Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
I roll up to my desk, two coffees in hand: one for me, and one for Hank, figuring that it might be useful to get on his good side for whatever he wants to talk to me about. Maybe I won’t get fired?
I sit down and start getting myself settled, hoping taking a minute for self-organization might settle my nerves. I take the copies of my comics out of my bag, open my drawer and pop them in. I figured I’d give Cal’s suggestion a try.
I’m just switching my laptop on for the day when I’m suddenly aware of a shadow looming over me. I look over my shoulder to see Hank hovering there.
“Mr Wolowitz!” I yelp, leaping to my feet. I’m pretty much the same height as Hank, maybe a hair taller, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel completely intimidated, as he’s in my space forcing me to lean back against my desk. And his broader stature makes him more imposing than I could ever hope to be.
“Mr Abelman,” he says, looking me dead in the eye and wearing a lopsided smile. “Just the man I wanted. And please, again, it’s Hank.”
“H-Hank,” I nod. “Oh!”
I spin around, bending slightly to get his coffee, and in the process accidentally put my butt against his crotch. I gasp, spinning back around to face him and find him with a cocked eyebrow as I hold the coffee cup in my hand.
“I grabbed this for you, Mr — Hank,” I manage to stutter out.
He takes the cup, and takes a sip, eyes never leaving mine until he swallows, and turns his attention to the cup. “Huh, that’s?—”
“Your order, yes, sir. Black Colombian blend coffee, with a pump of hazelnut syrup. I’ve been getting them enough that I kind of just remember it by heart now,” I try a weak smile.
Hank just looks me over, as if assessing me. Then he takes another sip, and smiles.
“Very good, Jesse. Very good,” finally, he takes a small step back, giving me more space, as he folds his arms in front of himself, cup held up in one hand. “Look, I know that the work you’ve done helping us secure Wilson for the book is kind of above and beyond your role as an intern, but you’ve been really delivering. I wanted to say I’m proud of you, kid.”
Oh. “Oh!” I flounder, this isn’t what I was expecting. “Um, thank you, s—Hank. Really, it’s no problem. I’ve enjoyed it.”
“I’m glad to hear that, as I’d like you to continue on as our liaison with Wilson. You two have an existing relationship, and it would be foolish not to take advantage of that. So I want you to woo him, and make sure he comes aboard fully.”
“Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem. He’s really excited to take part as far as I can tell,” Hank squints at me. “But, err, of course, I’m happy to help. But I thought we were already sending him a contract today? Anna was going to give me the right wording to send…”
“We will be. But sometimes creators can say one thing and then seem a little reticent to jump right in and sign on the dotted line. So we might need someone he knows to…massage him into it,” he takes a sip of his coffee and I swear he shoots me a wry glance. The choice of wording sends a tense feeling running through me.
“Well, I can be good at massage,” I say, alarms immediately tripping in my head. Why did I say that ?!
Hank cocks an eyebrow. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” he says, flatly. His glance drops down to my side, “What are these?”
I look down and realize I left the drawer open. “Oh! Oh, those are my comics, err, that is to say, these are the comics that I made. That I wrote.”
Hank leans past me and picks the small stack up, before inclining his head to me. “You’re a writer too, right?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes. It’s actually what I really want to do in the comics industry. Not that there’s anything wrong with editing, but writing is my passion. I kind of took on this role to try and get a feeling for how the industry works, not so much to become an editor myself, but learning some editing skills would be useful too, of course, but really I’m all about the writing, and—” Hank looks from the covers up to me again, eyes turning up and looking at me from under his brow. “I’m rambling. Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”
Hank straightens up. “Why? Do I make you nervous?” He practically purrs the last part out at me, and I can’t help but be struck by, in a different situation, in a different world, Hank would be making me nervous for wholly other reasons.
“No. I mean, yes. I mean?—”
He laughs unexpectedly. “Relax, kid. Mind if I take these?” He holds up the comics, and I nod, dumbly.
He turns and walks off towards his corner office. “Get Wilson to sign, Jesse. He’s coming into town at the end of the week, a good week before NYCC starts, so we’re down to the wire, kiddo. Make it happen,” he calls back.
Part of me can’t help but feel there’s an implied threat in there, but if that was the case, would he be shouting it across the office? I mean, we’re still not full, but others are here, looking up from their desk and looking at what’s going on. In fact, Anna is stood in the doorway of her office, leaning against the frame and staring at me, arms folded.
As our eyes meet, it feels like a conversation passes between us silently. A conversation of muted congratulation…and quiet warning.