“I don’t understand,” Toni said for what seemed like the millionth time this year.
“Which thing?” Emily good-naturedly steered her toward the exit. “Our driver is at the curb.”
Toni traipsed along with her. “Why do I need to meet them? I signed the contract. They paid the money.”
“Becauseregularpeople want to have a voice in an adaptation of their books.” Emily sighed the sigh of patience nearing the edge.
“I’m regular people.” Toni opened the door for Emily.
“No, sweetie, you’re an academic.” Emily directed her toward the black car.
The waiting driver opened the door and then rolled her bag to the trunk without a word. Lately, cities blurred together into one long line of airports and black cars, coffee cups and room service. Unlike today, everything was usually handled by Eloise—the publicist assigned to Toni’s book. Honestly, it was all smoothly managed a good ninety percent of the time. The trade-off was that it meant grading and writing lecture notes on flights and in hotels—and that she was about to be late on delivering the second novel.
Emily slid into the plush seat beside her. “We can do this, a few stock signings, and then you can take a couple weeks at home to just write.”
“And teach,” Toni added. “I am a teacher first, Em. That’s mydegreeand my focus for thirteen years now. I do all this, and it’s incredible that people liked the book, but what if the next book flops. I can’t screw up the thing I got my PhD to do.…”
Especially because I’m stalled on the sequel.
Toni knew she ought to tell Emily that she was going to be late on the book. She knew it as surely as she knew that she’d do better being the quiet awkward author than she would do being herself at the upcoming meeting.
“They’ve begun casting,” Emily said as the car slid into traffic. “We’ll see some tapes—”
“And they’ll pretend my opinion matters,” Toni muttered. That was a part of this world that she hadn’t expected: everyone from editors to the film producer asked questions as if they wanted answers, but Toni quickly realized that what they actually wanted was agreement.
We love this cover direction. What do you think?
This festival is an excellent opportunity. Isn’t it great that they want you to speak?
I see this with a strong love story. Wouldn’t that have been a great addition to the book?
Of course, it wasn’t what Toni thought, loved, should have done differently in the book. Saying that out loud, of course, made frownsor awkwardly long silences fill rooms, so now Emily attended to critical things or replied instead of Toni. She’d stepped up in a “manage the author” way.
“The main character won’t be straight,” Toni reiterated yet again. There were things Toni could adjust, politely ignore, or whatever, but this detail was writ in stone for her. She met Emily’s gaze. “If they want to change that, I’ll be as loud as—”
“She won’t. That detail was in the contract. They can’t change that.” Emily looked like she needed a drink.
Toni realized that her best friend was nervous. That was unexpected, and Toni vowed to be nicer this time. “You know I do try to be flexible, right? I’ve forced myself to be okay with the historical inaccuracies, the events, the damn woman who insisted I needed makeup for that morning show.”
Emily winced. “There is a clear statement that goes out now for any media events. No makeup beyond a basic foundation necessary only because of set lights.”
Emily and Toni both shuddered a little at the shared memory of someone trying to apply eye makeup to Toni. Gender normative obliviousness was something Toni hadn’t been braced for. Academia functioned differently. At academic conferences, no one gave a damn that Toni’s only makeup was the occasional lip balm.
“The protagonist’s identity was a good clause, Toni. Unless you agree to a change, the character will be true to your vision of her.” Emily smiled more naturally now. “If we hadn’t had so much interest in the rights, that would’ve been impossible, though. You realize that, I hope.”
“I do. I know I have an incredible agent who connected my book to a great film agency who wrote an incredible contract,” Toni said, meaning every word of it. “You are an angel to make things work so well for me.”
“So play nice today. They want you to meet them so they can crow that they won the book and wow you a little. They are under the illusion that you will feel better if you have a voice in otheraspects of the production.” Emily stared out at the impassable traffic and looked at her watch again, but she said nothing. There was something about LA that made travel move at a snail’s pace. New York was bigger, but LA still held the crown for worst traffic.
“So you’re saying it’s my own fault I have to meet them?” Toni chuckled. One of the absolute best parts of this surprise career—aside from the money—was time with Emily.
Emily shrugged, but she was grinning now. They’d had lunches in Chicago and New York, and dinners in Philly and Atlanta, and they’d gone to bookstores in all of the above. And the publisher and agency paid for it. That was the part Toni couldn’t get her head around. Per diems for food—and whisky—and cars and hotels and… it felt wasteful, but this was just a thing that publishers did when they wanted to trot an author around like a prize poodle.
Some people enjoyed it, but for an introvert like Toni it was starting to wear on her. After years of degrees, years working on a dissertation that maybe a dozen people would read in its entirety, all of the attention was nerve-wracking.
“Tell me about things?” Toni prompted.
Emily gave her an unreadable look. “I have an assistant now.”
