Page 58 of Not on the Same Page

“You told me that was low.”

“It was.”

“So I raised it.”

She stares at me for a moment longer, then flops backward in the chair, crossing her arms. “Those are really good royalties, too.”

It’s taking all of my effort not to laugh. “You sound disappointed.”

“I am!” she exclaims, then waves a hand in front of her face as if to dismiss the words. “Not at the offer. But I came in here ready to negotiate.” She circles a finger around her lips, as if I hadn’t noticed them. “I put on my good lipstick for this. I was ready for an hour of back-and-forth, at least.”

“You can try for more, but I’ll be honest, I have to be at least a little conservative with our funds. Some of our writers are looking elsewhere for their next manuscripts, and I’m not sure what that’s going to mean for me.”

Trina shakes her head. “No, I’ll take this back to Imani. I can’t imagine her saying no.” She pauses, considering. “A bonus for hitting bestseller lists?”

A smirk tugs at my lips. I should have known she’d find something to negotiate. “I can do a sliding royalty scale, up to twenty-five, twenty, and twenty after she sells ten thousand.” Anticipating the question she’s going to ask next, I add, “For each book, separately.”

“No cash bonus?”

I shake my head. “We don’t have the liquid funds for that, but I wouldn’t be opposed to it for future manuscripts or series after we’re more established.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. She purses her lips as if she’s not quite sure she wants to say the next thing. “You mentioned some authors are leaving… Do you want me to ask around the agency to see if anyone has something in the works you might be interested in? Suzanna has been pushing Starlight and this new Morgan & Danielson imprint, but it might be different coming from me.”

I try not to bristle too much at the mention of the other publisher. The last thing I want is for Trina to mount a campaign against—how did Ryan put it? Trash that takes itself out?

“We’re open for submissions,” I say plainly. “I’d be happy to take a look if they want to send manuscripts my way.”

She nods, her hands still clenched tightly in her lap. The toes of her right foot start tapping, but she makes no move to stand or leave. I can’t say I want her to, but I’m not sure what the next play is, or what she’s waiting for.

Her face contorts, half apology and half pain. And when she does finally speak, it’s a whisper that almost stops my heart.

“We shouldn’t keep doing this.”

21

TRINA

I wasn’t sure I was going to say it until I walked into his office. Joking around with Ryan and negotiating with Casey was a welcome distraction, but the moment I laid eyes on him, I had this inexplicable need to wrap myself in his arms and let him hold me.

No, that’s not entirely true. I can explain it. I watched Casey be Big Brother of the Year. I’ve seen his grief over his mother’s death firsthand several times. And then in a fit of feeling like I should appreciate what I’ve got, I told my aunt she could give my mother my phone number.

And then nothing happened. I mean, my aunt seemed happy, but the Earth didn’t stop moving. My carefully constructed life didn’t come crashing down. I did spend a week jumping every time the phone rang, picking it up with my heart in my throat, only to see that it wasn’t her. And then having to wrestle with how I felt about that—was I happy she didn’t call, or sad? The only thing I could settle on was that this wasn’t fair. I was probably the only one who cared if she called or not, which made me angry. Only to start the whole process over again. And all of that is not to mention the nightmares I keep having about being taken away from my home, probably triggered by that day looking for Robert.

My nails are a mess. The bags under my eyes probably look like bruises. And yet the only thing I’ve wanted to do is talk to Casey. Not even just fuck him, though I want to do that too. But he opened up to me and shared a bit of his family life, and everything was just…fine. We went out to eat like friends, and I went home. That’s it.

I was able to take some of the stress off Casey’s shoulders. Why couldn’t he do the same for me?

And then I’d remember that having a brother with a disability is very different from having an estranged mother with a drug addiction, not to mention a history of being part of a family who didn’t even want me there. He shouldn’t be ashamed of his family, and he isn’t. But I am ashamed of mine.

Telling him about it would maybe be good for me, but it’s so much more than a third bubble of conversation. It’s a whole bathtub, and I’m not sure if the water is warm.

All of this is operating under the massive assumption that we could keep working together if I disclosed any of this, if it led to a deeper relationship than the one we agreed to in the first place. Eventually people would talk, Suzanna would find out, and the one permanent thing in my life would be at risk.

And the bigger problem—the one I have a hard time admitting, even to myself—is what will happen to me if he rejects me too. If he hears about my family and my nightmares and everything else that’s wrong with me and decides it’s too much for him. That he didn’t get into this to be some kind of therapist for someone as broken as me.

So, when I walked in this office and saw him there and wanted for him to hug me more than I’ve dared to want anything in a long time, I knew I had to end it.

And then I tried to explain it, and my words got all tangled, so I switched gears until I could regulate myself enough to say it.