Geek Actually Season 1 Omnibus

by Cathy Yardley

  Taneesha: Jesus.

  Elli: Some of them even say things like she ought to be grateful they’re willing to rape her. What is wrong with people?

  Christina: The only thing wrong with some people is they haven’t been killed yet IMO >:( sorry I’m late here

  Aditi: I stopped reading the comments on Jezebel. And those are moderated, right? The real whack-jobs are the ones finding me on Twitter. And emailing me. I am not even looking at my inbox—I have hundreds of messages.

  Christina: Fuuuuuck are you kidding me?

  Taneesha: Have they started sending you anything? Delivery food, dead stuff?

  Christina: Dead stuff??? WTF???

  Michelle: I still can’t believe the police won’t do anything until somebody gets hurt.

  Taneesha: Guys… I’m scared. Like, legit scared. Somebody took pictures of me going to work recently. I thought it was just gonna be a blip, like a couple guys getting pissed. We’ve all been trolled at one point, right? But this is some next level ish.

  Elli: That is terrible! How scary! What is WRONG with these people?

  Michelle: How do you know it’s recent? How recent?

  Taneesha: Anyway, I was sorta pissed, so spur of the moment, I changed up my look. Wanted to show them I wasn’t going to be fucked with, you know? Feel my power. Go Queen Bey. Because I was feeling really puny. Didn’t even want to talk to anybody about it. Not even you guys. (Sorry.)

  Elli: It’s okay. I feel that way sometimes, too. Introverts unite. :/ I bet you look awesome, though! I mean, it still sucks. But you probably look fantastic.

  Aditi: Pics?

  Taneesha: Later. Point is, somebody already took a picture and fucking sent it to me, Photoshopped with my throat slit. Outside my fucking work.

  Elli: OH MY GOD. Call the police again!! How could they possibly think this isn’t enough?

  Christina: And your work isn’t doing anything?

  Taneesha: What are they going to do? Other than make snarky remarks about how I shouldn’t take time off to go to the hairdresser or ask me out? Jesus.

  Christina: What. The actual. Fuck. What about the asshole who posted about it on Reddit? Is he even sorry?

  Taneesha: I don’t know. I doubt it. I haven’t played WoW since I got doxed, because I’m afraid I’ll run into people who are looking for me because of that whole thing. Don’t much want to be on social media at this point, either.

  Elli: Hugs and more hugs, sweetie. :( I wish there was something I could do. Is there anything I can do? I mean, I’d be a horrible bodyguard, obviously, but I can keep an eye out for psychos.

  Michelle: That’s smart, steering clear on social media. Give them less of a target. They’ll find another outlet for outrage.

  Christina: That’s bullshit! That’s the advice they always give—just get off the internet, don’t give them anything. And it’s obvious it’s moved beyond the internet. She’s getting fucking stalked in IRL.

  Michelle: I KNOW that, Christina. I’m just saying, let it blow over. I hate to have to say it like this, but this is not the hill to die on. Let the misogynoir dickheads bluster, don’t throw gas on the fire and make them escalate.

  Christina: Still a fucking bullshit answer

  Michelle: I don’t want her to get hurt or worse. It’s easy to say “stand up” but there’s also SAFETY to think about.

  Taneesha: I don’t want to get hurt, either. If anyone’s asking.

  Christina: Again, I call bullshit. They’re just going to fuck with her until they think she’s beaten down. Then if she shows any sign of coming back they’ll start up again.

  Taneesha: Thanks for cheering me up. /sarcasm

  Christina: Sorry T but it’s the truth. They’re bullies. You have to stand up to bullies.

  Taneesha: The fuck? Are you saying I’m being a coward, here?

  Elli: Come on, guys, let’s not fight!

  Christina: I’m saying that there’s got to be a way to strike back, even if the police are too stupid or too pussy to help you out.

  Michelle: No! No. Not a good idea.

  Taneesha: Yeah, well, you tell me what to do to stop getting shit sent to my house and for somebody to stop stalking me, and I’ll do it.

  Aditi: I kinda hate the world right now.

  Elli: I am going to watch Supernatural and drink hot chocolate and cocoon until I feel better. Wish you guys were here.

