Richard, though, had his hands folded on the table in front of him as he waited for Nella to answer Amy’s question.
“I—no.” Had it always been this hot in this room? She began fanning herself with her hand distractedly. “I was just saying, your work is un-fucking-believable. This is going to make all those top-ten cover lists, Leonard. You really knocked it out of the park with this one.”
“He really did.” Vera cleared her throat, ready to move on. “Well, I’ll think this over some more. Len, can you send me the highest-res version of these covers that you’ve got when you have a moment? All of them, please.”
“Certainly.” Leonard’s feathers still seemed ruffled as he collected the sample covers, clipped them, and handed them off.
“Ver, let us know what Colin thinks. I can have Hilary send him sales figures for books that have covers with similar renderings on them, if you think it would ease his mind a little?”
“You know him so well,” Vera said, with a small smile.
“Oh, we all do,” Richard said. Everyone except for Nella chuckled knowingly. All was right with the world again.
“Alright, terrific. Great stuff, people!” Amy put on her glasses, adjourning the meeting. Everyone readily collected their things. A couple of feet away, Hazel was asking Vera how she and her husband were planning to celebrate Brenner’s fifth birthday.
Nella kept her gaze downward, pretending to write in her blank notebook. She wanted everyone to leave the room before she did, lest she have to awkwardly eavesdrop on Vera and Hazel’s discussion about the best places to buy cupcakes for dogs, or listen to Josh explain that BookCenter article in great detail. Plus, she’d always found something deeply soothing about sitting in the quiet of a meeting room after everybody had left, even if it was only for a moment.
After about thirty seconds, she felt ready to return to her desk and maybe even call building services to see if someone could come and fix the Keurig. But when she looked up, she realized Richard was still sitting at the head of the table, typing away on his cell phone.
“Oh,” Nella murmured, deeply embarrassed. “Sorry. I’ll just—”
She placed her palms on the table, preparing to hoist herself up and out. But before she could make a swift exit, Richard had placed his phone facedown and shifted his attention directly toward the space between her eyes. “No, I’m sorry. Please, have a seat, Nella. Do you have a few moments to chat? Yes? I was hoping we could discuss a few things, especially since we wrapped this meeting up so quickly.”
“Um…” Nella looked over at the door. Someone had closed it without her noticing. “Sure. I have plenty of time to chat.”
“Great!” Richard slipped his phone into the front pocket of his pants. “I just wanted to have a quick check-in. See how things are going.”
“Things are going pretty well,” she said, not sure what he meant by “things.” She searched her brain for something new to share. “You’ve probably heard this already, but we finally got Sam Lewis to agree to a cover. Big relief. Thanks for steering that ship. I know how he can be; his agent lets him get away with far too much.
“Oh, speaking of—I’m sure you’ve heard about this, but Darrin sent us a new project this morning that he’s positive is going to go fast. It’s about this tiny town in northern North Dakota that doesn’t believe in using—”
“That’s great. Listen, Nella, I’m going to cut to the chase.”
Nella blinked. Had he found out that she’d been creeping outside of his door—and therefore, that she knew he was cheating on his wife? Or had he heard what she had really said in the meeting?
Richard pushed his chair a couple of inches away from the table so that he could cross his long, left leg over his right thigh. “Hazel mentioned something to me in private recently. Something that has been happening to you here that is, I must say, deeply disturbing. And I wanted to know if you’d like to talk about it. The floor is yours.”
Nella sat up in her chair. “Disturbing?”
“Yes. Now, I know this might make you uncomfortable, which is why I didn’t want to get Vera involved. Not unless you explicitly tell me that you want me to.”
“I’m not sure what you’re…” Nella stopped herself. Relief washed over her, followed by trepidation, then anger. Hazel had opened her mouth again. “You mean the notes.”
Richard rested his elbow on his thigh, cupping his face with the palm of his hand. He stared at her expectantly in this position for an unbearable amount of time without saying a word. “Can you tell me what those notes said, exactly? Do you remember?”
