12. Casey
CASEY
“You need Trina.” Ryan looks pointedly at me over his glasses from where he sits on the other side of my desk.
I cough into my hand, trying to hide my surprise.
I had just finished telling him about the first ten chapters of Imani’s manuscript—a fantastic start to what I believe will be a gripping series, perfect for young readers.
I read it on the plane ride home, then again after lunch with my brother.
I try not to work on Sundays, but I emailed her for the rest of the manuscript and spent the night poring over those pages as well.
Like she said, she’s still working on the ending, but I have some ideas depending on where she wants the rest of the series to go.
“What I need are details,” I try to course correct. “I know Imani is planning a series, but I need an outline. Number of books, overarching plot and themes, character arcs—”
“That’s true, but you also need Trina,” he says again, more forcefully this time. “Or, rather, Imani needs Trina.”
“You of all people should know that I can sign her without an agent.”
Ryan shakes his head. “And you of all people should know that just because you can doesn’t mean you should. She’s good, right?”
“Really good.”
“Bestseller good?”
“Potentially.”
Ryan scoffs at that. “You’ve got an eye for this, and you have the marketing power to make it so. That’s why Anastasios offered you this role. If you think she’s going to be a bestseller, she’ll be a bestseller.”
There’s a little bit of luck involved, but for the most part he’s right, and I know where he’s going. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“Trina has the experience you’re looking for,” Ryan continues. “Hell, she started her career with Scarlett and dealt with whatever that mess was pretty flawlessly.”
“Flawlessly is a strong word.” After that whole pen name debacle, she had a few very unprofessional words to say to me in private.
All I could see the whole time she was flailing her hands and trying to keep her voice down while practically yelling at me was the gorgeous way her cheeks flushed and the fire flashing in her eyes.
And then we did a few things that were also very unprofessional.
So, no. Flawlessly is not the word I’d use to describe her handling of the situation. Her handling of me, on the other hand—
“It takes a good agent with a lot of experience to manage lead titles.” Ryan thankfully stops that train of thought before it can leave the station.
“It’s not just money—it’s everything that comes before and after release.
Scheduling, promotion, interviews… If you want to set this author up for long-term success, she’s going to need a good agent. ”
I do want Imani to have long-term success, whether she signs with me or not. Especially as a Black writer—and a young one at that.
“I know.” I’m trying not to sound annoyed, but it’s not working. I clear my throat and try again. “Last I checked, Trina isn’t taking YA.”
That was one of the main facts playing through my head as she sat pressed against me through the keynote speaker on Saturday.
I liked her there. I more than liked her there, and me moving into this new role and her not having anything to do with young adult manuscripts felt like a way we could maybe build something beyond the physical.
Then again, I’m not even sure how you go about that. How do you date someone you’ve seen naked? Take them out to dinner? Go to the movies? Pretend you haven’t been buried inside her as you play a board game?
“Agents expand their genres all the time,” Ryan says as if it’s no big deal. And it probably isn’t. I just don’t want to ask her, and thanks to his meddling, I am running out of reasons why.
Actually, that’s not true. There’s just one reason why. And it has something to do with the way my heart starts beating faster every time she’s around.
“And besides,” he continues, “what’s the difference if it’s literary fiction or young adult if she’s pitching exclusively to you? The point is to make sure Imani has someone in her corner when things get tough.” He smirks. “And to keep you in line.”
I press my lips together and try desperately not to let my mind wander to all the ways she could keep me in line.
“I’ll think about it.”
Ryan narrows his gaze, eyeing me skeptically.
He shoves himself forward in his chair and stands.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “Not going to lie, it’s a little weird that you’re so resistant to this.
It’s not like you’ve never worked with her before.
You used to work with her all the time.” He tilts his head, his expression turning thoughtful.
“Surely the thing with Scarlett didn’t piss her off enough that she stopped submitting to you? ”
“No.” I shake my head quickly. “I mean, she was angry about it, but nothing has lined up for us for a while.”
