Page 84 of Not on the Same Page

The back of my head hits the chair as I stare up at the ceiling, trying to stem the tide of tears that threatened to rise several times during that call. I’m not sorry for bringing up Imani’s concern, but I am sorry Casey ever thought I was insinuating he was bad at his job. He’s as thoughtful with Imani as he was with me, and I’m sure he gives the same care and consideration to all his authors. It was never my intention to suggest I thought otherwise. Truthfully, I didn’t mean to stay away from him for long. I just needed some space to think, and after that stressful conversation, I knew there wasn’t much chance of a peaceful night’s sleep. But after that phone call earlier, I don’t know if whatever happened between us can be repaired. He was acting like I was just another thing on his to-do list to be checked off.

I knew he was too good to be true. I should have trusted my gut. Now, I’ve had a taste of happiness that I desperately want to get back, but I can’t. Maybe we could figure out how to work together, but that doesn’t change this feeling of abandonment that’s all too familiar. First my mom, then Scarlett when she had her breakdown, and now Casey. They say the third time’s the charm, but this is more like three strikes and you’re out. I can’t keep opening myself up like this only to be disappointed. I knew I shouldn’t have in the first place.

There are tears streaming down my face when my phone rings. Like always, I freeze with my heart in my throat. It would be so fitting for the universe to throw me my mom’s phone call right now—a giant kick while I’m already down. But at the second ring, I’m swiping the tears away from my eyes and checking my phone screen to see Suzanna’s name.

I’m not entirely sure hearing from Suzanna is better than hearing from my mom, but I answer it anyway. Duty calls.

“Hello?”

“Do you not respond to your emails anymore?” Suzanna sounds like she passed annoyed about five miles ago and is now rounding the bend into pissed off. I’m glad we’re not on a video call so she can’t see how far back into my head my eyes roll.

“I was on a call with Imani. We were discussing the plan for publicity that just came from Starlight.” I give myself a mental pat on the back for refraining from reminding her that her email came in less than five minutes ago.

“Ah. Starlight. Your publishing house of choice.” She sounds like I’ve just given her the opening she wanted.

I sit up straight in my chair. “What do you mean?”

“I know you didn’t submit Keeper of Secrets to Halo Sun like I suggested.”

This isn’t the gotcha moment she seems to think it is. We talked about this before, but I remind her anyway. “Imani wanted to go with an exclusive submission, and the offer was excellent. She trusted Casey with her work.”

“And I’m sure you did your best to persuade her that an exclusive submission wasn’t in her best interests as a debut author.” Suzanna’s voice is full of sarcasm.

I fall quiet because, no, I did not try to persuade her of any such thing. It was important for her to work with Casey, and I wanted to respect that.

“That’s what I thought,” she says, vindicated. “What I don’t understand, though, is why you had to get in the way of Isabella’s deal with them.”

“Why I…what?”

“Did you or did you not tell Isabella not to consider a deal with Halo Sun?”

“I…” If she’s asking the question, she already knows the answer. There’s no sense in lying about it. “Ashton Cochran has been spreading lies about Starlight and poaching authors. That’s what Imani was so concerned about and why we were talking about publicity.”

“Did you ever consider that they aren’t lies? That Starlight truly isn’t equipped to handle these authors?”

“No,” I answer automatically. I wish Casey could hear it, because I never doubted him. Even if I felt I had to ask the questions, I never thought any of it was true. And now I’m seeing about a hundred different ways I could have broached the topic that would have been gentler and not played into what is clearly his raging imposter syndrome.

“No?” Suzanna asks, surprised. “And why not?”

“Casey and I have worked together a lot over the years,” I remind her. “And even if we hadn’t, it speaks volumes that Ashton has felt the need to talk poorly about him to other authors. Casey would never stoop that low.”

“Regardless, this is twice now that you’ve cost the agency a significant financial loss.”

“What?” I bite out. That’s a stretch. I’m not surprised someone like Suzanna wouldn’t have the same moral grounding as Isabella and me when it comes to which publishing houses we work with. But to say outright that we’ve lost out on some grand payout isn’t true. It’s speculation at best.

“By not using a potential counteroffer from Halo Sun to drive up Starlight’s offer, and by turning Isabella away from doing the same, you’ve cost the agency money.”

“You don’t know that Halo Sun’s offer would have been any better.” I’d be willing to bet it wouldn’t have been, and she knows it. She’s reaching, and I’m not sure why. I’ve consistently been one of her most hardworking and dedicated agents—she’s said as much to me in the past. I have no idea where this is coming from.

“But it could have been. As such, I’m issuing you a formal warning and putting you on a probationary period during which time⁠—”

“Fuck that,” I say without much thought. Too late, I clamp my mouth shut. I hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, but it’s out there now.

“Excuse me?” She sounds genuinely shocked.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I insist. “I’m not sure what your issue with me is, but you’ve been after me since Scarlett announced she’s taking a break.”

“Also costing the agency money, I might add.”