5. Chapter Five #2
I take a deep breath and stand up straighter, smoothing my dress with shaky hands. And as the applause dies down and Margaux steps away from the podium, I walk across the ballroom toward them, my heart racing but my steps steady.
It's time they all heard from the real creative force behind Locke women like us getting pushed aside, our work taken by people who have no right to it."
I blink at her, surprised by her candor. "So why stop me?" I ask, my voice still trembling with emotion.
"You see this?" She gestures back toward the ballroom. "This is exactly what they want you to do: make a scene, look like an emotional wreck while they stand there looking professional and in control. You think anyone will remember what you said up there?"
"Yes! I—"
She cuts me off with a shake of her head. "No, honey. All they'll remember is you losing your shit in front of everyone. All they'll see is some hysterical woman causing a scene. That's all anyone will be talking about tomorrow."
I stare at her, anger still bubbling beneath my skin. But there's truth in her words. I can't deny that.
"W-what, then?" I demand, crossing my arms over my chest. "I just let them walk all over me?"
"No." She smiles weakly. "You don't let anyone walk all over you. But you pick your battles, and you make damn sure you win them."
I narrow my eyes at her. "How?"
Diane reaches into her pocket and pulls out a card, handing it to me. I look down at it, confused by what I see.
It's a simple white card with just a phone number on it.
"Call that number," she says quietly. "Tomorrow morning."
I look back up at her, not understanding. "I don't get it. Who is it?"
She shakes her head. "Doesn't matter. Just make the call. They'll help you."
"Help me do what?" I ask, frustrated by her vagueness.
Diane takes a step closer, lowering her voice even more. "They'll help you get what's yours," she says. "Not just here at Locke not sure I can put on a brave face and act like nothing's wrong.
But then she smiles at me, and for some reason, I believe her.
Diane has been a bit more of a friend to me in the last few years as we've worked more and more together.
Women like her know more about this industry that I ever will.
So I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and say, "Okay.
" My voice is still shaky. I look down at the card. "Tomorrow, then?"
"Tomorrow." She opens the door for me, and as I step back into the hallway, I can feel her eyes on me as I walk away.
When I reenter the ballroom, everything is just as it was before: the music playing softly in the background, people chatting and laughing, glasses clinking together. It feels surreal, like nothing has changed, even though everything has.
Before I can reorient myself, I feel a hand on my arm and turn to find Harrison standing next to me, looking concerned.
"Where have you been?" he asks quietly, scanning the crowd as if searching for some threat.
"I just needed some air," I reply, my voice steadier than before. I smile at him, trying to act normal. "It was getting a little warm in here."
He nods, seeming to accept my explanation without question. I don't think he even noticed my momentary absence from the room.
He glances down at my hand, where I've unconsciously hidden the card Diane gave me. I quickly slip it into my clutch before he can see what it is.
"Well," he says, turning back to face the room, "I think tonight went really well, don't you?"
I follow his gaze and see Margaux across the ballroom, surrounded by adoring fans: authors, agents, and editors alike, all hanging on her every word as she laughs and charms them all.
"I think it went pretty well," I say, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "For her."