The red-haired receptionist caught my eye. She offered a polite smile, the ring piercing in her eyebrow shifting with the movement. “Shouldn’t be much longer now.”
That was the third time she’d said that, the first time seeming an age ago, although, it was probably closer to ten minutes. I gave her a nod and did my best not to look like I was irritated. I crossed an ankle over my knee and tapped it in time with the ticking of the clock while I asked myself that same question again. Why was I here? Was it just company policy? Or maybe… a bubble of excitement rose within me as the thought arose. Did they want to negotiate a longer book deal? So far, I’d signed individual contracts for the three books I’d published with them. Perhaps they wanted to discuss a three-book deal, or maybe even five books.
The door to the right opened and Lee, the head of acquisitions, appeared in the doorway. He shook the hand of a woman in a long black coat as they said their goodbyes, and once she’d walked away, he looked my way. “Nathan, I apologize for making you wait.” He stepped to the side and gestured to the room he’d just left. “Do come in and have a seat.”
His office was noticeably bare. I didn’t know what I’d expected. Lots of books, maybe. It was a publisher’s office, after all. But the walls were mostly blank except for a large photograph of London Bridge, which seemed an odd choice when you could see the real thing if you traveled just a few streets.
I lowered myself into the blue padded chair, Lee seating himself in a matching one on the opposite side of his desk. And then there was silence. I cleared my throat. More silence.
Lee finally sat forward, as if he’d just remembered that this was his office, and he was the one who’d scheduled this meeting rather than the other way around. He smiled. “It’s so good to meet you in person after all this time.”
I returned his smile, nerves making the action feel forced. We’d had numerous conversations before, but they’d all taken place over Zoom. That’s why I was finding it difficult to understand what made this one different. At home, I could have had the meeting over and done with in ten minutes, and already be sitting at my desk with a coffee.
Lee steepled his fingers together and flashed another smile. “We loved your first book here at Blue Wolf Press. As you know, it did very well. The readers loved the characters, and that twist at the end… Well, it knocked their socks off. So we were more than happy to publish books two and three. You’re aware, of course, that those didn’t do quite as well.”
I frowned. Where was this going? “That’s normal, isn’t it? With a series, I mean? Book one is still selling strongly, so that will bring more people to the series, and book four…” I stopped as Lee’s face creased into a slight grimace. “You don’t like book four?”
“Book four is…” Lee looked like he was picking his words carefully, my palms starting to sweat as the truth of why he’d felt the need to have this meeting face-to-face finally dawned on me.
“Book four is what?”
Lee’s mouth twisted. “There’s no easy way to say this, Nathan, so I’m just going to come out with it. We have decided that in its present state, we won’t be able to offer you a contract for it.”
I blinked, the words solidifying in my chest. I’d spent the last eight months writing that book. It had taken numerous caffeine-fueled nights to meet the deadline they’d set for me. I’d locked myself away and I’d barely seen anyone. I had friends who’d stopped calling me because they knew I wouldn’t make time for them. I hadn’t dated. I’d barely spoken to anyone, except for Lloyd, and that was only because he’d cut himself a key for my house and insisted on turning up to “remind me that people existed.” But I’d met the deadline. And it had all seemed worth it at the time. Except, now they didn’t want the book that I’d sweated blood and tears over. I went back over Lee’s words, picking them slowly apart. “What do you mean by in its present state?”
Another grimace. Lee didn’t seem to be enjoying this meeting very much. That made two of us. “It’s…”
I leaned forward, my fingers curling into my palms hard enough for my nails to leave dents. “Tell me. I can take it.” Actually, I wasn’t sure I could, but it seemed like the right thing to say if I wanted to get information out of him.
Lee lowered his hand to the table, his fingers tapping out an uneven rhythm, his gaze fixed on something just over my right shoulder. “I don’t want you to think this is just coming from me. I had another of our editors read your manuscript, and they agreed with me.”
There seemed to be a lot of words coming from Lee without any actual meaning attached to them. I made my question more direct. “What’s wrong with it?”
Lee pushed a single sheet of paper across the table toward me, his gaze returning to mine. I picked the paper up to find it had writing on both sides. “There’s a more detailed breakdown on there. I’ll e-mail you a copy as well. But if I was to summarize, I’d say it just lacks life when it comes to the characters. There’s a lot of action and drama, as there always is in your books, and in the first three books that rang true. But in this book, it just doesn’t seem to affect anyone. They’re the same people at the end of the book as they are at the start. I guess what I’m trying to say is, there’s no character growth. It’s almost like they’re cardboard cutouts.”