  MICHELLE

  A few hours later, Michelle was still mulling over Taneesha’s stalker problems since being doxed. Christina always wanted to fight, and Michelle was pissed that her sister seemed to be yet again oblivious to what was going on. Sometimes, the prudent thing to do was de-escalate. But Christina, armed with her fire extinguisher filled with propane, wouldn’t know prudent if it bit her on the ass.

  Honestly, it shocked and baffled Michelle sometimes that the two of them were related.

  “Gwen’s ready for you,” Gwen’s assistant said, gesturing to the door.

  Michelle stepped into Gwen’s office, her anger at Christina and her anguish at Taneesha’s situation ebbing.

  Get your head in the game, dammit.

  This was about Aditi. Aditi’s book. Aditi’s career. She’d been prepping for this for a full day. She already had promo ideas for how they could leverage the viral article. Maybe even have Aditi write up another, strike while the iron was hot. Building a relationship with Jezebel wasn’t a bad thing for her. And a book tour. She knew Aditi had some anxiety, but an honest-to-God book tour worked wonders with the YA sci-fi and fantasy crowd. She’d be able to convince her.

  It was going to be huge. Red Queen huge. Throne of Glass huge. Hunger Games huge. Faraday hadn’t done much YA before, but all they had to do was play it right.

  Gwen was sitting behind her large desk, a stern expression on her face as she looked away from her monitor. “Sit down, Michelle.”

  “I’m assuming you want to talk about Aditi’s article,” Michelle said, leaping right in. “Isn’t it great? The view count just keeps climbing, and it’s getting plenty of buzz.” She waited a beat, then produced the ace in her pocket. “It was a trending topic on Twitter, can you believe?”

  “I can believe it.”

  “So I’m thinking we can leverage it,” Michelle said. “I’ve got…”

  “I want the article taken down.”

  Michelle gaped. “Wait, what?”

  “But I know Jezebel won’t go for that,” Gwen said calmly. “So, barring that, we need to steer Aditi in a new direction. Don’t have her comment on anything, and for God’s sake, don’t have her write a follow-up.”

  Michelle thought she probably resembled a dying fish at this point, her mouth working wordlessly as she tried to wrap her brain around her publisher’s instructions. “But… why? The publicity is phenomenal!”

  Gwen sighed heavily. “It positions it as an issues book,” Gwen pointed out. “A feminist book.”

  “It is a feminist book!”

  “Is it?” Gwen cocked her head, her eyes bright. “Do you really want to pigeonhole it that way? A large part of the readership is male, you know. You could be cutting her audience in half. Maybe more than half. Do you want to kill her chances, just to prove a point?”

  Now, somewhere in the shock, a thin edge of anger sliced through. “She’s YA fantasy. That’s going to be a slightly different audience,” Michelle said, starting to get her bearings. “And we don’t need the whole sci-fi audience. We need the super-fans who are eager for exactly this sort of a book.”

  Gwen sighed again. “I thought you wanted your author to be successful. This is going to hamstring her before we even launch.”

  “If anything, it’s opening her audience up,” Michelle argued. “We’re already getting buzz. This will open doors for different reviewers, outside of the usual sci-fi suspects that Faraday usually pursues, the purists. YA fantasy and sci-fi readers are more eclectic, and there’s an underserved female audience that this sort of article speaks to specifi
cally. And the book’s not so hard sci-fi that it’s unapproachable for a mass-market audience. I think—”

  Gwen spoke over her. “No follow-ups on this topic. I’m serious, Michelle. I don’t want to see anything from Aditi in Jezebel again. Not Bustle, either.”

  Michelle swallowed hard, feeling her stomach clench in an ugly knot.

  “That isn’t really why I called you in here, anyway,” Gwen said, making a brushing motion with her hand, as if she were sweeping away Aditi, her book, and the entire debacle. “I need you to do something for me.”

  Michelle blinked. You just torpedoed my author’s publicity, and now you want a favor? Seriously?

  Gwen looked like she was bracing herself. Then she sat up straight and looked Michelle in the eye.

  “I need you to apologize to Sterling Knight.”

