Letting out a deep breath, I stepped back and cleaned off the wall, then turned and grabbed the shampoo. I had a dinner appointment with my literary agent, Gloria, and I’d be late if I didn’t get going. Normally, I dreaded these meetings, but tonight I was anxious to talk about my new student’s potential.
From the state her words brought me to I wasn’t sure there was a goddamned thing I could teach Addison Tomms; her words got my dick hard faster than anything I’d ever read. I read the scene once in my university office behind closed doors, then brought it home, anxious as hell to read it again. There wasn’t even penetration in the scene, but it left me in a world of hurt, and I’d had to sink to self-gratification to relieve the pressure. Gloria and I were supposed to talk about my next book and her plans to put it in front of new publishers, and I hoped we would, but I doubted I’d be able to resist bringing up my new student’s piece.
I let my mind wander as I dressed; choosing dark jeans, a light blue V-neck T-shirt and loafers. Addison Tomms’ bravery and her responses in that first class stuck with me and I’d asked for the first assignment to be handed in so me and my TA, Luke Anderson, could mark them up with traditional editor’s notations.
Obviously, most of assignments were digitally submitted, but they might come upon an old-school editor and so I wanted them to get familiar with traditional proofreaders’ marks.
Personally, I was thankful for digital files. It made things so much faster. My first publisher required me to have the manuscript printed out so he could take it to his weekend home at the Hamptons where his wife banned all things electronic that would distract their kids from family time. At the time, I was annoyed as fuck having to print out and mail four hundred plus pages, but I did understand it and it gave me a better understanding of the editing process and thus a better appreciation for it. I wanted my students to value their editors and nothing did that better than a bunch of red marks butchering up an article or manuscript when the writer thinks their work is nirvana. I did, and I got my ass handed to me, but it taught me to be a better writer. Plus, on this one assignment, I was able to look my students in the eye when it was returned fully graded.
I put a little gel in my hair but didn’t bother to shave, though I was satisfied with the reflection in the mirror, the fine layer of scruff on my jaw was of no concern. I grabbed my wallet and keys from the kitchen counter, then stopped at the hall closet to take out a casual jacket and then left my upscale apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
Gloria chose a little indoor-outdoor Mexican place at the northern end of West Village. I didn’t understand why she always picked these out-of-the-way places. I’d prefer a simple burger at Shorty’s or the Asian bowls at Kobeyaki. I was a Midwestern boy at heart, and though I’d acclimated well to New York life after I’d had my first bestseller and moved to the city for ease of doing national interviews and be closer to my agency and publishers, sometimes, I just wanted to let my hair down.
I hailed a cab and in twenty minutes we pulled up in front of my destination; El Vez. It was a trendy bar and restaurant and there were people dressed to the nines, in business suits and casual attire. Gloria was already standing just inside the door with her phone plastered to her ear. She was always dressed in black, and I guess it did well at offsetting her platinum blonde hair. It was fine and straight, falling to just below her shoulders. I observed her for a minute before she saw me. Thin with small breasts, she was waif-like; the only thing to belie that were her strong muscular calves and toned arms. There was a chill in the light breeze, but her pencil dress was sleeveless.
Her skin was pale and the bright red lipstick she always wore was a stark contrast but matched her long nails. She was talking furiously to some poor bastard on the other end of the line when she caught my eye, lifting a hand to motion me closer.
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Just have the manuscript to me by Friday or you can kiss any chance with Grand Central goodbye.” She listened for a second giving me an apologetic smile as I moved closer. “I gotta go, just remember what I said.” She ended the call and put the phone back in her huge Fendi bag. “Sorry, Jax,” Gloria said. “I made reservations, but if you’d like we can sit in the bar or outside?”
I knew what happened when my agent had too much to drink, but she might be cold outside as the sun set behind the big Manhattan skyline, and I wasn’t in the mood to sit in the middle of the restaurant. “The bar,” I said.
“Okay, just let me tell the hostess,” she said, turning away to speak to the young woman behind the hostess stand.
She nodded, using the computer station in front of her to mark Gloria off of the list, and indicated that we should just go in and seat ourselves in the bar area.
Gloria ordered red wine and I asked for a Corona with lime before the waiter handed us the menus.
“So?” Gloria’s gray eyes lit up and she rubbed her hands together in front of her. “Have you come up with a premise for the new book? Simon & Schuster wants to see something from you before Christmas.”
I shook my head wryly, leaning back in the booth. I was getting sick of deadlines and pressure. “Well, I want a break.”
Concern flashed over my agent’s face. “What? We talked about this already. They want three books next year, Jaxon.”
She was serious when she used my given name. “Yes, but I’m feeling burned out. I haven’t been able to take a vacation that wasn’t book research in almost three years. I’m tired. The storylines they want are tired. Plenty of other authors are writing sex-laced crime drama.”
She studied me for a moment before she responded. “Well… what about writing more erotic romance? To be honest, that’s what the publisher wants, anyway. Ladies’ buy the shit out of romance novels written be men. As you know from your last two books.”
I sighed as the waiter appeared with our drinks. I picked the tiny lime wedge from the mouth of my bottle and quickly squeezed it and then shoved it inside and took a long pull.
“My head’s not really in it right now.”
“Jax.” Her voice took on that authoritative nag I’d come to abhor. “You know it takes a year to get on the schedule. What are you thinking?”
I blew off her protest, casually setting my beer back down and picking up the menu. “I’m sure they have some other writer anxious to fill the slot. Tell them I want to take a year off.”
Her pretty face took on a scowl. “I’ve been working my ass off on this for months!”
I almost laughed; instead I grinned and set the menu aside. “Bullshit. It’s been easy ever since I hit New York Times. If they don’t want me after this, then you’ll get another publisher. Easy peasy.” I looked at her blandly. “Or, I could consider self-publishing.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Gloria huffed. “That’s ridiculous, Jax! You’re my biggest client!”
“Such language from a lady,” I goaded. I knew the money she raked in due to me and my books, and she hadn’t had to work very much for it over the past five years.
“Don’t be a dick,” she spat.
I opened my mouth to answer, but the waiter appeared again.
He wrote down one Smoked Bacon Guacamole for Gloria and an order of Carne Asada Tacos for me. I was used to her eating like a bird and zero carbs. I remembered how unattractive she was out of clothes… so skinny her bones stuck out, and she was worse now than when we were screwing shortly after I’d signed with her agency. That was before I really knew her. I was flattered, living on the high of finally getting published, but the truth was she was about as deep as a puddle. We had nothing to talk about other than the next deadline and how she thought I should exploit my looks to sell more books. I quickly got bored and tired of her. The sex wasn’t even that good.