Cardboard cutouts. Ouch! While Lee had begun this conversation reluctant to give me bad news, he seemed to have warmed up to the point where he could toss brutal words out rather casually. I wasn’t about to sit there and take it without sticking up for myself. Not when he was being unfair. “The book takes place over five days. You’re expecting people to change in five days. That just doesn’t happen.”
Lee gave me a long stare. “You think after everything they experienced, the kidnapping, the discovery of the real mastermind who had been behind everything from the start, the unexpected death of a family member, that they would be the same people? There are far less catastrophic events that change people in a much shorter time.”
I shifted on the chair. “I don’t agree.”
Lee looked thoughtful. “Well… we’ll have to agree to disagree on that. What I saw, and what the other editor saw, were a group of people going through the motions. A group of flat and lifeless people.”
Wow! He was really twisting the knife now. It made me wonder again why we couldn’t have done this over Zoom. It would have been far less embarrassing. I guess company policy was for rejections to be face-to-face. If only I’d known that before. I might have been better prepared mentally for this meeting.
Lee smoothed an errant lock of hair back behind his ear. “How’s your home life, Nathan?”
I blinked at him. “My home life? What’s that got to do with anything?”
He propped his elbows on the desk, the expression on his face deliberately earnest. “I’ve worked with other writers, who when they have things going on at home, it reflects in their writing. Your writing just seems a little jaded, and I wondered if there were perhaps events in your life making it that way. Sometimes, it’s better to take a step back and fix the problems at home first. Clear your mind, so to speak. Refill the creative well.”
I stared at him, heat creeping slowly up my neck. When had this become a therapy session? “I had a deadline. One which I met.”
Lee nodded slowly. “True.”
I shook my head. “Besides, there’s nothing going on at home. Everything’s fine.”
“Well…” Lee gestured at the piece of paper in my hand, creases already appearing in it from how tightly I was gripping it. “Take that home. Read through it. And if you decide to make extensive revisions based on my comments, you are of course welcome to send us the revised manuscript and we’ll review our decision.”
I seized onto the tiny glimmer of light. “So… it’s possible you could change your mind about it?”
Lee shrugged. “It’s possible, with extensive revisions.”
He really liked that word “extensive.” I got it. They weren’t going anywhere near it unless I basically rewrote the entire thing. “Right.”
An uncomfortable silence fell between us. Eventually, Lee picked up a pen and tapped it on the table. “What are you doing for Christmas?”
Oh, we were doing small talk now, were we? Now that he’d called my book a piece of crap. “I’m flying to Denver in Colorado. My dad moved there six years ago when he remarried. And my mum died a few years back, so…”
“I’m sorry to hear that. How long are you going for?”
None of your business! I tamped down on the urge to tell him that, or to simply get up and leave so I could lick my wounds in private. I could be polite. For a few minutes anyway. Any longer than that and I might be tempted to ram that annoying pen somewhere the sun didn’t shine. “Just a few days.”
Another tap of the pen. “Maybe you should fly out earlier. Take a break somewhere. Somewhere with lots of fresh air.” He smiled. “Maybe that’ll get the creative juices flowing again.”
I didn’t return his smile. “Maybe I will.”
The next few minutes passed in somewhat of a blur. There was more small talk, but I couldn’t have said what we’d discussed. There was a handshake, and then I was finally able to leave, my steps hurried as I breezed past the receptionist without saying goodbye.
I managed to keep a lid on my emotions until I was finally out in the cold December air, the steady flow of people making their way past me on the busy London street oblivious to the man staring into the distance as he tried to decide what he was supposed to do now. Maybe making my break longer wasn’t such a bad idea.
I understood all that. Treating customers right was my heartfelt concern. Cleanliness was important in a restaurant, even if we were a second-rate diner.
The problem? Nothing was ever perfect enough for my boss, Carl Denum. Nothing ever could be.
“Don’t you see that speck there?”
“No.”
“Are you talking back to me?”
“No, sir.” I wiped the countertop for the third time. My rag was clean. There was no speck, only a glint of light from the overheads on the semi-damp, shiny surface.
“I’m tired of staff questioning me. You’re one of the worst. You think you can bat your pretty eyes at me? No man should have eyes like that. Are you wearing makeup? No male server on my staff wears makeup. Understood?” Carl’s breath washed over me. Whiskey.
“No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. I mean, I’m not wearing any makeup, sir.”