  “For what?” Michelle shouted. She couldn’t help it. “His edit? Gwen, you know he’s been problematic…”

  “Not the edit,” Gwen said, then paused. “Well, the edit as well. But for the article.”

  Michelle blanked. “What article?”

  “Aditi’s article.”

  Are you shitting me?

  “I beg your pardon?” Michelle said instead, shifting into safe corporate speak.

  “You need to apologize to Sterling for Aditi’s article, and assure him there aren’t going to be any more like it coming from that quarter.” Gwen’s voice was a monotone.

  “I can’t believe this,” Michelle said. “You want me to apologize to one of our authors for something that another author has done, that has absolutely nothing to do with him personally. She doesn’t call him out by name. And if he is identifying with MRAs and that kind of toxic attitude… seriously, Gwen. You want me to apologize for him simply being offended that one of our female authors wrote about a topic he vociferously counters?”

  Gwen’s expression was downright stoic. “I know it’s… unorthodox.”

  It’s fucking crazy!

  “That’s one way of putting it,” Michelle said, her mind scrambling for purchase. “You can’t be serious. Do you know what kind of precedent this sets? What kind of power this hands him?”

  “He’s one of our most valuable authors,” Gwen pointed out. “He makes more on backlist than your new author could possibly make, even if she hit it out of the park on her launch. And let’s face it, as an issue book, as ‘feminist sci-fi,’ it’s not going to do all that much for us. It’s a nice book to acquire, and we can probably make some money, but it would be shooting ourselves in the foot to push too hard if it means alienating one of our most successful authors. That’s just the business.”

  Michelle gripped the notebook she always brought with her. “Does he want her career to die? Does he want to punish her?”

  Gwen laughed, a forced, wooden sound. “So melodramatic! It’s just a simple apology. And I’m sure you can shift Aditi to a different approach, one that showcases her book better. Maybe she can point out the romance, the exoticism of the setting, perhaps. How about a travel magazine? We could pitch ‘locations that inspired the book’ or something to Travel + Leisure.”

  “Travel + Leisure?” Michelle yelped. “She’s gotten more than two hundred and fifty thousand views, and you want me to shift to Travel + Leisure? It’s epic YA fantasy! Since when is her audience Lexus-driving white guys earning more than three hundred grand a year?”

  “No need for sarcasm,” Gwen said sharply. “I’m sure Pam can help you come up with something effective.”

  Michelle gritted her teeth so hard she was surprised something didn’t crack. “We’ll come up with something.”

  Gwen looked relieved.

  “I am not going to apologize, however,” Michelle said, and Gwen’s face tightened up like a prune again. “I didn’t do anything wrong. We could shift Sterling to Jacobsen—he’s a man, Sterling ought to like that, and he’s junior enough that Sterling will be able to boss him around. He’ll like that even more.”

  “Again, he’s one of our biggest authors.”

  “He’s a sexist asshole.”

  Michelle felt her eyes open wide, and was sure her expression probably mirrored Gwen’s shocked one. She rarely cursed in front of Gwen. It was something her mother had drilled into her: Keep it business-like, keep it professional. If you get too casual, no one will take you seriously. Be cool, calm… and professional.

  “Sexist asshole” certainly lacked all three of those elements.

  “He’s a massive income generator,” Gwen said. “Is he… problematic? Yes, I’m aware of it. I’ve worked with him for years. I was one of his first editors, did you know that?”

  Michelle nodded. Everybody knew that.

  “We met when he was writing for some ’zines—back when they were print.” Gwen’s expression turned hazy with reminiscence. “We were just two crazy kids who both loved sci-fi, before it was considered artistic. Literary people spat on us, but he was creating some beautiful prose, while still cranking out a body of work that was downright Asimovian.”

  Michelle gritted her teeth again. She didn’t want to walk down this memory lane. She wanted to talk about Aditi.

  “He’s a legend in the field, and he and I have a lot of”—Gwen cleared her throat, and Michelle could swear there was the hint of a blush on the older woman’s pale cheeks—“history.”

  Michelle stared. “Are you saying you…”

  Fucked that guy?

  “… were involved?” Michelle edited.

