Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
She was tough and mildly abrasive, like a sandpaper that would wear down the soft wood of pine boards, but oak probably had nothing to fear from her. I liked to think that if I wasn’t oak, I was at least walnut. She might scratch me up a bit, but only just the glossy finish.
I walked into the restaurant she had picked, a lovely, unpretentious bar with gourmet pizzas. I loved lunch meetings with India, because she always knew the best places.
“Sophie, good to see you! How was Christmas?” I lifted my left hand, the weight of my newly-sized ring reminding me of its presence once more. I held my fingers lax at the knuckles and slowly swayed my wrist.
She grabbed my hand and practically jerked me across the table as I sat down. “Good lord. I suppose it was a very good Christmas. Is this meant to be your bonus?”
I laughed, even though I felt a little bad for finding that quip funny. “It’s an engagement ring.”
“I gathered that,” she said dryly. She was almost more British than Neil. “But quite seriously, congratulations. This is a bit like a prize at the end of the cereal box, isn’t it? If the cereal was full of leukemia.”
“Absolutely.” I picked up the menu and scanned for the vegan symbol. Lots of offerings, because India was a goddess like that. I ended up ordering a six-inch soy cheese, spinach, and pine nut pizza, and when the waiter had gone, I shrugged and smiled at India. “So…what did you want to see me about?”
“Well, I have very good news on the initial print run, based on early orders. They’re very good for a debut.”
“Oh. Great!” I’d been hoping this meeting would be about the Wake Up! America audition, but I didn’t want to sound desperate.
“And the publicist from M and R called. She says they’ve expanded the launch. It’s going to be more like a cocktail party with a brief Q and A for the press. I haven’t had a chance to check the attachments she sent me yet,” India admitted. “Things at work have been hectic.”
India wasn’t only my agent or manager or whatever it was she was doing for a cut of my sales. She still worked at Porteras, Neil’s magazine, and walked a very fine line trying to pull off managing my career as a debut author. Neil hadn’t been thrilled, in light of how I’d left his company, that India was working with me. He’d set some very strict parameters regarding the work she did at the magazine and didn’t want to see evidence of the beauty department slipping due to her attention being focused elsewhere.
“I completely understand.” I couldn’t really complain. For a first time author, I was getting a pretty amazing roll out. Granted, most of that was because the book was about a high-profile one-percenter. Because he worked in media, enough people knew of him to make his incredibly personal details a desirable thing to read about. Though the book was my memoir, they would be reading it for Neil Elwood.
“There was another reason I wanted to see you in person today,” India said, and the hopes about audition news that I’d just set aside returned and immediately plummeted. India nodded, as though she saw my disappointment as a physical symptom. “Wake Up! America passed.”
“Oh.” I had the strangest feeling that I’d been punched in the chest, and the wind had been knocked out of me. I’d never been great at dealing with rejection, but I’d never been given a thumbs down like this before. “Did they say why?”
“They just wanted to go with someone who had a bit more broadcast experience.” She shrugged. “We knew we were a long shot, but we gave it our best.”
Though I appreciated the plural possessive, India hadn’t missed out on a job. I’d only been turned down from an interview once in my whole life. I hadn’t liked it then, and I didn’t like it now. Especially when it was too easy to pin the blame on things like my looks or my height or my weight.
Good lord, this was what Holli’s entire job was. How did she survive?
“I think this will be good for you, in the long run,” India went on cheerfully. “You can concentrate on writing. M and R will want a follow up, once they know you’re engaged. Any chance you’d want to write about planning your multi-million dollar wedding?”
“Yikes, is it going to be that expensive?” I tried to laugh, but it sounded slightly hysterical. I was working so hard to keep myself together, and even though I thought I was doing a good job of it, I wanted to die from embarrassment. Maybe India had sensed how vainly excited I’d been over the audition. That would have been terrible. In the face of rejection, I wanted to be cool, like it didn’t matter to me.