself.”
There was a pause, the air between them suddenly cooler.
“Well,” the editor said. “If you change your mind—”
“I won’t,” Blaise said. Not unkindly. Just clearly. “I appreciate your time and your honesty.”
They ended the call a moment later.
Blaise closed her laptop and sat there, the house quiet except for Beau’s soft snoring. Her heart was still beating a little fast, but there was no regret in it.
She hadn’t come this far to sell herself short. Not again. She picked up her phone and called Cece, needing to hear a familiar voice and say a few things out loud while they were still clear in her mind.
Cece answered on the third ring. “Hey. Perfect timing. I just finished setting things up.”
“How are you feeling?” Blaise asked. It was always her first question now.
“Tired, but okay,” Cece said. “Joe should be here any minute. We’re recording his interview today.”
“That’s fantastic,” Blaise said.
“It is,” Cece agreed. “What’s going on with you? Did you have the second call already?”
“I did. And the second publisher is…not what I’d hoped for,” Blaise said, moving to the couch and sitting down. “I suppose it was bound to happen.”
Cece made a soft noise. “Tell me everything.”
“In a nutshell, they want a tell-all,” Blaise said.
“They’re interested in my name and who I know.
Or knew. They want the messy parts, the public parts, but especially the private parts.
The editor, Denise, kept circling back to controversy.
To how much attention it would get if I were willing to be…
explicit.” She rolled her eyes. “The woman was practically salivating.”
Cece snorted. “Let me guess—she wanted you to name names and share details. No drama spared.”
“Exactly,” Blaise said. “I told her that’s not what I’m writing. I tried to end the call, and that’s when she started talking money.”
“Oh, boy,” Cece said. “And?”
“And it was a lot,” Blaise said honestly. “Enough to make me pause. But not enough to make me forget why I’m doing this in the first place. I’m selling a memoir, not my soul.”
Cece was quiet for a moment. “I’m proud of you. I mean that. I know you’re in a place where money is important. But you still did the right thing. Well done.”
“Thank you,” Blaise said. “I needed to hear that from someone who understands my motivation.”
“I understand it very well,” Cece said. “I also know from my own experience that sometimes the offer is generous because the personal cost is high.”
“That’s exactly what it felt like,” Blaise said. “Like I’d be paying for it later, in ways that wouldn’t show up on a contract.”
“You made the right call,” Cece said. “The first publisher was much closer to what you need. This one? Not so much.”
Blaise nodded, even though Cece couldn’t see her. “That’s how it felt for me, too.”
There was a sound in the background.
“I think Joe just pulled in,” Cece said. “He’s early. Which doesn’t surprise me.”
“Me either,” Blaise said, smiling. “How are you feeling about the interview?”
“Nervous, because it’s him,” Cece admitted. “But it’ll be fine. We know each well enough to be comfortable once we get going. And he’s a great storyteller.”
“That’s exactly what you want for the second episode,” Blaise said. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Me, too,” Cece said with a little laugh. “And Blaise? I’m really glad you called.”
“Thanks,” Blaise said. “I’ll let you go. Knock ’em dead.”
“I’ll talk to you after,” Cece said. “But listen, you’re doing this the right way. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”
Blaise smiled as the call ended.