  “No! God, no.” Gwen shook her head. “But I’ve known him for thirty years. We’ve been to the same cons, we’ve worked with the same publishers. We’ve been closer than just professional colleagues. I’d say we were friends, of sorts. Which is why I am well aware of his… trouble areas.”

  Trouble areas. Gwen was basically equating Sterling’s rampant sexism with something annoying but superficial, like love handles or an oily T-zone. Michelle fought hard not to roll her eyes, schooling her face to stay impassive.

  “Because I’ve worked with him for years, and because of what he’s devoted to Faraday over the course of his career—and because of my history with him, and our friendship—I agreed to meet him for lunch yesterday,” Gwen continued.

  So that’s why Michelle hadn’t been able to meet with Gwen yesterday. Sterling must’ve gotten wind of the article, and then immediately called Gwen to heel.

  “He expressed his displeasure, very vehemently.” The wince in Gwen’s expression suggested he’d given her an absolute earful. Probably in public. Bastard. “He said he was concerned with the direction that Faraday was going in, and wasn’t sure if his brand of sci-fi was going to be a good fit if we… ah, continued in this vein.”

  Michelle could just imagine. “There are plenty of kinds of sci-fi and fantasy,” Michelle said, glad she managed to keep her tone of voice even. “There’s plenty of room for different kinds of authors.”

  “He pointed out that there were also plenty of other publishers,” Gwen said quietly. “He further added that there are several authors who feel… allied with him. And if he were to leave, they might feel compelled to go with him.”

  And there it was. The threat. The reason Gwen was bending over backward, screwing over Aditi, and insisting on the asinine apology. “He’s got an option book. He’s under contract.”

  “We both know there are ways around that,” Gwen said. “He said he’d turn in the most… well, problematic book we’d ever seen as his option, if we continue pushing Aditi’s ‘agenda.’ And then he’d turn around and sign something with one of our competitors, a multi-book deal.”

  Good riddance.

  “He also pointed out that the income he provided certainly more than made up for the skills of a relatively new editor.” Gwen didn’t look at her when she said the words.

  Michelle felt her stomach drop.

  He’s threatening my job.

  She felt… helpless. Powerless. Angry? Absolutely. But the bigger emotion was that she felt
trapped. That fucker would have Gwen fire her, if push came to shove. All because he felt slighted.

  Jesus.

  Michelle thought about the mortgage on the tiny apartment, which she was now going to carry since Ted had moved out—the apartment they’d only been able to purchase with help from her mother, she thought bitterly. She was hoping the divorce would be relatively amicable, but there were still going to be legal fees, since she was sure as hell getting a lawyer. She wasn’t going to let Ted take advantage of her, and the man was used to cutting sharp deals. There were also everyday living expenses. New York was not cheap.

  She needed the job. If she got fired after only a year in… God. And if Sterling decided to gun for her personally? What would that mean? What would he do?

  She gritted her teeth.

  “So… this apology,” she said, bile churning in her stomach. “Are we talking written? Or do I need to call him?”

  Gwen sighed. “He’ll come in for it.”

  In person? Jesus Christ. Jesus. Christ.

  Michelle bowed her head.

  “Fine,” she said. “Schedule it, and let’s get it over with.”

  ADITI

  She should be writing. She knew she should be writing. So why was she here fucking Cuddlebug?

  She frowned. Cuddlebug was pumping away like a champion. She’d come, so her head was already cleared and moving on to the next thing. She shifted the emphasis. It wasn’t why was she here, fucking. It was why the hell was she still coming back to Cuddlebug?

  She’d gone on Tinder again, but she’d been so damned stressed. She was over the inconvenience. One guy was a big talker but didn’t show. Another used a photo from at least two decades prior and about forty pounds lighter—and then had the gall to make comments about her weight. Finally, one looked like a total serial killer, and she’d ditched him before he figured out who she was.

  Cuddlebug was a known quantity. And, let’s face it, the guy was a great lay.

  He made the face, and she felt him strain against her as she rose up encouragingly. Then he collapsed, breathing in shuddering gasps against the pillow. “Damn, baby,” he rasped. “So good. You are so damned hot.”