Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“What? No.”
“Look. All it’s going to say is the basics: I will not talk to the media if they call. I will not speak to the press. I will not confirm or deny any relationship. Boilerplate.” He nods as if we’re in agreement.
“Do I have a say in this?”
His face is expressionless. “I’m telling you—as your agent, it is my job to look out for your best interests. And your best interest is ensuring she doesn’t speak to the press about any personal relationships she may or may not have had with you while you were lodging in her house.” He leans back. “You do realize—now that there is a photograph of you at Madison, the press is already sniffing around the girls who took the photo. They’re going to ask questions until they discover Posey’s identity. Then they’re going to find out where she lives and pay her a little visit. If she’s not prepared, she’s going to answer the door and get caught off guard, and say something she’s going to regret.”
He makes a very valid point.
They will find her and they will show up at her house, possibly even the school where she works.
“Why didn’t I think of this sooner?” I’m such a fucking idiot.
“Because you were too busy trying to get in her pants.”
I shake my head. “It wasn’t like that.”
Eli isn’t convinced. Shuffling the papers in front of him, he pushes his chair out and stands. “I’ll have Mary draft up that NDA. You look it over, and I’ll get Posey’s legal name, her email—and you can send it over.”
“It’s Josephine.”
He turns. “What?”
“Her legal name is Josephine.”
Eli looks me over a few moments before scribbling onto the steno pad in his hands.
He clicks the pen closed. “Anything else you’d like to add?”
“No.”
“Good. You have a meeting with the offensive coordinator in half an hour. Go grab a snack, and I’ll meet you in the lobby in twenty. I’ll drop you off on my way to the airport.”
This Agreement is entered into as of the 7th day of May, the “Effective Date,” by and between Duke Tobias Colter, hereinafter known as "Receiving Party," and Josephine Elizabeth Kettner, hereinafter known as "Disclosing Party.” The parties agree to enter into a confidential relationship concerning the disclosure of private, personal, and confidential information ("Confidential Information").
CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION: For purposes of this Agreement, "Confidential Information" shall include all private, personal information Disclosing Party has gained of Receiving Party—verbal, non-verbal, physical, written, non-written, etc. etc.—over the course of his stay at 3849 Lincolnshire Summit BLVD by which Disclosing Party could benefit monetarily or other utility in the business in which Disclosing Party is engaged…
WHEREAS…
VISA VIE…
ET El…
Blah, blah, fucking blah.
Only some of it makes sense to me. I wonder if any of it will make sense to her.
None of it feels right; sending this legal document from a legal team to her email after all I’d done to say farewell was stick a note to her door, but oh well. I’m an obedient little boy now and do what my agent tells me to do.
I make zero changes after Mary sends it over, cringe a few times, but otherwise make no changes.
Hit send.
Block it from my mind.
How is she going to react?
When will she see it?
What’s she going to say?
17
posey
“Is this a joke? This has to be a joke.”
“Is what a joke?”
I’m in my office, and Molly has dropped by, seated in the chair across from my desk, legs tucked beneath her and sipping on whatever kind of hot tea she’s got in her Starbucks cup.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be distracted, but I just got an email from Duke. I shouldn’t have opened it while you were here, but now that I have…”
“What does the email say?” She readjusts herself in the seat, crisscrossing her legs to get more comfortable. “I thought you said you haven’t heard from him since he left.”
“I haven’t.”
Not until now. I click open an email, subject line: Confidential.
“What does it say?” Molly repeats impatiently, always in a hurry to know things.
“It’s…” The words on the screen in front of me look like another language entirely because they are legal words. Formal words like confidential and whereas and notwithstanding pepper the email like a bad rash, convoluted and wordy. “A nondisclosure agreement.”
“What?”
“He wants me to sign a nondisclosure agreement.”
“Why?” Molly is already up and out of her chair, coming around the desk to read over my shoulder. “That son of a bitch!”
She’s already on her phone. “Eli? Babe, you’re never going to believe this.” She pauses. “Duke Colter sent Posey a nondisclosure agreement—can you believe that shit? What an asshole!” She pauses again. “What?” More pausing. “Wait. Are you serious right now because if you are, it’s not funny.”
“What’s he saying?”
She shushes me with her hand, putting a finger to her lips.