“Right.” He doesn’t sound entirely convinced, but he turns toward the door anyway. “I’ll leave you to it then. But don’t sign her without an agent. Get someone in her corner.”
I give him a sarcastic salute, and he chuckles on his way into the hallway. He shuts the door behind him, and I stare at the phone on my desk for an embarrassing amount of time.
I can call her, right? Arguably, I should. She told me she wanted to see me again, and even if she meant just for sex, at least that’s something. And this doesn’t have anything to do with sex at all. This is work. A work call is fine. It’s normal. No big deal.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I start the call on speaker and punch in her number. It rings enough times that I think she won’t answer, but then she does.
“Hello?”
“Trina, it’s Casey.”
“Casey? Oh, I…” A scraping sound comes through the speaker as if she’s shifting the phone to her other ear. “Huh. I guess I didn’t see the name.”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t have answered if you knew it was me?” I try to infuse some humor into my voice, but the thought this might be true sends a pang of sadness through me. It’s so unexpected, I almost don’t hear what she says next.
“No, but I would have said something a lot cooler when I answered,” she jokes, but it’s a little flat.
“Are you okay? Is this a bad time?”
She pauses, then inhales deeply. “No. I mean yes. I’m fine, this is fine. I’m just a little distracted. What’s up?”
Well, this is going great. I should hang up and let her call me back when it’s convenient for her, but then I might lose my nerve.
“I have something I want to run by you. Can you stop by the office?”
She laughs, but that sounds flat too. It’s almost enough for me to be concerned, but she says, “I’m not going to fuck you in your office, Casey.”
Even though the door is closed, I scramble to pull the phone off the receiver and press it to my ear. “Dammit, Trina. You were on speaker.”
“Well, I’m not.” She sounds completely unbothered. “Who heard me?”
“No one. I’m alone.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
I should be worried about combining work and pleasure, about sleeping with someone I could end up working with. Who I want to work with. Ryan was right—Trina is the best in the business, and getting her to work with Imani would be a huge win for the author and, ultimately, for me.
But even though this should all concern me, now that I have Trina on the phone and I’ve heard her voice, I can’t bring myself to care. All I can think about is when I’ll get to see her again, and working with her would mean seeing her a lot more often.
“Can you come to the office?” I ask again, my voice lower, huskier. Almost needy, though I hope she can’t hear that through the phone.
Trina is quiet for a lingering moment, but I don’t dare interrupt her thoughts. She’s always liked to come to decisions in her own time. Showing even a little pressure or impatience makes her skittish.
“Is it a good idea to work together?” The question is tentative, her voice sounding far away and so unlike her, I’d think she handed the phone to someone else if I didn’t know any better.
“Is it a bad idea to work together?” I counter. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”
She huffs a humorless laugh. “It wasn’t a good idea before, either.”
“Nothing is set in stone.” There’s a softness to my tone that I’ve used a few other times, when I’ve sensed her uncertainty. “I have an opportunity I want to run by you first, is all.”
“You can’t tell me over the phone?” She still sounds meek and nervous. I can picture her biting her nails as we talk, and I want to take her hand in mine again to run my thumb back and forth across her wrist.
“I’d rather see you.” I can give her this small piece of honesty.
The full truth is that I’m almost desperate to see her, especially after hearing how weary she sounds through this whole conversation.
I want to see her and know she’s okay, soothe away any worry she might have, press against her and help her clear her head for a time.
“Okay,” she finally agrees. Stronger now, more sure. “I can be there in an hour.”
“Perfect.”
“For a second, I thought you might call me a good girl.” Her bright, humorous tone is back now. Whatever was bothering her has been shoved down to the dark recesses of her brain, leaving the smart, capable, confident side of her showing.
“Do you want me to call you a good girl?” I can’t help asking.
“Maybe later.” Her voice sounds like a smile, like sunshine after the rain, and the sound goes straight to my dick. “See you soon, Casey.”
“Looking forward to it,” I say before hanging up.
If only she knew how much.