Nella closed her eyes. It had been a little while since she’d read them—since she’d even had time to really think about them. But how could she forget? “The first one said ‘Leave Wagner now.’ And the other said something like ‘The longer you stay, the harder it is. Leave.’ ” She’d left out the bit about the phone number on purpose, aware of how poor it looked that she had an actual phone number but hadn’t reported it to the police.
Richard shook his head. “And they weren’t signed?”
“Nope,” she said, surprised and a little pleased by how disgusted he sounded. “Not signed. Just left by my desk.”
“My god!” Richard said, banging his fist on the table. “Cowardly fuckers.”
Nella stared at his pink, pinched face, intrigued at this new and unfamiliar version of Wagner’s editor in chief. She had never heard the man swear before, and the expletive didn’t quite mesh with his avocado-colored cashmere sweater.
“Have you told anybody about these letters?” he asked. “Besides Hazel, of course.”
She shook her head.
“No? Have you tweeted about it, or anything? Or told any of your friends who might have written about it?”
“Sorry—what?” asked Nella, genuinely confused. “No, I haven’t told anyone. What did Hazel tell you?”
“Never mind. Don’t worry about it,” Richard said quickly. He visibly softened. “Can I see them?”
“See what?”
“The letters. I’d like to see them.”
“Well, they’re more ‘notes’ than they are ‘letters.’ ”
Richard peered at her, curious. It seemed as though he wanted to comment on the distinction, or at her need to make the distinction, but he said nothing.
“It’s been almost two months since I got the last one, and I got rid of them, actually,” Nella added, sliding one of her own legs over the other as the lie slipped seamlessly between her teeth. She’d actually put the notes in the pocket of a raincoat that hung in the back of her closet. This explanation just felt much easier.
“Well, in any event, I want you to know that we have zero tolerance for that kind of behavior here at Wagner. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Natalie is looking into it as we speak. Starting tomorrow, she’ll begin talking to the mail staff one by one.”
“Oh. Thanks, Richard. I really appreciate that.” Nella put her pen down, which she realized she’d been clicking and unclicking nervously in her lap. She thought of C. J., with his wide, unassuming smile and disarming velvety charm. The mailroom was filled with C. J.s—kind, helpful people who kept their heads down and their eyes averted. They all had different origin stories, but almost every mailroom staff member had skin that fell somewhere in the brown portion of the color wheel. They all knew her, too. Maybe not as well as C. J., but well enough to greet her. “But, with all due respect, I don’t think anyone on the mail staff is responsible for those letters.”
Richard shrugged. “Maybe not. But they might recall someone handing them those envelopes to give to you.”
“I guess that’s possible.”
“Well, then.” Richard paused to remove his tortoiseshell glasses and hold them up to the light. He rubbed at something on his lenses with his thumb before putting them back on. “I’m glad we had this chat, and that you’re aware we’re on it. Sounds good?”
“Soun
ds good,” agreed Nella. “Thanks.”
“Of course. And, one more thing, between you and me: There are going to be some changes around here.”
Nella stiffened. “Changes?” she asked, her mind immediately going to that list of Black names she’d found on the printer.
“Changes. In the next month or so, Natalie will be sending out an email to everyone on the Wagner staff reintroducing a series of Diversity Town Halls. They will be mandatory for all employees.”
Hazel’s doing. “That’s wonderful,” she said robotically, trying to suppress her annoyance, even though it really was wonderful.
“Isn’t it? It’ll be an excellent way for us to… to talk to one another.” Richard put his hands on the table and pushed himself onto his feet. “Do you see what I mean? I feel like there’s not enough talking happening here. We’re talking. Sure. But we’re not talking. If we were talking, I don’t think you’d be receiving notes like the ones you’ve been receiving. You see?”
