29. Trina #2
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I insist. “I’m not sure what your issue with me is, but you’ve been after me since Scarlett announced she’s taking a break.”
“Also costing the agency money, I might add.”
My jaw drops. She’s really going to blame me for Scarlett getting pregnant and taking it easy to protect her health.
Funny, last I checked, I wasn’t the father of her baby.
Gaping and blinking in disbelief, I stare at the now-dark computer screen in front of me.
This is absurd. She’s going to convince herself her narrative is the right one at any cost. It feels so much like my last conversation with my aunt that bile starts to rise in my throat.
I might never have let Casey fully in, but he treated me like royalty.
He anticipated my needs. He tucked me close to him and made me feel like I belonged by his side.
I hadn’t ever felt that way before—not with Aunt Donna, and no matter how much I thought I had a work home with Suzanna, I’m starting to understand I never truly had that either.
I don’t want to work with an editor who plays dirty, and—I realize in a rush—I don’t want to work for someone who only cares about her bottom line.
I’m standing at the edge of a proverbial cliff. Isabella reminded me the other day that I’ve built myself a pair of wings, but they’re untested. If I leap, I might plummet to my death, leaving behind the one last piece of permanence in my life.
But I also might fly.
At the very least, there’s no one left in my life to disappoint but myself. And if I don’t do this, I will be disappointed.
“I quit,” I say quietly.
“You what?” Suzanna asks, her voice shaking with barely restrained anger.
“I quit.” The words are stronger this time. “I no longer wish to be an agent at Northbridge.”
Suzanna lets out a sharp laugh that lacks any humor. “Stupid girl,” she says. “Do you think you could honestly do better elsewhere?”
“I do.” Even if I don’t do financially better, I’ll feel better about it. And right now, it’d be nice to feel good about anything.
“I’ll remind you of your contract, Trina,” she says with more than a touch of warning. “You’ll continue to collect commissions on deals you’ve brokered, and so will I, through the life of the copyrights. However, your authors will be reassigned within the agency.”
This is where I’ve taken a true leap of faith. “I’m aware.”
Suzanna goes quiet, then sighs. “Fine. You’ll have the final paperwork by close of business.”
And with that, she hangs up.
It takes about three seconds for the full weight of what I just did to hit me. My phone drops out of my hand and onto the counter, and my hand flies to my mouth.
“Oh shit,” I breathe into my palm.
But it only takes three more seconds for me to start laughing. Fuck Suzanna and the broom she rode in on. She guided me through a lot when I first started, but she’s been a bitch for years.
I’m better off. Hopefully. At least I’ll still have commissions coming in to hold me over for a while.
And now, I have nothing to do but wait. Per my contract, I can’t contact any of my clients—I have to sit tight and see if they contact me.
The only editor I want to call is Casey, and if our phone call earlier was any indication, he won’t be too sad about having to work with someone else on the rest of Imani’s deal.
I wander around my apartment for a while, picking up books but unable to concentrate on them. I consider going to the library, but I can‘t seem to muster up the energy it would take to leave my apartment. Turns out, emotional instability is exhausting.
Eventually, I turn on the television and flip through the channels. I land on a baking show just as the bakers are pouring batter into their pans. These are Scarlett’s comfort shows, and since I don’t have anything better to do, I curl up with my head on the arm of the sofa to watch for a while.
By the time I’m three episodes deep and the new set of bakers starts piping icing onto their cakes, I’m mesmerized. “Huh,” I say to myself. “This is oddly satisfying to watch.” Scarlett might be onto something.
My phone rings from where I left it laying on the counter. I freeze again, but I’m able to shake it off quicker this time. I’m getting really sick of this fight-or-flight response to my phone ringing. I stomp over to it and snatch it up off the counter to answer it.
“I was just thinking about you,” I say to Scarlett on the other end of the line, careful to keep my tone bright and even. “I was watching a baking show.”
“So it took you being unemployed to finally admit they’re awesome.”
Slumping back onto the couch, I’m equal parts relieved I don’t have to pretend to be fine and devastated that this is really happening. “Damn, Suzanna doesn’t waste any time.”
“I think I was the first person she called. She mentioned everyone else was getting an email.”
“You should be honored.”
Scarlett snorts. “More like she realized how awkward it would be to call all of your authors and be forced to answer questions.”
“I’m not worth the effort,” I say sardonically.
“You are,” she insists quickly. “Suzanna never deserved you.”
My eyes sting as I shut the television off. “Thanks, Scarlett.”
“I don’t need to remind you that you believed in my first book. And every book after that, too. It would have been so easy for you to drop me after five years of silence, but you didn’t.”
“I never considered it,” I say quietly.
“I know.” She pauses. “You were the only person who was there for me when I came back. You’re not just my agent. You’re my friend. Your belief in me and my work bolstered me, empowered me to ask for what I needed. I’m still writing because of you…but more importantly, I’m happy because of you.”
Tears are streaming unbidden down my face. I sniffle, uselessly wiping some of the wetness off my cheeks. “I’m so glad.”
“I have no details about what happened, but I know you, and I know your job is important to you. So I’m going to ask, and I want an honest answer. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I answer automatically.
“Trina…”
“I am. I think. Suzanna has been insufferable for a while now, and I’m better off without her.”