Chapter 2 #2
Instead of matching her excited energy my heart sank and I took a steadying breath. In Patricia-speak, fantastic news often meant publisher demands, expectations, and a flurry of publicity.
We’d had similar conversations so many times since I signed with her, and every time it ended with me shutting it down. One would think she’d get the message and give up.
And yet…
“The last pages you sent through for the new book are a hit,” she continued, her enthusiasm palpable even through the phone. “The publishers are over the moon, and we’re putting together a social media storm that’s going to make the fans go wild.”
I managed a weak smile, my anxiety spiking with each word of praise aimed at me. The success of my young adult fantasy series was a double-edged sword. It brought me the financial stability that allowed me to have the life I wanted, but it also brought a spotlight I was loath to step into.
“Thank you, Patricia,” I replied, my voice trembling ever so slightly. “I’m really glad they liked it.”
There was a pause, and I steeled myself against what was coming. It was a pause I knew well, and I could hear Patricia’s hesitation. This was going to go one way, but she wouldn’t be doing her job if she didn’t at least try.
“Here’s the thing.” She sighed, her tone taking on a more businesslike edge. “With the buzz building up like this, the publishers are itching to ride the wave. It’s the last book in the series, and they want to send it off with a bang.”
“A bang…” I clutched my phone so tightly to my ear, the plastic cover creaked.
“Press tour, public promotions… It’s a great idea, Wyatt.” She spoke with tired firmness, like a mother disciplining her problem child for the hundredth time. “If we play this right, we’ll spark interest in your back catalogue and spike sales in the first few books again.”
My heart raced, and I felt a familiar knot tighten in my chest. It was a battle I’d fought before, a battle of words and expectations that I wasn’t eager to revisit.
“Patricia,” I said, working hard to keep my tone firm without betraying the underlying fear rising up. “We’ve been through this. I won’t be doing any press or public promos. I had you work it into my contract for a reason.”
I could practically hear Patricia’s thoughts whirring on the other end of the line. I wished she would drop it and let things be, but I knew better.
“Wyatt,” she finally replied. “You know how important this last book is. To your series, and your reputation as an author. It’s a big deal. I wouldn’t bring it to you like this if I didn’t believe in it.”
My hand trembled as I gripped the phone and I paced the cabin, a restless energy coursing through me. Patricia’s words echoed in my mind, but opening those doors also meant confronting certain things that I’d been fighting so hard to keep at bay.
“Wyatt, darling.” Her tone was coaxing, more patronizing than comforting. “I promise I’ll head up everything. Conditions will be controlled so that you’re only doing what you’re comfortable with. Nothing more.”
“That’s just it.” My jaw clenched painfully as I tried to keep my emotions under wraps. “I’m not comfortable with any of it. I told you that right from the start. When I joined your agency, I explained the particular terms that are non-negotiable, and-”
“Just… promise me you’ll think about it.” She cut me off. “Please, Wyatt. Just think about it. Okay?”
We’d been through years of this, and Patricia was yet to let me down. She fought all my battles on the ground, while I stayed in hiding up in the mountains.
With a heavy sigh I relented, my voice soaked in resignation. “I’ll think about it. But you should know that it’s probably not going to go your way.”
“Your best interest is my way, darling,” she replied without missing a beat.
I let out a shaky breath, my thoughts still swirling with anxiety. An excited yap from Michael Keaton broke through and I whirled around just in time to see him bounding toward the open cabin door.
“No, Michael Keaton!” I called out, stumbling after him.
But I might as well not have been there, for all it mattered. Michael Keaton leapt through the door and onto the porch, immediately crouching low, his tail wagging eagerly as he fixated on a rabbit at the end of the deck.
“Sorry, Patricia, give me a minute.”
I pulled on my coat and hurried out after him. “What do you say we leave the bunny to live another day, and get back inside, huh?”
He snorted, his belly brushing the snow-dusted wood as he inched toward his unsuspecting prey.
I loved him to death, but he wasn’t the brightest when it came to hunting.
What made it even more adorable was that he forgot his past failures and went at every new opportunity with unabashed resolve and eagerness.
The wind blustered through my hair, stripping every last shred of warmth that had worked its way into my bones after getting back from the store. I cursed under my breath, knowing it was my fault for leaving the door open in the first place.
Michael Keaton rose up on his haunches, the sign that he was about to make his move. The rabbit sat up straight, nose twitching as it looked around curiously. The movement seemed to distract my boy for a bit, and it gave me the perfect opening.
With a desperate lunge, I snatched him just in time, circling both arms around his body to drag him back inside. He looked up at me with his soulful brown eyes, tail still wagging ceaselessly as it beat against my leg.
“As much as I love our little outings,” I huffed, closing the door behind me with a sigh of relief, “I’d appreciate it if we keep any and all mad breaks for freedom to daylight, non-storm hours.”
He whined softly and walked over for a drink of water before settling back down in front of the fire. I gazed at the way the flames played on his golden coat, overcome with love for the guy who single-handedly saved my life every day.
“Wyatt?” Patricia’s muffled voice called out to me from my coat pocket.
I quickly fished my phone back out, feeling a resurgence of nerves. “Hi, sorry, Mr. Michael Keaton made a run for it, and-”
“Is everything okay?”
I glanced at him, already falling asleep in his favorite spot, and smiled softly. “Everything’s fine, thank you. And just on what we were talking about before-”
“I’m happy if you’ll think about it,” she said. “I don’t expect anything more than that. Have a great day, Wyatt. I’ll check in soon.”
No sooner had I ended the call with Patricia than my watch started beeping. Between the trip into town, my agent, and Michael Keaton’s shenanigans, time had really caught up with me.
I quickly went to settle at my writing desk in the corner and flipped open my laptop. The familiar chime signaled while I was still smoothing my hair, but I accepted the call anyway and my therapist’s face appeared on the screen.