Nella shrugged. Something about his fixation on the notes and the talking was making her feel restless. His fixation on getting her to agree with him didn’t sit too well, either. “Got it.”
“I have another change for you, too. It’s an even bigger piece of news that I’d like you to keep private. Do you promise me?”
“Sure.” A cramp was settling into her neck from all of the nodding she was doing, but she kept at it anyway.
“The profound, inimitable Jesse Watson is coming in to the office to meet with a few of us next week. And I’d like you to be one of the folks who meets him.”
For the teeniest amount of time, Nella forgot to inhale and exhale at a reasonable rate. The “profound” Jesse Watson? “He’s… he’s coming here?”
“Indeed. You have heard of him, yes?”
Nella nodded. “I have. I just thought he was… um… taking a break from the spotlight.”
“He was. He has been. He and Hazel happen to share a mutual acquaintance, though—small world, isn’t it?—and she gleaned that this hiatus has come from his desire to finally write a book. He’s been wanting to for quite some time, and, well… one thing led to another, and now we have a meeting with him before all the other publishing houses have even had the chance to think about contacting him.”
Of fucking course Hazel knows him, thought Nella petulantly, childishly. For a moment, that was the only piece of information she’d gleaned from Richard’s statement. “Small world, indeed.”
Richard studied her for a few moments, trying to read her blank expression. “If you don’t mind me being so blunt, I’d say you seem absolutely stupefied, Nella. You’d like to meet him, wouldn’t you? Surely, a man like that, of his caliber—”
“Of course. I’d love to meet him. Jesse just seems like… how do I put this…”
“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” said Richard, a small, knowing smile playing across his face. “You think he’s too young and hip for us. I get that.”
More like too Black, she thought, recalling the time Vera had called Jesse an “emotional terrorist.” She was surprised Richard didn’t feel the same way; then again, his interest in Jesse did support her Black mistress theory.
“I know—this whole thing is unconventional. All the controversies surrounding this young man…” Richard shook his head. “He’s so young. So outspoken. But like I said: There are going to be lots of changes occurring around here. And who knows—we could have our own bestseller on our hands with this guy. And you…” Richard pointed at Nella. “You, Nella Rogers, have an opportunity to be a part of that. You’ll join us, yes?”
“Of course,” Nella said warmly. She was feeling far more revitalized by this conversation than she’d expected to. “Would I be able to work on this book myself? As in… be the editor?”
Richard nodded. “Vera and I have talked about it as an option. And we both agree you’ve done more than enough to prove yourself.”
Finally! He hadn’t told her she was being promoted, but she could already see herself logging into her LinkedIn page and updating her title to “Assistant Editor.” She only had about twenty contacts on it, but she could change that. Maybe she’d add Lena just to remind her she existed—and to remind her how to spell her name.
She beamed. “I’m—wow. I would be honored. Thank you, Richard!”
“However,” Richard said, straightening his collar, “we would be remiss not to give Hazel an opportunity, too. Since she introduced us to him in the first place, of course.”
Nella’s smile vanished. She wouldn’t have been more surprised if Richard had picked up one of the chairs and thrown it at her. But Hazel practically just got here! she wanted to scream. I took the initiative and emailed Jesse, and I’ve been wanting this forever!
For a fleeting, rage-filled instant, she envisioned picking up the chair herself. But she pushed the fantasy away, scared it might come to fruition the way her outburst minutes earlier had.
“So, then… what? We’ll be coeditors?”
“Let’s not concern ourselves too much with ‘editor this’ and ‘editor that,’ ” Richard said. “We’ll see how the meeting goes, alright? See how Jesse feels us out. There’s a chance he might even want a more seasoned editor—maybe myself, maybe Vera. Maybe he’ll go with another publishing house. Or, there’s a chance he’s not ready to do a book at all. You know how it is with these kinds of things. Always unpredictable.”
Nella tried to keep her face as impartial as possible, even though his lackadaisical tone about something as career-making as this irked her. Nothing needed to be that unpredictable. Richard had the power to pick her or Hazel; it was that simple.
