I was left with was an empty hole where just a day earlier, my heart had been so full. Everything felt so fucking desolate.
I found myself getting out of a cab in front of my brother’s park avenue apartment building sporting a pint of Crown Royal in a small brown paper bag that was tucked into the pocket of my black Canada Goose parka. I was finally starting to feel a slight buzz and so the pain of the day’s events was dulling. Now, I was mainly pissed.
“Fucker must be richer than God,” I muttered. Looking at the impressive steel and glass structure. I craned my neck to look up and the top disappeared into a hazy fog. Maybe it was a low hanging cloud. The hell if I knew.
I walked into the lobby and past the desk, nodding at the doorman. The older security guard knew me, though I hadn’t been there in probably a year, and he acknowledged me in return.
“Is Jefferson in?” I asked, strolling by.
“Yes, sir. I’ll announce you,” he said, picking up the phone to call my brother’s apartment.
In a matter of minutes, my brother was yanking open his door and scowling at me. His manner of dress was casually elegant. Dark slacks and a dark grey half-zip wool sweater in a fine herringbone weave. I had a discerning eye and I could tell that damn thing was probably cost at least a grand. It was early evening by now and he was obviously on his way out.
My brother’s blue gaze roamed over my unkept appearance and the coat I was wearing with disapproval. “What the hell? You look like you just got dragged in from Antarctica!”
“Ha. Ha,” I huffed, walking inside without an invitation. “I need to talk to you.”
“It will have to wait. I promised mother I’d meet her for dinner to discuss some charity thing.”
“Jesus. Hobnobbing with Mom’s Philanthropy Club, now?” I rolled my eyes and pulled out the Crown from my coat and took a pull, holding it out to my brother. “Want some?” I asked.
“No, thanks. I prefer my booze in a crystal tumbler.” My brother looked agitated.
“Is this about that woman? Is she still playing hard to get?”
His apartment was a lot like mine, and a lot like the man. Neat, sparse and elegant with gleaming wood floors, modern furniture, high ceilings and tall windows with a magnificent view of Manhattan.
“Yes and no.” I sat down on his low leather sofa, leaned back and sprawled my legs out in front of me. I took another swig from the bottle in my hand. “What do you call this color?” I cringed, looking at it. “Baby shit, orange?”
My brother’s expression filled with anger. “Look, for bursting in here unannounced, looking like you came straight from Tennessee, it must be more important that all this B.S. Can you just cut to the fucking chase, Jax?”
I hooked an elbow over the back of his couch. “Gloria fucked me over and now I need a legal Pitbull.”
“What is it about?” I could see Jefferson’s legal Spidey sense starting to rise. He loved a good fight. I’d give anything if this was all a bad dream, but since it wasn’t, I knew my brother was the one to get me out of it.
“She stole a manuscript from one of my student’s and passed it off with the publisher as mine.”
“How did you find out?”
“The editor sent a copy of the edits to me ahead of schedule. Gloria must have thought it was something else, or she wouldn’t have forwarded on.”
“That bitch is stupid. If she wanted to blow you up, why would she do that? She would have been smarter to take care of it all until the book miraculously appeared on bookshelves.”
I was incredulous. “Whose side are you on?”
“Well, yours but I deal with devious fuckers every day of my life. I can’t do anything about this until Monday morning, so call my secretary and I’ll have her fit you into my schedule.”
Heat from the coat I hadn’t take off was getting to be too much. I sat the bottle down on the coffee table in front of me and flung off the heavy coat. “This can’t wait!” I demanded.
My brother stood and walked across the room to the wet bar on one side of the room. This place was the perfect bachelor pad, I thought. Even more so than my penthouse.
He returned with a tumbler half full of ice and scotch. His face was more serious. “What is the situation with the contracts? Did the woman sign a ghostwriter agreement?”
I sighed. “I haven’t seen her contract, but Gloria insists she did.”
Jeff sat down across from me in a matching chair. “Well, bro, what does yours say? Is there a clause that says if you miss a deadline, she can use a ghostwriter?”
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I was furious, but I felt exhausted and disappointed. And sad that Addison automatically thought the worst of me. “I don’t know, Jeff. I want you to represent the other writer!”
Realization dawned on his face. “Oh shit. Is that student you’re banging?”
My heart fell to the pit of my stomach and I flushed. When he put it like that, it sounded really horrible. “Yeah. Oh shit.”
“Fuck, Jax. You really know how to get your balls in a vice.” Jeff shook his head.
“It’s not like I saw this coming. I was in Tennessee writing for that damn deadline. I was blindsided!”
“Well, the first thing I’ll need is a copy of her contract, but if she signed it, it might be above board. Likewise, if you’ve got that loophole in yours there might not be anything, we can do about it.”
Anger burst within me and I jumped to my feet, scowling down at him. “Look, if I wanted someone to tell me to roll over and take it up the ass, I wouldn’t have come to you!”
“Hey, slow your roll.” Jeff held up his hands. “I didn’t say I couldn’t try to find a way out of this, I just said I need to see the fucking contracts, and maybe they’re iron clad. That includes agency and publisher agreements.” My brother was calmer than I was, but then it wasn’t his life that was about to be ruined.
“Oh, that’s another thing; Gloria forged my signature on the new book contract.”
“I thought you had a standing one with your publisher? What about the deadline?”
I was pacing back and forth in front of the couch I’d just vacated. “Kind of. Simon & Schuster has first rights of refusal on any new material, but the details on each new book or series has to be worked out on an individual basis. I knew they wanted something from me by the end of this year, but I instructed Gloria to move it back. Apparently, she sent over a contract with delivery dates on them and a copy of Addison’s manuscript, and Marcia must have signed it. She’d have no reason to doubt the validity. I’ve been with then since day one.”
“Well, I’ll have to file a motion to make them withhold publishing while we sue the agency. Will they work with you? What’s your relationship like?”
“I have a good relationship with my editor, Jefferson, but this is a huge wheel in motion, and the publishing house will lose a gargantuan amount of money unless they can drop something else into its place. It’s slated out months ahead of time. It’s not just Marcia’s decision.”
“If Gloria just sent them the contract, then surely it’s not on the schedule this quickly?”