24 Inches: A MFM Romantic Comedy

by Alexis Angel

  “You need to read this. Right now.”

  25

  Naughty Angel Newsletter

  Yay! Happy Finishing Day Lana Hartley!

  That’s right! Lana Hartley has just finished her manuscript. We haven’t read it yet, but she says it's the best work she’s ever put together. To which, Aidan replied, “Isn’t it the only work you’ve ever put together?”

  But all kidding aside, we’re totally excited to read it. This is the part that I LOVE! Because we get to see if we let Lana into the company as an author! She’s been doing a lot of PA work, but if she becomes an author, she gets to put Angel behind her name and pick a pen name to write under. Her career is basically made at that point because we give her advances and stuff and she can focus on doing what she does best, which is write.

  So what is the title of the book called? We can’t tell you till we finish reading it LOL! And guess what? We have a cover concept all set if it matches what we’re hoping, but again, we need to write it. Oh, and if Lana gets the job then we roll out like a big New Release Giveaway with tons of swag and we’ll have signed paperbacks and you’ll see Lana in all the signings and conventions with her own booth!

  And to think, when we first brought Lana in, she just had an idea. Even if she doesn’t get the manuscript into our publishing process, I am so damn proud of her for finishing the manuscript and getting her shit together.

  And guess what? Apparently on the way, she’s picked up two fans of the male variety. That's right! A one Logan Kane and Anders Carter! Apparently big bad cover models from Naughty Angels Publishing are way into her. And everyone in the office wants to know who Lana is gonna choose? There’s #TeamLogan and #TeamAnders. I don’t know if I have a team yet because I totally love both of those guys, but people are all about like oh hey, you know I’m #TeamAnders and stuff and it’s hilarious.

  What team is Lana? Well, she’s being really coy about it and not saying anything. It’s like she wants both haha. But like that kinda stuff only happens in the books we write, ya know? Not in real life. So I’m sure that whatever we dirty ladies are fantasizing about isn’t gonna happen. And don’t say you weren’t fantasizing with me lol. Because I was totally thinking about like two giant cocks from Logan and Anders taking Lana and shooting her up to paradise OMG! Like one in her mouth and one in her pussy! I bet Lana is turning so red reading this right now. I wonder if I’m putting any ideas in her head. Like if they both stand over her with their big cocks that are all hard do they slap her face with it? That’s hot. What if they cum on her? OMG that would be so hot! I would pay good money for a manuscript like that to publish! Something like that would be published immediately haha!

  Anyways, that's enough of my crazy sex fantasies!

  Stay sexy everyone! We’ll keep you updated on what goes on with Lana’s book!

  Hugs and kisses and lots of love!

  Abby

  26

  Anders

  In my dream, I'm running. To where, from where, or from whom, I have no clue. But instead of running, I'm moving in slow motion … as if I'm moving through sand, or water, or maybe even molasses. My body is tense, and heavy.

  There's a weight pressing down all around me.

  I try to speak, but my words are thick and slow to form. They stick in my mouth, unwilling to come out. My throat tightens with the effort.

  There's a horizon, but I can't see beyond that, and the landscape is barren. Martian and unfamiliar.

  I hear a car horn in the distance, but I don't see a car.

  I pivot my head in slow motion, and still hear the sound. I'm looking for the object. It's getting closer, and closer, and …

  My eyes snap open.

  The dream dissolves, but I still hear the repetitive sound of a horn. Is that real, or remnants of my dream?

  Then I realize it's not a car horn at all, it's my phone, and it's buzzing by my bed, on the nightstand. It's teetering on the edge, nearly ready to fall on the floor.

  I reach for it, and answer. "Hello?"

  "Did I wake you?"

  It's April, my agent. She sounds flustered and upset, and I'd say if she's calling me this early, it must be important.

  "It's fine. I need to get up anyways," I say. "But you're awake early."