Richard pushed himself back from the table with a self-satisfied sense of finality. “Well—I have to run into another meeting,” he said, standing, “but I hope this time has been useful to you. I wanted to let you know everything that’s been happening behind the scenes, one-on-one.”
Nella clenched her fists in her lap as she watched Richard stride toward the door, willing him to move faster. He needed to be gone, now, so she could fume in peace. His hand was on the doorknob when he paused and turned to address her once more. “Oh. And one last thing, Nella. I still remember when you told me about how you wanted to be the next Kendra Rae all those moons ago—and I think that you’re well on your way.”
She swallowed. “You do?”
“I can’t help but think of her when I see how hard you’ve been working,” said Richard. “How attentive you’ve been to detail. And I’ll say that…” He shook his head thoughtfully, closing his eyes. “I had a chat with Vera the other day about giving you a promotion in the next few weeks or so.”
“You did?” Nella asked, unable to conceal her astonishment. Between Richard’s putting Hazel on an equal pedestal to her, and her last few weeks at Wagner, she hadn’t felt like anyone thought she’d been doing a good job at all, despite how much of her social life she’d given up, and despite how quickly she answered the phone (an impressive 90 percent mid-first-ring rate). She’d even quietly fixed a few catastrophic production issues, then prevented the knowledge of their existence from ever reaching Vera at all. She felt—if she could be so proud—like the unsung hero of publishing at the moment.
But these measures hardly compared with her surrendering a typed-up apology to Colin Franklin. Such an act had taken an extreme amount of willpower, since it still didn’t feel necessary to Nella—but she’d done it. Simply because Vera had asked her to.
Except Vera had barely batted an eye at the extension of an olive branch. It wasn’t like Nella expected to get points for putting her tail between her legs—no Yay! You’ve put your pride aside to make this project more bearable for everyone, except for you—but she had expected some kind of proverbial pat on the back; at the very least, a thank-you. Instead, Vera had said, “Great,” then handed her yet another four-hundred-page manuscript to read in under forty-eight hours.
After months of giving everything to thi
s job, she still felt as though she were doomed, stuck in assistant purgatory forever, like Donald. She could see her future spreading out right there in front of her—blotchy and precarious and filled with While You Were Out slips—and she hated how little control she felt like she had over any of it.
But now, here was Richard, smiling that dazzling smile, telling her he thought that yes, she was deserving of a promotion. And also deserving—possibly—of working with Jesse. If not directly, then at least meeting him.
She was still searching for something to say when Richard spoke again.
“You know, we see a great deal of amazing things in your future, Nella. We value you as part of the team, too, and it would be a shame for you to leave us just because we have one bad apple.”
Nella frowned, confused. “What? Leave?”
“I mean—I’m not saying we want you to leave,” said Richard, quickly. “I was just saying that getting letters—notes like those—might make you want to. That’s all.”
“Oh… but I’m not—”
“Just promise you’ll let me know if you get any other threatening letters. Alright?”
“Um…” Nella squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. “Alright.”
“And please—if you do get more, don’t throw them out. Give them to me instead. And if she—sorry, this person contacts you in any other way—email, text, what have you—we might be able to use them in our investigation.” Richard chuckled to himself. “ ‘Investigation.’ Listen to me. Mr. Murder, She Wrote over here. But you know what I mean. Right?”
“Sure. I know what you mean.” Nella stood up, too.
“Good.” Richard strode over to her and gave her hand a shake. “We’ll be in touch soon about all that promotion business; we just need to get all our ducks in a row before we go forward with the official title change.”
Nella brightened, even as Richard’s cold, damp hand squeezed the life out of her own. “Sounds great.”
“Nice chatting with you, as always, Nella. And do remember: this whole conversation—Jesse, the letters, the promotion—”
The Other Black Girl: A Novel Page 26
