“You look amazing, Makayla.”
The woman in question blushed and sat in the chair pulled out for her. She had expected a compliment or two; hearing the man speak of her in such a way made her nervous. A soft chuckle left her mouth, and she quickly covered it up with a low cough.
Her date didn’t notice and moved to sit back down. They were in a restaurant that reminded the brunette of the 1950s. The glamour was overwhelming, and the fake animal sculptures made her queasy. This she kept to herself, as it would show just how out of place she was.
Because she was a stranger. Someone who never had her head above the water like everyone else did. She had an average life that she enjoyed for a time, but eventually became sick of. Makayla’s hand trembled as she took one of the free bread loaves given to them.
It felt soft, and the butter was perfectly spread over the top by the restaurant’s tenured team. She was going to take a bite out of it, but stopped when she noticed everyone else. Nobody was eating. Instead, they nibbled and pushed their food around as they spoke.
This place was for appearances more than actual chit-chatting. She wondered why her date had brought her to such a place. Makayla became even more anxious and tensed up. Sweat dripped down the side of her dainty forehead as she started to overthink.
The man noticed and reached across the table. His hand touched her fist, and he helped her let go of the fork she was desperately clenching. Makayla hadn’t even realized that she had been so outwardly scared and felt embarrassed. She sighed and leaned back in her seat to relax.
“I’m sorry. This whole thing has just been a lot for me,” the brunette confessed with the man’s hand, feeling warm against her clammy skin.
He made no move to stop her confession, so she kept going. “When you sent me an invitation to meet, I didn’t know what to expect. I mean, you’re you! You’ve been on the bestseller list a dozen times.”
Makayla had read some of the man’s books as a child, which made it even weirder. Her date was a middle-aged author who had more success than the brunette could ever dream of having. Receiving a message from him was a surprise she struggled to believe for a while.
Only when he had sent a request to video chat did it hit the twenty-something that this was real. Her heart fell into her ass and she tried not to vomit when the man showed up with a smile on his face. The author had read some of her magazine work and loved it.
This led to the offering of a friendly date of sorts, fully paid by him. She smacked herself after the call ended to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Her palms were drenched in sweat when she arrived, and now she had the man touching those wet hands without a grimace.
He chuckled at her, buttering him up, and patted her hand. “You’re selling yourself short here. You’re a spectacular author yourself.”
If Makayla could get to and scream, she would. The twenty-three-year-old had never felt so excited. She was thrilled that someone she saw as her idol could see her work as good. Her body began to tremble, and she managed to keep herself from fainting as she spoke.
“Thank you so much!” The brunette had to thank the man for his sweet words. These compliments weren’t meant to be taken lightly.
He smiled, and a dimple appeared on his cheek. “It’s only the truth.”
Makayla let out a meek, stumbling another thank you his way before shutting her mouth. Her excitement was uncontrollable as emotions stirred throughout her body and ran wild. The man was acting like this was an actual date and not a meeting between like-minded people.
Realizing this made her feel a little woozy. She was saved by a server coming to give them their drinks, and she quickly took a sip. This kept her mouth occupied, and her brain could not embarrass her any further. The cold, carbonated drink replaced her adrenaline with calm.
It tasted strange at first, and she almost spat it out. The brunette managed to swallow it and remarked offhandedly. “That was sour.”
Her eyes widened as the words left her mouth, and they hadn’t stayed in her head like she intended for them to. “Oh goodness. Sorry. That’s rude.”
“No, it’s not rude at all. I like how open you are about your feelings. In your review of the latest Stephanie Lee book, you spoke boldly, and it stood out to me. You captivated me in only three paragraphs.”
“Three? Oh, wow.” Makayla preened from the praise he gave her.
The man had talked to her for a while about her articles and how he found her writing voice-to-be. He described her command of the settings she reviewed as beautiful and intricate. Others might say she was too descriptive, but to him, he found her flowery wordplay pretty unique.
The article in particular, she had gone overboard with her words. She hadn’t liked the book and found the main character to be vapid for the situation she was in. A dark romance with a female protagonist who was supposed to melt the cold-hearted man’s heart. Instead, she was boring.
Stephanie Lee focused all her efforts on telling you how seductive but innocent the protagonist was. She was somehow sly enough to outwit the men after her but weak enough to need the love interest to always rescue her. A man who was a brutish and downright abuser.
Still, Makayla found that the ending of the novel was subversive and had her rereading multiple chapters with a new mindset. She digested the story and devoured each line without breaking a sweat. When she finished it for the seventh time, her review was pure word vomit.
Untamed thoughts with more spelling errors than she and her boss intended to let pass the magazine editor. Reading it would leave you confused at times, as she raved like a fanatic about what she loved and what she despised. It wasn’t even enough to be called an essay.