  "You sound funny," she says, as if she hardly believes I'm awake at all. And that's partly true. My mind is still foggy with sleep.

  "Well, you just so happened to have snapped me out of a weird ass dream," I say.

  "You'll have to tell me about that dream some other time. Have you been on Facebook this morning?" she asks, and then backpedals. "Never mind. I take that back. You just woke up. Stupid question. But you need to go to Facebook. Right now."

  "I'll check it out in a little bit," I say with a yawn. "I think I need coffee and a shower first before I jump on social media. One thing at a time."

  "No, it's important," she says. "Turn it on now. This can't wait. I mean it!"

  "Slow down. You sound as if someone's dying. What's the urgency?" I ask.

  Outside, I hear New York City coming to life. Sirens are blaring in the distance, and the sun is slicing through my curtains. Why is it that the sun always shines in just the right way that it lands in my eyes? I swear. It always happens.

  "It's Grady," April says, bringing my mind back to the present.

  "What? You mean, Grady of Bad Boy Publishing? That Grady?"

  "Yes, that Grady. And he's hosting a live Facebook feed. You have to watch it."

  "I don't give a fuck about Grady," I say. "Why would I want to watch his live feed? I can think of a million other ways I'd rather spend my time. Watching one minute of Grady talking is the equivalent of taking 10 years off of my life."

  "What is this, a game of 20 questions?" April asks. "C'mon, just trust me on this."

  "Okay, give me a sec," I say, running my fingers through my hair and swinging my feet off the bed.

  I reach for my iPad and tap the Facebook app.

  It loads. My personal stream flashes on the screen—people posting various pictures of pets and babies, and beach vacations, and plates of food, and cocktails, and selfies … and well, you get the picture. The usual.

  Typical stuff.

  And then I see what I'm looking for.

  Sure enough, Grady's hosting a live feed, and his entire network is tuning in. I join, just so I can see what's fueling April's near hysteria.

  Fuck.

  She's right.

  This isn't good.

  "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" April asks.

  But I can't speak.

  Just like in my dream, words seem to be cemented in my mouth.

  My mind is racing a hundred miles an hour and I'm at a loss for words … because there's too many. I know I'd like to strangle Grady, but beyond the anger, I'm also confused.

  Deeply confused.

  "Hello? Are you still there, Anders?"

  April sounds increasingly agitated.

  "Yeah, sorry," I say. "I'm still here. Just stunned."

  "I know. Me too. I know how much The Virgin Market meant to you."

  On the live Facebook feed, Grady is talking about The Virgin Market. He's bragging to the world that he has a copy of the manuscript, and not only that, but he also has the rights to publish it.

  Grady has a shit-eating grin from ear to ear. He says that Lana gave him permission—and not only that, but he's saying she signed over the rights for The Virgin Market to Bad Boy Publishing.

  He's gushing.

  I've never seen Grady happier. In fact, he's so happy that he's talking into the camera with his hands.

  "It's going to be A-M-A-Z-I-N-G," Grady beams. "If you haven't already, reserve your copy today. This is a sizzling release you won't want to miss."

  What the fuck?

  "Did Lana actually give Bad Boy Publishing permission to publish her book?" April asks.

  "Are you kidding me? Over her dead body! I know Lana, and she would never sign a contract
with them."

  "I don't know, Anders. If Lana didn't sign a contract, how did Grady get a copy of the manuscript?" April asks.

  She's right. None of this makes sense. Someone would've had to given it to him.

  Then Grady says something even more shocking, as if I wasn't stunned enough already.

  "The cover model for this book will be none other than Logan Kane, and believe me … this is gonna be a real scorcher."

  Logan Kane? On the cover of Lana's book?

  I feel my blood pressure climb and my pulse is drumming its own beat in my neck.

  I'm pissed.

  I'm more than pissed. I'm fucking livid.

  "Let me make some calls," I tell April. "I'll get to the bottom of this."

  And we hang up.

  The first person to call? Logan.

  I need to talk to him.

