Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Diva?” Janine asked. “No. He’s just…different.”
“Different how?”
She shrugged. “It seems like any time you talk to him he doesn’t want to be present in the conversation. Like you’re annoying him. He’s too busy for you, basically.”
You know what they say—don’t meet your heroes.
I emailed him again.
Mr. Hamilton,
I haven’t had a response from you, so I wanted to check in again. Could you give me an update on the manuscript? Will it be finished soon? I would love to jump on a call and discuss the specifics. I can even begin to edit whatever pages you have. As a big fan of your series, I can be used as a sounding board as well.
Eagerly awaiting your reply,
Emerson Lane
There was still no response, not even a week later. I decided to take it a step further and call him directly. Most of the time, we didn’t call authors because they were all introverts who were overwhelmed by simple conversations, but Derek Hamilton was forcing me to push when I didn’t want to push.
He answered. “Derek.” His voice was deep, and he sounded young, not what I imagined. His photograph wasn’t on the back of his novels, so I had no idea what he looked like. Based on the quality and depth of his work, I assumed he was a middle-aged man who had a lot of life experience.
I didn’t say anything at first, because I was caught off guard. “Mr. Hamilton, this is Emerson Lane. I’m your new editor at Astra Books. How are you?”
Silence.
“Hello?” Did the line go dead?
“I’ll submit the book when I’m finished.” Click.
The phone started to beep when the connection was severed. “Did that bastard just hang up on me?”
Janine chuckled from her desk, her eyes on her computer. “Told you. He’s different.”
Now that he knew my number, he didn’t take my calls at all.
Who the fuck did he think he was?
Calling got me nowhere, so I emailed him, unable to keep the hostility out of my tone.
Mr. Hamilton,
It looks like we got disconnected the other day. I would really appreciate a completion date for this installment of the series. You’re already two months late, and there are other people in this office who are depending on this information to prepare for publication, publicity, and advertising.
Please get back to me.
Emerson
That email went unanswered…like all the others.
I was still a fan of his novels despite his arrogance and disregard for other people because he was that good. But I started to hate him a little bit. “His address is on his paperwork. I’m just going to talk to him in person.”
“Whoa.” Janine turned in her swivel chair to face me. “You can’t be serious.”
“I can’t get a response out of him, and Mark is breathing down my neck.”
“But that’s…a little weird.”
“What else am I supposed to do? I’ve emailed him a dozen times, and he won’t take my calls. I can’t even give Mark an update about the manuscript. This guy is making me look like an idiot, which is bad since I just started here.”
Janine shrugged. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”
“I’m just going to do it.” I shut down my computer and grabbed my bag before I left the office. It was the end of the day, so I would stop by on my way home. He was a writer, so he was probably home right now since he didn’t have a day job. Well, I assumed he didn’t. Based on his sales, he definitely didn’t need one.
I walked up to his building then greeted the doorman. Once I stepped into the nice lobby, I realized this wasn’t an apartment building. Based on the fresh flowers in large vases, the nice Turkish rug on the floor, and the elaborate area where the mail was located, with a person working behind the desk, this was a high-end piece of real estate.
Probably the lobby for a bunch of fancy condos.
He sold a lot of books…but not that many books.
His address in our file only had the location of the building, but I had no idea what floor he lived on or what unit number belonged to him. I went to the woman sitting behind the mail counter. “Hello, I’m Emerson Lane with Astra Books. I came here to see Derek Hamilton but can’t remember which floor he lives on. Could you direct me?”
She stayed seated behind her desk, looking up at me like I was a nuisance. “I can’t give out that information.”
“I understand, but I’m with his publisher. I’m here to see him—”
“Miss.” She rose to her feet. “I have a lot of high-profile clients in this building, so I’ve seen this act before. You think you’re the first to pull a stunt like this?”
My eyes narrowed. “I’m not pulling any stunts—”
“The answer is no. Please leave.” She sat down again.