by B. Celeste
“What about a different editor?”
“Kinley—”
“I know I’m asking for a lot,” I cut her off, straightening in the office chair Dad bought me for the spare room. He and Gavin found some secondhand furniture for me to create a little office next to my bedroom. “I just think the story is good as it is. I mean, sure, there are some typos and errors, but the plot shouldn’t need to be changed. What more could she want?”
She sighs, and I can only imagine what her face looks like. Is it pinched with irritation? Is she fed up with the teenager she took on? I wince at the possibilities.
“As you know, the manuscript was rejected as is by three other publishers,” she finally says. “I told you that some of these houses will be hard to reach, but this woman’s interest is a good sign. You could sign with Rave Publishing if you just work with them on this. Her notes are very helpful, Kinley. She thinks if you added a larger conflict it could heighten the development of the couple. Right now, she feels like Beck and Ryker fall a little flat.”
Pressing my lips together, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I’d be stupid to turn down this opportunity just because of personal opinions. And, realistically, I had the slightest doubt in my couple’s relationship development when I revised it. I knew it was because the story I started writing was one I felt from the heart, and the happy ending I gave them was forced at best.
“I’m forwarding you her notes,” she tells me, clicking a few times before my phone buzzes with a new email alert. “Look them over and see what you think. I’m telling you this is good news. I have a great feeling about this potential working relationship. In six months, we’ll resubmit—”
“Six months?”
“There are limits as to how many times we can submit the same book to a company,” she explains, typing again. “They have a six-month waiting period. That gives you time to focus on revisions without being stressed. Just follow what she commented on in the manuscript and replot certain elements. I know you can do it. Plus, you’re in your senior year now. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your upcoming graduation that I’m sure your parents want you to focus on more.”
I make a face in the empty room I wallow in. School started last week, and everything is different. I expected to be met by pitied stares because everyone knew that my only two friends graduated. I mentally prepared myself to eat in the library instead of the cafeteria because I have nobody to sit with.
But people talked to me.
Complimented me.
It’s … foreign.
“Do we have a deal?”
I want to grumble under my breath, but showing my age isn’t exactly the reminder I want to give Jamie as to what she got herself into. I want to prove that age isn’t a limit—that there are no boundaries with me. So, I agree.
“We’ll plan another day for you to come up here when it fits into your schedule,” she adds, whatever work ceasing as a voice speaks in the background. “We can discuss the notes more another day. The new interns have arrived, and I have feeling half of them will wish they found a different agency to assist.”
My lips waver in an almost-smile.
I can hear shuffling on her end. “Maybe you’ll meet some of them when you come here next. Until then, please keep an open mind when you go through the notes.”
I want to tell her that’s unlikely but say goodbye instead and stare at the email. Rather than opening it, I walk out of the room and down the hall. Changing into something warmer for the cooler weather, I slip into my shin-high boots and walk downstairs.
Mom and Dad look up from the papers they read at the kitchen table, their eyebrows raised. It’s Dad who glances at the large silver watch that always rests on his tan wrist and asks, “Where are you off to?”
“Meeting with Zach?” Mom guesses.
I nudge the floor with my foot. “I was actually wondering if I can get another driving lesson. It’ll be good for me to practice more.”
Dad folds up the paper and sets it down on the table. “We can go down to the old Game Club and drive around.”
I smile. “Okay.”
I try to ignore Mom’s growing smile as she goes back to her paper. She’s been hinting at me getting out more all summer. Then Zach would magically appear within hours like they have some code word.
But I always go.
For Mom, not for me like I should.
Dad drives us down the street, turning onto a dirt road that leads to a cabin and pond where the town used to host a lot of events. There is still quite a bit of hunters that use the land during the season, but the cabin is run down and the pond doesn’t offer more than tiny sunfish and litter these days.
Once we’re far enough up the road, he pulls over and switches spots with me. When we’re both buckled in, he gives me some initial instructions before I begin the lesson.
It’s a few minutes into me just driving around and getting a feel for everything when he asks, “What made you want to do this?”
I glance at him for a moment before maneuvering a three-point turn like he told me to. The last time I did this I almost landed us in a ditch. Gavin would have had a field day if we called him asking to tow us out.
Freedom, I answer silently.
“It’s time,” is what I say aloud. “Gavin got his license when he was sixteen. I’ve barely driven anywhere, and I suck at it.”
Dad laughs. “Your brother has also been driving a tractor since he was ten. Don’t give yourself a hard time.”
He doesn’t need to remind me about how much Gavin’s done. When I turned sixteen, Gavin gave me his driving manual to read over so I could take the written test for my permit. I didn’t have interest then and got lectured about how he’s been driving for years on the farm.
“Yeah, I know he did.”
We drive around in silence for a few minutes. “How’s the writing thing going?”
Half of my lips quirk up. I love it when Dad asks me about my writing. Unless I offer up the conversation at home, the only time I speak about it is when it’s just him and me.
“I spoke with Jamie before we left.”
“And?”
