Page 7 of Not a Strong Enough Word

I stand there, staring at her dumbly. “Why did you do this for me? If you had told me to go get a haircut and some clothes, I would have.”

Without looking at me, she tips one of her shoulders up. “Would you have?”

“Yes,” I insist. When she doesn’t respond, I add, “I went grocery shopping when you told me to, didn’t I?”

Her gaze pops up from her phone screen. “You did.”

“I would have done this, too. You’re my agent, not my assistant. It’s not your job to make sure I’m presentable.”

“No, it’s my job to sell your book. And that’s going to go a lot better if you don’t look like you’ve spent five years avoiding the world and holed up in your tiny apartment like a hermit.” A tiny smile plays at those red lips, and her eyes sparkle. “I am your agent, but I also like to think I’m your friend, Scarlett. This is me being a friend.”

“That’s…” I trail off and swallow against the sudden lump of emotion that has lodged itself in my throat. “That’s really nice of you, Trina. Thank you.”

She breaks the emotional moment by waving her phone at me. “I also booked an appointment with your therapist for you just in case this thing goes sideways, which is definitely more of an assistant move. So don’t get used to it.”

My heart starts pounding again of its own volition, and my mouth goes dry. Apparently, I had gotten accustomed to her bravado. “Do you think it will go sideways?”

“No,” she says with what I think is real confidence. “But I also believe in being prepared. Which, frankly, you could learn from. Now, get dressed or we’re going to be late. And you know I hate it when people are late.”

I make my way to my bedroom to hastily dress and brush my teeth. I don’t bother trying to do anything with my hair since a professional will be attacking it shortly anyway. When we leave the apartment, Trina links her arm with mine in a gesture of solidarity that fills me up to the brim. Knowing she’s got my back goes a long way toward making me feel like this is all going to turn out the way she says it is. It feels almost as good as finishing that draft did.

Almost.

Chapter 4

Ryan

It has been days, and I can’t get that book out of my head. The author, S.J., titled it Becoming, which is such a brilliant double entendre for the themes. It’s a sprawling coming-of-age story about a young woman. Haunting in its simplicity, it’s about a young girl literally becoming a woman. But at its core, it’s also about how adulthood suits her. It is becoming on her, in an older sense of the word. The book is an achingly beautiful story of loss and hope. My heart still hurts thinking about the ending.

When Casey had sent over the initial chapters, I skimmed through them on my computer. Then, I read them again. And again, more slowly. It was a little rough around the edges, but it was clear this book had potential. I immediately asked Casey to get the full manuscript. Luckily, Trina acts fast. She sent the whole thing over, and I did something I haven’t done in a long time—I printed the entire manuscript out on the industrial printer in the lounge area. It’s something I only do for books that I have a desire to sit with for a long time. This was definitely one of those.

I took it home and read the whole thing in one sitting. I think it was three in the morning when I finished, but it was worth it. Casey was right—this one was special. I asked him to send an offer the next day.

But now, it has been three agonizing days of back-and-forth. Anastasios Press needs this book. I need this book. The need to get into those pages and muck around within those words to pull out the best version of them is almost an obsession.

From what I can gather, Trina is being a shark about this one. It’s not so much about the money but that she wants an in-person meeting with us. Well, with Casey. She still doesn’t know I’ll be taking the lead on this. From what he tells me, the author is incredibly nervous—almost reclusive—and this request for a meeting seems strange enough that he doesn’t want to drop that bomb yet. Trina has also insisted our publicist be present to talk marketing strategy before anyone signs anything. This isn’t unheard of, of course, but in an industry that relies so much on gut feeling, the fact that Casey seems to think something is up is enough to have me trying to wait patiently for any word from them.

But I also have a gut feeling that this book is going to be huge, even if it’s off to a less-than-conventional start.

After an entire week of that back-and-forth, I find myself restlessly wandering around the office. Margie is still rifling through the slush pile, determined to find something usable, so I don’t want to bother her. Most of the other senior editors are engrossed in something or working remotely while their kids are on spring break. While I don’t want to bug Casey for the thousandth time, I catch his eye from across the room. He has his phone pressed to his ear, but he motions me over. He scribbles something on a pad of paper at his elbow and turns it toward me while he continues to listen into the receiver.

You free tomorrow at one? Trina and S.J. want to meet. Will loop in Meri for pub.

My heart leaps into my throat. I’m sure my schedule is clear, and if not, I’ll clear it. My nod must be emphatic, because Casey huffs a laugh. He must be serious about this, too, if he’s bringing in Meri for publicity. She’s the best we’ve got.

“Yes,” he says into the phone. “Mm-hmm. We will have everyone there.” He pauses for a moment. “No, I don’t think that’s necessary, unless you do?” Another pause. “Okay, great. Thanks, Trina. See you tomorrow.”

The phone is barely placed back into the cradle when I rub my palms together in excitement. “She’s going to take the offer?”

“I wouldn’t go that far just yet.” Casey indicates one of the seats facing his desk, and I sink into it.

“Trina wasn’t happy enough with the outline for marketing you gave her?”

Casey shakes his head, his eyes wide. “I’m telling you, there’s something different about this. Trina is being very cryptic. She says the author is insisting on a meeting before going any further.”

“That’s not unheard of. JMP always liked to pull their authors in for a face-to-face at least once in the process,” I counter.

He purses his lips in thought. “You’re not wrong. I don’t know why I feel like Trina is being weird about this one. I thought it was because she doesn’t fully trust us after what happened with Scarlett”—he eyes me warily at the mention of her name—“but that can’t be it. We’ve worked together a few times since then with no issues.”