11. Trina #2
Sure enough, two of the authors I requested manuscripts from have already sent them to me. After emailing the other agents, I download those to give myself something to read on the plane tomorrow.
Just as I’m about to close my computer and pack up, a text lights up my phone.
Isabella: Why can’t you pitch this manuscript yourself?
Me: Weird of you to be looking at work emails on the weekend.
Isabella: I don’t count your emails as work. Don’t avoid the question.
Me: I’m touched. And, as I said in my email, I don’t do YA.
The three dots bounce at the bottom of the screen as an announcement comes over the library’s PA system to let everyone know the building will be closing in fifteen minutes. I slide my laptop back into my bag and am walking back toward the stairs when Isabella’s next text comes in.
Isabella: You could start doing YA. You used to pitch to Casey Endersen all the time.
My heart jumps up into my throat at even a casual mention of Casey’s name. What does he have to do with this?
Instead of texting her back, I quickly use an app to order a rideshare back to the hotel, then I call her as I make my way outside. She answers on the first ring.
“Oh, a phone call. I feel special.”
“Why would Casey be interested in YA?” I try to sound as cool and casual as I can, but I’m out of breath from walking as fast as I could to get outside.
Isabella lets out a low laugh that almost sounds evil. “You haven’t heard, then?”
“Haven’t heard what?”
“That he’s heading up JMP’s new young adult imprint, Starlight.”
“Starlight?” I mentally sort through the files in the back of my brain. The name sort of rings a bell. “You mean the publisher that was two seconds from going under like…a year ago?”
“Not anymore, apparently.” Isabella chuckles again. “JMP bought it. Asked Anastasios to help get it back off the ground. Their offices are merging, even. Girl, with as much work as you do with them, I am shocked you haven’t heard this.”
“I’ve been busy,” I say simply, biting at a piece of skin on my lip.
More like I haven’t done anything with them since Scarlett has been on a break.
And then I avoided them. And now I’m distracted, traveling, and doing certain things with certain editors I apparently should have absolutely not done.
“So Casey is…” I wait for her to fill in the blank.
“You really should read your email. Suzanna sent something out about it the other day. Well, it was buried in an update. Probably the fifteenth bullet point down.”
That makes sense why I didn’t see it. I never do more than skim her updates, especially if they’re about something that doesn’t apply to me. Like young adult publishers.
“He’s been promoted,” she finally says. “It looks like a good deal for him, too. He’s the new editorial director at Starlight, and they’re open to submissions as we speak.”
There are a lot of things that zip through my head when she tells me, but the loudest is, Why the fuck didn’t he tell me?
And then, When was he going to do that? In between watching you touch yourself and slapping your ass?
Fuck me. Despite all this, the memory alone has me wanting him to do it again.
“Are you there?” Isabella snaps me out of my thoughts. “Did you get cut off?”
“No, I’m here. I had no idea.” I chew on my lip again. “But…I’m still not interested in young adult titles.” I am interested in this young adult title, and I do apparently have a connection with someone who might also want to take a look—
Oh, shit. Is that why Imani was so upset? Did she see me talking to Casey and think I lied? Well, if that’s the case, there’s no way I can represent her now. She’ll never trust me.
“I’m not going to look at it until you take at least a week to think about it,” Isabella says. “And you shouldn’t let anyone else have it in that time either. Seriously, consider it. It would make Suzanna happy, and I could tell from your email that you thought it was really good.”
It is really good. Better than good. Imani’s book could easily be a lead title for Casey and a huge deal for me. But that doesn’t change anything that happened this weekend. It can’t.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to take on a different genre,” I say distractedly.
“Okay, I can tell you’re chewing on something in that brain of yours, so I’m going to let you go. Promise me you’ll think about it. There’s no harm in that.”
“Fine.” I’m lying, but I need to get her off the phone so I can start processing the things she’s told me.
“Good. Have a safe flight home tomorrow. Call me when you land?”
“Sure,” I say before hanging up. And immediately when I do, another call comes in, this time from my aunt.
“Oh, fuck no,” I mutter to myself as I shove my phone into my bag without answering.
Now that I know what she wants, she can wait until I’m back in Chicago, in the comfort of my own home.
Not that I know what I’m going to say to her.
I’m no closer to deciding what to do about my mom than I was yesterday.
Rubbing my temples as I wait for my ride, I groan internally. This weekend gave me a lot more than I bargained for.
And yet somehow, above all, I wish Casey were here to help me forget it all for a little while.