Chapter 25
Maggie drops her suitcase and heads straight to Willa’s room when she gets back to LA.
So far none of the agents she emailed has written back.
Maybe they all see through what she’s doing, trying to dangle Ingrid’s interest and turn it into a quick offer.
Her face cringes. It had all seemed so fun and exciting over margaritas at the bar.
Now, in the sober, burning sun of LA, it makes her bite her nails to the quick.
She needs some of Willa’s positive affirmations.
But her roommate’s in the middle of a cam session when Maggie walks in.
“Oh my God, sorry,” Maggie says, turning to give Willa some privacy. Willa flashes her a smile as she reaches for her robe to cover up her bare chest.
“You’re back! I thought you weren’t getting in till tonight!” Willa says, tying her robe.
Some old guy with the screen name CrazyFunFrank barks from the screen, “Who’s she? She joining?”
“No!” Willa tells him. He looks about seventy, wearing a muscle tee that should be categorically off-limits to seventy-year-olds.
“We’re going to have to start all over, honey. I’m not paying for this interruption!” he barks.
“I can’t start all over. I have an audiobook audition after this!”
“Well, you’re going to have to cancel.”
Willa sighs, then nods reluctantly. “ ’Course, baby,” she says. “Don’t worry, I have all the time in the world for you.” She gives Maggie an apologetic look, and mouths, We’ll talk later!
Maggie feels terrible as she exits the room. Now her friend’s going to miss her audition because of her. There’s gotta be a way to make it up to her.
Once again, she thinks of her friend Tonya.
Contrary to what Ingrid thinks of Tonya, she really was an incredible human.
And whip-smart, too. In fact, Maggie even wrote about her life in her Williams admissions essay.
It was Tonya who taught her that she could make money in high school by helping rich people sell their used clothes.
It was Tonya who thought of the side hustle to help seniors in retirement homes buy gifts for their grandchildren since they can’t go anywhere.
Some of those hustles were more lucrative than others, but they were always trying to hit “the number.” Everyone had a number, according to Tonya.
For Tonya, it was $60,000. That was the amount it would take for her to quit turning tricks and do something else.
It doesn’t seem like a lot to Maggie now, living in LA, but at the time, it was huge.
Tonya believed with all her heart that if she ever got to $60,000, she’d stop.
She’d finally have enough to push through her fear of failure.
Maggie thinks of how much $300,000 would do for Willa and her acting.
It would change everything! She could afford the best acting coaches!
She could fly to auditions happening in New York!
She could do theater! Maggie taps open her phone and is about to search up Off-Broadway auditions when she sees an email from a literary agent:
Dear Maggie,
Thanks for sending me your novella WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS and letting me know about Ingrid Parker’s interest in optioning it!
How EXCITING! I think it’s an excellent idea to expand this into a novel.
I would love to hop on the phone with you and Ingrid next week to discuss the project, if you have time.
I’m already thinking of editors who would jump at the opportunity to work with you and Ingrid on this novel!
A bit about me: I’m an associate literary agent at TBG, working actively to build my list. I represent women’s fiction and am especially interested in book club fiction with wide commercial appeal (such as this one!). Please let me know your avails and congrats on your incredible work.
Sincerely,
Hannah Reid
Maggie rereads the email no less than eight times.
She’s boiling in her sweatshirt, sweat rolling down her back from the excitement that she’s finally done it!
A literary agent is interested in representing her!
At the same time, there’s no mention of her actual writing.
Nothing in the email about the plot or the characters or the atmospheric prose.
She always hoped that when she finally got the email, it would have enough lavish praise about her words to make up for all the cruel, curt rejections.
But aside from the word incredible, there’s nothing here. Just that Ingrid’s interest means a lot. They want to work with Ingrid, not her.
Then a new worry lodges: How the heck is she going to get on the phone with her and explain that Ingrid won’t be joining—she never exactly agreed to option her book, just said she might?