I try not frowning but fail. “The woman she submitted my book to told me I need to revise it. It’ll take at least six months before she even reads it again. Maybe more.”
Dad shifts, looking out the windshield. “I suppose that’s not a bad thing. You’re going to be busy with school anyway.”
Humming out a non-reply, I nod my head.
“It sounds like she’s interested though.”
“Six months is a long time.”
I remember having this very conversation with Corbin when he complained about graduation being so far away. Now that he’s gone, it feels like the time I had with him passed too quickly. But I bet he preferred it that way since he wanted out since the day he stepped foot into our small town.
My grip tightens on the wheel.
“It’ll pass before you know it,” Dad promises.
I don’t agree, but I let it go. It’s just my bitterness leaving me in a foul mood. I thought I’d have better news to share with my family by now—something to show for all the work I’ve done the past few months on my book. Like I’d have a book deal or promise of one to celebrate so my parents would smile and congratulate me. Maybe we’d go out to eat to celebrate like they did when Gavin first got co-ownership of the farm.
Instead, I have nothing except revisions plaguing me. Revisions that still boil my blood the more I think about it. What kind of conflict does she want me to give them? Their love story is already riddled with tension.
When Dad clears his throat and shifts for a third time in the short amount we’ve been here, I know I’m about to have a conversation I don’t want to. “Have you heard from him?”
Staring at the road ahead of me, I debate on lying or stalling to answer. Dad would know better though. If not by my hesitation, by the strong grip that turns my knuckles white. “No.
From what his mom says, he’s been put to work quite a bit doing small roles and commercials.”
He makes an effort with me that nobody else has, but it’s feeble at best given my reluctance to entertain the topic. “That sounds exciting for him.”
“It is,” I relent.
Silence.
“You know—”
“Can we not?” I ask awkwardly, twisting my grip on the wheel until an eerie squeal sounds from the movement.
He sighs, clearly not wanting to relent but doing so anyway. He’s told me before that bottling up my feelings doesn’t get me anywhere. But he told me that when I’d gotten into a fight with Mom. Not Corbin. It’s different. “Sure, kid.”
I turn on the radio and let the music drown out the silence between us. It doesn’t ease the screaming thoughts haunting my mind.
The light layer of fresh snowfall coating the pavement and small tree branches planted along the side of the bustling Big Apple streets has me smiling as I walk toward the familiar skyscraper. It no longer intimidates me as I near its large structure because I know today is different.
Gavin and his new girlfriend Kayla agreed to stay behind and look around some of the storefronts while I met with Jamie, and I was thankful. If it hadn’t been for Kayla insisting that I didn’t need a babysitter, Gavin would have planted himself in the same chair he did last time until I was ready to go.
Shoving my gloved hands into the pockets of my down-filled coat, I walk through the carousel door and smile at the security guard sitting at the desk off to the side. He simply nods in acknowledgment as I walk toward the elevators and press the up button.
A dark-haired guy in a fitted black button peacoat and light gray slacks walks up beside me as the elevator makes its decent. Nerves prickle the back of my neck as I offer him a tiny smile. He doesn’t hesitate to smile back, giving me a quick once over with his equally dark brown eyes that I think I may have imagined before he looked forward again.
But the corners of his lips twitch into a wider smile that I note from his profile. And it’s a nice profile. Full lips, squared face, and a straight nose that looks like it may have been broken at one point in his lifetime. His skin is darker than mine by a few shades, making my already milky skin look worse since winter took over and hid the sun.
I bite down on my inner cheek and wait for the doors to open. When they do, he gestures for me to walk in first. My fingertips tingle in my pockets as he follows me in, keeping a decent distance between us at opposite corners of the elevator.
“What floor?” he asks me, getting ready to press one of the buttons on the panel in front of him.
“Eight,” I squeak out, feeling heat creep over my face from the mewled response. Clearing my throat, I wince when his gaze drifts toward me, brows raised.
“Eight?” he repeats. I just nod and swear he says huh before stepping back. He never pushed a second button.
We ride up the eight stories in silence, both our hands in our pockets. Once in a while I’ll sneak a peek his way, wondering why he’s going to Jamie’s floor. He could be another author. I don’t know everybody that the agency represents, so it’s plausible.
When the doors open, the same receptionist I saw before looks up at us. She smiles at me, but keeps her gaze locked on the man walking directly behind me. “Parker, Ms. Little—”
“Parker,” Jamie says from somewhere close by, coming out of one of the side offices near the elevators. “So nice of you to join us.”
The guy blushes. “Jeff told me I didn’t need to come in the usual time because there were meetings I wasn’t needed at, ma’am.”
Jamie walks over to us, one of her brows quirked in a way that says is that right? “Is Jeff your boss or am I?”
The guy, Parker, swallows. “You are.”
“Correct. Just because you’re in the publicist division doesn’t mean you can come in whenever you see fit. I’ll make sure Jeff knows as much before giving the interns free range. And what did I say about calling me ma’am? “
“Not to?”
“Correct again, Mr. Jennings.”
