“And I came to breakfast with a love bite,” I went on. “And let us not forget, there were flowers on our breakfast tray, and those were all Chassie. What’s good for the gander…” I let that trail.
“I mean, seriously, Battie,” Prue chimed in, “we’re all going to be in this house, filling it with babies eventually. And we all know too well you know how that comes about.”
I looked to her, happy she used the word “we’re” and hoping she’d eventually go on the prowl.
I wondered what her guy would be like.
Doing this, I watched her pop her head up to look out the window again before she took to her boat-shoed feet.
“They’re out of sight. I can still see them, but they’re closer to the house than the studio now,” she announced.
“Stop stalking them,” Battle ordered.
“But, Battie—” she tried.
“Let it play out however it plays out,” Battle continued being bossy, though I knew that particular tidbit cost him.
Prue heaved a sigh.
I got off the floor, sat beside Battle and changed the subject.
“Hey, thanks for letting me read your book,” I said to Prue.
Prue stopped looking annoyed at her older brother and got fidgety.
“It’s fantastic,” I went on.
She stopped being fidgety and stared at me.
“You think?” she asked.
“No. I know,” I told her. “The story is great. I’m totally into it. It pulled me in immediately. But the illustrations are life, Prue. So gorgeous. Have you approached a publisher?”
“I—”
“You should get an agent. They’ll be better able to negotiate a deal for you.”
Battle’s pissed vibe was now gone, and as I spoke, he stroked my back.
“Do you really think I should…try to find…uh, somebody?” she asked hesitantly.
“I think you’ll have a bidding war. Your work is better than Lore Olympus, and I fucking love those volumes.”
“Better than Lore Olympus?” she breathed.
Oh yeah.
I knew she loved those books too.
I probably should have gotten a hint she was into graphic stories with how much she loved that one.
“It’s a different genre, so not easy to compare, but yes. Your work is really that great. I can get my agent to get in touch with you. I don’t know if she does graphic novels, but she’d know who to refer you to.”
“I didn’t give my book to you so you’d?—”
“I know, Prue,” I cut her off. “I also know I never approach my agent unless I believe in what I’m going to pitch her. I believe in your work. If you want to share it, I think publishers would fall all over themselves for the opportunity.” I smiled at her. “And I kinda love you, therefore I wouldn’t blow sunshine, get your hopes up. If I didn’t have total confidence in what I was saying, I wouldn’t say it.”
“Oh, Vivi!” she cried, raced across the space, and threw herself at me.