“Hmph. Looks like you are. What will the customers think?”
“I’m good with the customers, sir. They tip me well, which you should know.”
Carl owned Lights On, a corner diner in the tourist section of Old Towne and, because he could, he kept eighty percent of all the tips his servers made. If we held back, we would be fired.
I found out after I got the job he was a miserable, divorced alcoholic who thought he could get his life back in order by controlling others. He picked on me the most of all the staff and I couldn’t figure out why when I did my job well. I would have quit if I had any other prospects, but for now I was stuck going to work every day until I figured out my own miserable life.
“Are you trying to criticize the way I run my own diner?” Carl asked.
“No, sir.”
“The customers should like you for your service. That’s your job. That’s what I pay you for, not what they pay tips for. Tips are extra for my space, my food, my plates and glasses. Understood?” He was getting defensive. People criticized him for keeping tips. Customers were horrified when they found out and either stopped coming or topped tipping. His wait staff turn-over was horrendously quick. It was a lose-lose situation.
“Yes, sir.”
Carl stuck his nose up and sniffed, then turned, shuffling back to his office.
With shaking hands, I picked up the coffee pot and made the rounds filling customer’s cups. It was still early morning. Not a great way to start off the day.
As I put the pot down, Kelly headed me off around the corner and said, “Blake. Is Carl giving you shit again?”
I shrugged, trying to keep up my smile, and said, “Isn’t he always?”
“Yeah, but he takes it out on you the most. He watches you. It’s creepy.”
“Right now, I gotta have this job. There’s nothing I can do.”
“I know you’re trying to pay the rent for your apartment by yourself after your roomie left.”
Technically, my roomie had been my short-term boyfriend, Ben, but I wasn’t going to correct her.
That was another mistake I’d made this year, other than this job. I’d invited Ben in, becoming enamored with his initial smooth seduction. I hadn’t realized he was doing drugs. And other guys. He paid me half the first month’s rent and then nothing after. Two months ago, I’d asked him to leave. When I came home from work, the apartment had been cleaned out, including my TV and the food in the fridge. He even took my bathroom towels. And my winter jacket. Luckily, I’d had my laptop and phone with me at work, so he didn’t get those.
I was already behind on my rent now, so I couldn’t easily replace any of that stuff.
Kelly tapped me on my shoulder. “Hey, that guy’s back.”
“What guy?” I started to turn.
“You know. The one who dresses in slick suits, is a great tipper and always requests you. The one you like. He hasn’t been in in a couple weeks.”
My face heated when I saw who it was. “Eliot.” I heard my own voice go soft when I said his name. “Yeah, he is a good tipper.”
“Well.” She patted me on the shoulder. “What are you waiting for? Go take his order.”
I already knew it by heart. Two eggs scrambled easy, two slices of bacon, two pancakes, orange juice and coffee. Standard, easy fare. Also, my own favorite breakfast of champions.
My stomach gave a little growl. I’d skipped breakfast this morning. And many mornings before that. Some nights I had pancakes for dinner, but only because they were cheap.
Eliot sat by a window booth, head bent, his tablet in front of him. His light brown wavy hair rippled in the light coming down on him from the lamp over his head. He had a great profile from his perfectly sloped nose to his strong jaw.
My mouth went a little dry whenever I dealt with him. He was a great customer, but his presence exuded such a confident, dominant air that I felt places inside me start to slide to a secret, submissive space I’d never confided to anyone. Sometimes I had to focus to keep breathing around him.
I walked toward his booth with my usual friendly smile. “Hey, Eliot. Good to see you again.”
He glanced up, his dark eyes sparkling. “Blake. Glad to see you. Breakfast always tastes better when you’re my waiter.”
“I do my best.” My stomach took that moment to growl again. I hoped he didn’t hear it.
“So, how are you?” he asked. “Anything going on? Plans for the holidays?”
It was mid-November and everyone began asking those same questions this time of year. I had a pat response which was always, “Hanging with friends.” But with Eliot, I craved to be more honest. Not so he’d feel sorry for me, but because lying to him felt wrong.
“Not sure, yet. I have an uncle who invited me for Thanksgiving, but he lives over two hours away.” That was the literal truth. Except for the part where I said I wasn’t sure. I had no extra money for gas to drive that far for a turkey dinner, so I’d already declined.
His mouth curved up. “Well, me, too. I’ve got relatives a little too far away. And then I have to ask myself, do I really want to see them?”
We both chuckled.
“Well, I hope whatever you decide you have a nice place to be where you’re warm and loved.”