I shift on my feet, feeling uncomfortable bearing witness to this awkward exchange. Jamie doesn’t seem to care that she’s reprimanding somebody in front of me, but I feel bad for the guy. I wouldn’t want anyone seeing me get scolded if I were in his shoes.
She finally turns to me as I peel off my winter gloves and stick them in my pockets for safe keeping. “Kinley, I’m glad you could make it. I’m not sure if you’ve properly met, but this is our last remaining intern Parker Jennings. He’ll be with us for the next two years, isn’t that right?”
Parker glances at me while nodding.
“Parker, this is Kinley Thomas.” I do what I was taught and hold out my hand. For some reason it takes him by surprise because he stares at it before sliding his palm into mine and shaking. Heat blossoms back over my cheeks and nose over his firm grip, only relenting when we drop our hands and I stuff mine back into my coat. “She’s one of my authors who’s here to discuss the book I’ll be representing.”
His brows dart up. “Aren’t you a little young to be an author?”
Unable to refrain from frowning, I retort, “Aren’t you a little young to be a publicist?”
Jamie chuckles. “Parker is twenty-one and fulfilling his internship from NYU. He’ll be working here to gain experience.”
“Would you like anything to drink?” she asks me.
Before I can answer, Parker says, “I can make a fresh pot of coffee and bring you some if you’d like.”
My lips part. “Oh. Uh…” I force a smile and give him a tiny shrug. “I don’t drink coffee actually but thank you.”
“Hot chocolate or tea?” he presses, unbuttoning his peacoat.
I wouldn’t mind something hot to drink, and since he’s offering… “I wouldn’t mind a hot chocolate. Thank you.”
He nods and walks away, leaving just Jamie and me. She gestures toward her office. When we walk inside, she closes the door behind me and rounds her desk.
I take off my coat and sit down in the same blue chair as the first time. “It’s a lot warmer here than back home.”
“One of the many advantages of living in the city,” she remarks, moving some papers out of her way. “I’d like to talk about the revisions.”
My heart squeezes in a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. It took me two months to rework the entire thing. I started from scratch and copy and pasted bits and pieces from the original manuscript to formulate the new one.
“I love it.”
Eyes popping open, I can only stare.
She nods once, seeing my shock. “What made you choose to add the cheating element? It brings a new kind of depth that was missing before and brings these characters to life. You feel their pain, witness their shortcomings, and still cheer them on.”
“I…” I lick my lips, struggling to admit the truth. I don’t want to tell her that I wrote it out of pettiness and assumptions that might not even be true. The pictures surfacing of Corbin with different women make it hard to deny though. He never reached out, showed up, or even tried.
He moved on.
And I felt … cheated.
Yet, I blamed myself. I always do that and hate myself for putting so much pressure on my shoulders to be what everyone wants. The truth is, I’m not what Corbin Callum wants. The girls in those pictures are skinner, prettier, and probably have a lot more money and time to offer him. They’re not in high school. They’re probably from his new world—actresses.
“…will do very well. You should be proud of yourself, Kinley. I am. In fact, I sent the manuscript to Kim at Rave as soon as I finished it and told her waiting another three months before reading it was too long.”
Speechless, I just swallow the bitterness of Corbin and the girls and absorb the pride in Jamie’s eyes. It’s the type of pride I need to confirm that this is exactly what I worked for. And it’s … overwhelming in the best way.
Then reality hits me and I slide forward in a new anticipation that fills the room. “Did she reply? Is she going to read it sooner? Do you think they’ll pick it up now—”
Jamie laughs and waves me down. “She read the first few chapters and told me she was drawn in from page one. The first version was good, Kinley, but not even I knew what you were capable of until I read this one. Through Shattered Glass is going to be a huge hit.”
“So…?” I grip my hands together in my lap, waiting for her to tell me something positive.
She grins. “Kim can’t officially confirm that Rave will pick it up, but she’s confident that they will once a few others read it. As soon as I know, I’ll reach out to you.”
My heart is racing so fast that I think it might propel out of my chest. “You really think it’ll be picked up?”
Leaning back, she rests her hands on her desk and levels with me. “When have I ever told you something I didn’t mean? This book is one of the best ones I’ve read in a long time because of the raw emotion you put into it. For somebody so young, you have a talent that amazes me.”
Did she just … compliment me?
Jamie Little complimented me.
A huge smile stretches across my face until it physically hurts. But I don’t care. Because Jamie freaking Little just told me that my talent amazes her—that my book is the best she’s read.
“We can take this far,” she continues, reaching for a pen and writing something down on the notepad beside her. “There’s no doubt in my mind we can secure audio and foreign deals through Rave when the time comes. And even better, if the sales are as good as I think, we can look into film rights as well.”
“Fi…” I blink. Then blink again.
In fact, I’m tempted to pinch my arm because there’s no way I’m sitting here in her office discussing any of this. It’s too good to be true. Being picked up by a publisher is one thing, but everything else? A movie deal?
It’s…
She sets her pen down. “This type of book raises the kind of questions that readers love talking about. The love story you created is rough around the edges and real, and you’ll get a vast array of readers.”