Because of this, she was spun into a craze to have such a prolific author in the field of short stories and poetry to not only complement what she created but adore it. It made the brown woman turn into a gleeful little girl who struggled not to kick her feet and scream.
“You’re incredibly talented. I was surprised to find that you are an independent writer. I assumed you had a publisher,” he confessed.
She shrugged and answered, rather flustered. “I’m employed at the magazine, but that’s only as an intern. Once this semester ends, I’ll be on my own again. I’ve been rejected by over a dozen agents.”
Getting published was still hard despite new avenues for writers being available in the 2020s. Even if you published online or through an app, you still had to compete against thousands of others doing the same. No matter if you were indie or traditional, it was stressful.
Makayla had pitched something she assumed would be wanted by agents, a young adult novel with fantasy elements. She added in parts of her culture as an African American girl born in the 2000s. Some agents found her worldview intriguing, while others too generic.
All of them had to hand her manuscript back with various notes and opinions. None offered her a contract or hope. “I’ve all but given up.”
“So, you aren’t interested in signing with anyone, then?” he asked with interest as their food was delivered by their eager server.
The question left her silent as she thought it over. She wouldn’t say that she was that far gone yet. “I’d love to have a fighting chance.”
He smiled and asked. “Would you like to work with me, then?”
Makayla stuttered as he rubbed her hand and continued to explain his outrageous offer. “I’m looking for younger, untouched talents to sign to my brand new publishing company. You’d be my first author.”
“Your company?” The offer was one she never imagined would happen. Her throat was dry as she tried not to faint from shock.
He chuckled with that dimple of his showing as he nodded. “Yes. I’ve been working with some friends to publish my works without anyone meddling. They suggested to me that I should create my group of bright writers who would align with my skill set. People like you.”
The brunette let out a nervous giggle and thought about how to respond. She would be an idiot to refuse such a thoughtful offer. To be mentored by someone who knew the ins and outs of the industry, who worked his way up, would be perfect. She couldn’t dream of anything better.
Still, she had to be reasonable about this. Her mother would smack the taste out of her mouth if she found out she signed without reading everything over. While she doubted that he would do such an awful thing to her, she needed to make sure that the whole thing was legal.
She cleared her throat and piped up. “Can you clarify it to me?”
“It? You mean the contract? Well, you will be signed on for just the manuscript you send me. I won’t force you to write anything you don’t want to, but whatever you submit, you have to finish,” he said as his steak knife cut through a slice of rare meat with wonderful ease.
He took a bite of the bloody pink meat and wiped his lips. “If you send me a novella, I expect you to write a novella. But if our editors find that the story fits a novel, I’ll give you the choice in the matter.”
“So, I get a marginal amount of freedom but all the responsibility in completing what I send to you,” she hummed. “That’s pretty fair.”
“If you want, we can have a lawyer present at my office when the signing happens. I implore you to bring your own when the meeting occurs.” His kind words made her feel much more comfortable.
With her peace of mind, she was allowed to eat without shaking. The food was delicious, and she started to feel like she actually could belong in such a fancy environment. She wondered if her manuscript was good enough to earn thousands, if not hundreds, of thousands.
The way the older man was treating her added to this sudden boost of confidence. He was making small talk with her about her life and made sure to meet her eyes when she spoke. He didn’t over-talk her when her stories became boring and took the time to ask questions.
He was someone who lived up to her fantasies. Well, some of them. He ate differently than she imagined he did. All his meat was rare, with his vegetables being untouched like a toddler would. Still, he ate neatly and used the utensils that she didn’t even recognize.
The warning to never meet your heroes didn’t apply here, as he was as nice and human as she had hoped him to be. His face was more bare than she thought it would be. She always thought of him as having grown a beard as he passed his initial debut age of 22.
He had so much success when he was younger than her. You’d expect him to be spoiled as hell, like some authors she’d met in groups and at internships. They treated you like a personal assistant and sometimes clung to you for personal gain. This soured her on making friends.
Still, there were some exceptions, and he appeared to be one, too. She tried to smother the worship however, it was creepy. She felt like a stalker, with how much she knew about him and how deeply she found herself enraptured by his voice. It was so deep with misuse.
Obvious as hell that he was a smoker. Which isn’t a bonus, but she kept this to herself. Instead, she kept talking. “Will we work together?”
“The company is small enough that yes, we will. Think of it as a paid internship that means something besides experience,” he said with that tone, a tone that made her chest feel all squiggly inside.
She squirmed in her seat and gulped. “I’d love to set up a meeting with you to talk with lawyers. This is a lot to take in and accept.” Within an hour, she’d gone from a hopeful to a bestseller.
He smiled and shook her hand. His rough, callused fingers touching her own. “Then we have a deal. Are you free for Monday afternoon?”