“This writer! She’sincredible. Her stuff is so…hot!”
Hot?I thought. “Really?” I asked.
“Yeah. Listen to this: ‘Kelsey stood between Damian’s legs, holding her ground as he leaned back against his desk nonchalantly. “What do you want from me?” he asked her. She considered the question.I want your tongue in my mouth, she thought.I want your hands in my hair, your skin under my nails. I want to pull your shirt up over your head slowly, so I can savor every inch of your stomach, chest, and arms. I want you to pull me in by the hips and stop trying to pretend you don’t give a fuck.She gazed at his eyes, looking into him, piercing the façade and diving into his depths.I want you to pull up my skirt and feel how wet you make me.“What do you think I want?” Kelsey asked in return. Damian smirked a little, the corners of his mouth rounding like a mischievous child. Then, he stood up, closing the gap between them. He placed his sturdy hands on her waist and lifted her up off the ground. Kelsey’s heart caught in her rib cage and, without her even realizing it, her legs wrapped around him. He took three steps forward with her clinging to him and stopped when Kelsey’s back gently hit the wall. Only then did Damian move his lips in to hers. But, just before kissing her, he whispered, “I don’t know. Something like this, I’m guessing.”’ Can you believe that?”
I swallowed. “Damn,” I said.
“Hot, right?”
I reached into my pocket and adjusted my semi. “Yeah. Who wrote it?”
“This new girl, Karlie London. Mark my words, Colin. She’s going to behuge.”
She was right. She pitched Karlie’s debut to Kathleen and begged her to read it. The following Monday, Elle got the promotion that landed her a position as an agent.
Karlie London was her first real client.
I swear, shit like this only happens to me.
Gracie
Damage control:Action taken to limit the damaging effects of anaccident or error.
After hanging up the phone with Colin, I try not to have a full-on panic attack. I’m out, which is probably for the best, because the brisk walk back home forces me to burn off some of the adrenaline that might otherwise pump my fragile heart into an early stroke. I’m tempted to call Lindsay, but also terrified. Still about a week away from my next paltry royalty check, I need to know what this means for theReckless Outlawdeal. One can live from paycheck to paycheck for only so long.
I stare at her name in the contact list on my phone, but I can’t dial the number. I’m just too scared.
Instead, I draft an email. I sit at my desk, stress-eating Cheez-Its right out of the box, contemplating every word of every line. I work on it with the same fervor one might muster when toiling away at a query letter seeking agency representation for the very first time. I never hitsendthough, because every time I think it’s done, panic ensues and palpitations shoot through my chest. The email sits in my “drafts” box, being worked and reworked until the lines all blur and the words stop making sense. When you chew gum for too long, it eventually turns into a flavorless rock. That’s my letter. It mixes an apology with a meeting requestwith an explanation and is cloaked in self-deprecating desperation, with rainbow sprinkles and a cherry on top.
My nervous breakdown is interrupted by a phone call from Colin. Our previous call ended rather abruptly, with me saying something along the lines of, “I gotta go. I’ll call you back.” Because, in my humble opinion, there’s really nothing worse than full-tilt meltdown sobbing in the middle of the street.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” he says. “I spoke to her.”
“Lindsay?” I ask. “Er—Elle? Whatever you call her?”
“Yeah,” he says.
“How did that go?”
“Um, not well, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
“I actuallycan’timagine. So please, enlighten me,” I say.
“Well, I told her that we—you and I—are a couple now, and that I gave you the story that you wrote.”
“And?”
“She accused me of trying to sabotage her career. She said she could sue me for libel, but I reminded her that I’m an attorney, and nothing has been published, so that quieted her down a bit,” he said.
“She’s never going to speak to me again.” My stomach churns.
“Gracie, you didn’t know.Ididn’t know. Nobody knew we were all part of the same fucked-up little circle.”
“Can you explain one thing to me, please?”
“Of course.”