  I dial his number. It rings and rings, but he isn't answering.

  I hang up and try again with the same results.

  Fuck.

  If he isn't going to answer my calls, we'll have to deal with this the hard way.

  I'm driving to him in person.

  27

  Logan

  “One… fucking… more…” I grunt, pushing the bar up, my chest feeling as if it’s about to burst. My arms are shaking, and there’s sweat running down my forehead and into my eyes. But I manage to do two more reps, one more than I expected to, and only then do I place the bar down onto the steel rack.

  Sitting up on the bench, I wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand and close my eyes for a couple of seconds, feeling my heart hammering against my chest.

  I’ve spent all morning in the gym, working hard to clear my mind; so far, I’m not sure if it’s working. My conversation with Abby helped matters, but I’m not so sure how I feel right now. Well, I feel fucking tired and sore—after all, three hours of working out like a madman has consequences, but that aside, everything’s a fucking blur.

  When I open up my eyes, I gaze out the windows at the far end of the gym, and I look just in time to see Anders pulling up to the parking area in his sports car. I watch as he kills off the engine and then walks through the front door, his footsteps heavy and alarming. I look at him surprised (he usually works out in the afternoon, after all), and I start making my way toward him.

  And that’s when I see the rage in his face. His lips have become a snarl, and I can almost see flames burning under his eyelids.

  “Hey, what’s goin’ --” I start, but he gives me no time to finish my sentence. Raising his fist, he cocks his arm back and takes a swing at me. I try to step out of the way, but it’s already too late; his fist connects with my face and, for a moment, I almost think I’m going to fall back. Somehow, I manage to remain up on my feet; I take one step back and take my hand to my mouth, feeling the leaden taste of blood on my tongue. “What the fuck, man? What was that for?”

  “Do you even have to ask, Logan?” he whispers, each of his words loaded with so much rage that I can’t help but take a step back. “You’ve betrayed Lana. You’ve betrayed me… You’ve betrayed everyone around you. And for what? Money?”

  “I --”

  “How could you do something like this?” he continues, completely ignoring me. “And forget about Lana and I. Abby Cleveland has always treated you right, giving you her best covers for you to work on… Is this your way of thanking her? You fucking steal from her?”

  “Anders, calm the fuck down. It’s not --”

  “I don’t even want to hear your bullshit excuses, Logan. I’ve had enough of you,” he says and, for the first time since he came into the gym, he has finally lowered his voice. He’s calm now, but there’s a hint of sorrow in his words. He sounds… jaded. Just like he used to be before Lana showed up with her manuscript. “I thought that I was wrong about you, you know, and right when I start to think that I’ve treated you wrongly these past few months, you have to go and fuck it up. I was right; you’re in this to make a quick buck. You don’t care about anyone.”

  “I care about Lana!” I whisper, gritting my teeth and making a fucking herculean effort not to snap. He might not believe it, but I care more about Lana than I care about anything else. “You need to let me fucking explain!”

  “Fuck you. How can you even say that?” he asks me, and there’s a blend of surprise and disgust in his face. “You care about her? If you truly cared about her, you wouldn’t have sold her manuscript to Grady.”

  I just stare back at him, having no idea on what to say, and then Anders just shakes his head and turns on his heels. I stay frozen in place as I watch him leave, but then my body reacts; I run after him and, grabbing his right arm, I make him stop. He turns to face me, and the look on his face is one of pure contempt.

  “Let go of me,” he whispers, and his words are so cold that I just do what he tells me to. I take my fingers off of his arm. “I’m through with you,” he adds, and turns again to leave. This time I don’t stop him; I just watch him go, my heart feeling like a fucking stone inside my chest.

  Running one hand through my hair, all of it drenched in sweat, I let out a heavy sigh.

  “Fuck,” I whisper to myself, and then make my way toward the bench. Sitting there, I look out the window and watch as Anders gets inside his car and leaves. He’s probably going to meet Lana right now and, no matter how much I want to, I can’t go after him.