I blinked for a moment. His tone had changed from laughter to serious and was softly insistent. Like he cared.
I rarely received much more than surface, hollow empathy from customers. Sometimes they wanted to tell me more about them than I wished to know, but it was only because they were lonely. Rarely did they want to hear about me or offer more than a platitude for a “good day.”
My eyes began to feel warm because I knew where I was headed after work and on into the holidays. Back to my empty apartment with no bath towels and no TV. My wifi was within days of being shut off as well. And right now, I was down to buying packaged minutes for my phone.
“Thank you. I’ll probably be working here for part of Thanksgiving.” My voice hitched. “But I hope you have a great place to go, too.”
“I mean it, Blake.” The muscles around his eyes softened. “I always wish the best for you.”
He certainly showed it in his tips. Wish I got to keep them.
A tingle started in the top of my stomach, like a tiny spear of adrenaline. I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I forced a grin and said, “So what’ll it be? The usual?”
He looked a little disappointed at my change of subject. “I was thinking of an omelet, actually.”
“Really?”
He picked up the menu and handed it to me. “Well, no. I thought about it for about two seconds. Then I changed my mind. Yes, the usual, please.”
That I could do with my eyes closed.
I went to the back to put the order in the computer and Carl came up to me again. “Less banter with the customers, more order-taking, got it?”
“Got it.” I did not look up from the computer. When my order was complete, I hurried off to other tables.
The cook called out Eliot’s order. I took the plate and set it on a tray. Suddenly, I had an urge to do something different. Something nice for him.
I grabbed the whipped cream from the fridge under the counter and added a quick snowy white frame around the pancakes. It needed more. I drizzled tiny stripes of chocolate sauce on top. I topped off the pancakes with two whipped cream eyes and a smile.
Grinning, I delivered the goods to Eliot.
“That looks wonderful,” he complimented.
“If you don’t like it, I can remake it,” I said.
“No. It’s great.” He ran a finger through the whipped cream and plopped it in his mouth. “I love it.”
“Good.” I leaned in, risking that he wouldn’t freak out. I didn’t know he was gay, but I suspected. My gaydar had always been on alert with him. “I’ll tell you a secret.”
He smiled up at me. “Yeah?”
“No one gets pancakes like this. Only you.”
He laughed. “I’m flattered.” He nodded at me as if trying to communicate something more he was afraid to say. “Thank you, Blake.”
“You’re welcome.” I bowed to him, a little tease, then left him to eat in peace.
The diner filled up and got busy fast. I only had time to refill Eliot’s coffee and set down the black folder with the check in it. By the time I got back to his table, he was gone, his food mostly eaten.
I picked up the folder and opened it. He always paid in cash. I expected to see extra beyond the bill, but my eyes widened when I saw the amount.
He’d left a twenty for a fifteen-dollar bill, but behind it was another bill. Stiff and new. A hundred. My mouth dropped open.
I glanced about, trying to see if Eliot was still on his way out the door. He always tipped well but this—this was too much. He was nowhere to be seen. Taking a deep breath, I stuffed the folder into my apron pocket and began to clear his table.
The rest of the day went by fast. I barely had time for my lunch break.
When my shift ended, I went to Carl’s office to turn in my receipts and tips. It wasn’t a lot of cash because most people paid by card. But when I handed Carl the cash tips separately along with the hundred, he raised his eyebrows at me.
“What’s this?”
“Tips, sir.”
“Someone tipped you a hundred?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t believe it. No one tips that big.”
“I guess maybe sometimes they do.”
“Are you smart-mouthing me again, boy?”
“No, sir.”
“You found this or something, right? It’s not a tip.” He folded it and put it in his own pocket. “I’m not paying you for that. Unless you want to confess that maybe you’ve been holding out on me all this time.”
I gulped and said nothing. I should have stuck up for myself, but I didn’t want Carl to threaten me again. I needed whatever I could get from this job right now.
Carl did a quick calculation from the other receipts and handed me about thirty bucks. “Your share.”
I quickly pocketed the money. Thirty was better than nothing. I could add it to my rent stash and maybe take five of it and get a burger on the way home. I’d had only a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. Carl didn’t allow his employees to eat diner food on breaks unless they paid for it and that was too much for my budget.
It was just after five o’clock when I stepped outside. The weather had turned, and I shivered in my light sweater, sighing and adjusting my backpack. The wind was already whipping up. It was about a twenty-minute walk home. I did not look forward to it.
HL Day