  It fucking breaks my heart that right now, I can’t be with her. But that’s for the best, right? At least that’s what I should be thinking, but I just can’t. To know that she’s going to be in Anders’ arms and that I won’t be there as well… Fuck, that shit just crushes me.

  With a sigh, I stand up and place a few more heavy plates on the bar. Lying back down on the bench, I raise my arms and place my hands under the bar, curling my fingers around it. Tensing up, I arch my back and push the bar up, slowly lowering it until it’s brushing against my chest. With a loud grunt, I start pushing it up, over and over again, doing it until my arms go numb.

  And then I just keep on doing it.

  Right now, I gotta keep my mind off Lana and Anders. Whatever it takes.

  So much fucking depends on it.

  No matter how hard it is.

  28

  Lana

  Ah, there’s nothing better than to wake up and feel happy and healthy.

  And that’s why today I decided to roll out of bed and attend a yoga class. I drank a smoothie, packed my gym clothes, and went on my way with a skip to my step. I mean, I had every right to be happy! I have two handsome men by my side, and the chances of having The Virgin Market published are looking better and better.

  Of course, things change. Fast.

  I was leaving my yoga studio when I took my cellphone out of my pocket. The moment I saw ten missed calls from Anders on my screen, I knew in my core that something was wrong. I tried to call him back, but he didn’t pick up; then I unlocked my phone and realized that he had left me a text message as well.

  Lana, something’s wrong. Logan fucked you over, the text read, and my heart sunk like a rock. Instead of walking home like I originally planned, I just called a cab and hopped inside.

  Five minutes have passed since I read that message, and right now, I’m unlocking the door to my apartment. Stepping inside, I throw my gym bag and yoga mat onto the couch and try to call Anders again, pacing around my living room like a woman gone mad.

  “God,” I mutter, frustrated as I hear the endless tone of the unanswered call against my ear. Sighing, I scroll down my contact list and stop my thumb over Logan’s name. I’m about to call him when I notice that I have a Facebook notification. I press down on the red icon, and the app launches quickly.

  And then my heart stops.

  The first post on my feed is a live stream from Bad Boy Publishing, and in the screenshot I can see their CEO holding a manuscript in his hand and smiling at the camera. I don’t even have to press play to know what's happened; I just
put the pieces together inside my head.

  Suddenly feeling my legs growing weak, I make my way toward the couch and sink down on it, still staring at the screen. I start dragging my thumb over the screen, the room spinning around me as I realize the kind of posts flooding my newsfeed. Not an hour has passed since the Bad Boy Publishing live stream hit the Internet, but a lot of news publication have already picked up the story.

  My eyes devour headline after headline and, for a short moment in time, I almost believe that I’m having a nightmare.

  Bad Boy Publishing rocks the romance industry, one publication reads.

  Bad Boy Publishing steals rising star from Naughty Angel, says another one.

  Grady scores win over Abby.

  Lana Hartley - the new face of Bad Boy Publishing?

  And it goes on and on.

  But you want to know the worst headline? The one that made tears start to sting my eyes? Logan Sanders will be the face of The Virgin Market, a promising novel from Bad Boy Publishing.

  I stare at the screen for God knows how long, completely losing all notion of time. My hand starts to tremble as a sob makes my chest convulse violently and I drop the cellphone onto the floor. I bury my face into my hands and let the tears stream down my face, heavy sorrow gripping my heart.

  No, no, no. This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.

  I trusted him!

  I… I loved him!

  How could Logan do something like this? I allowed him to legally represent me because I trusted him, because I needed his help … and he used my trust to cut a deal with Grady, Abby Cleveland’s sworn enemy.

  Another sob takes over my chest and I let the tears flow freely and out-of-control. I’m so lost right now that I can barely hear the sound of someone knocking at my door. Only when whoever’s there starts pounding his fist against the door do I hear it.