Professor Feelgood, Page 8

There has to be some way to fix this, and dammit, I’m going to find it.

  _______________

  Mr. Whip doesn’t get angry often, but when he does, you can feel it in the pit of your stomach. I’m not sure what radiation sickness feels like, but if it’s anything like standing in the vicinity of Mr. Whip’s quiet fury, then it’s hideous.

  He’s sitting as his desk while Serena and I stand in front of him, and I feel like a high school kid who’s been caught scrawling obscenities on the principal’s car.

  “It’s embarrassing enough that I made a fool of myself talking about this book and what an original concept it was. But then to find out a competing house already thought of it and approached the author––“

  “Allegedly,” Serena interjects. “This could all be a misunderstanding, Robert. We at least need to find out the whole story before we jump to any conclusions.”

  “This development puts Asha’s whole promotion in doubt,” Mr. Whip says. “The challenge was for you to find a bestseller. But if you just presented another editor’s idea …” He looks at me and sighs. “Asha, tell me I’m wrong about this.”

  “You are, sir. One-hundred percent. I would never disrespect you or Serena by presenting someone else’s material. I have no idea how this rumor got started, but I can assure you, when we get in contact with the professor, he’ll back my version of events.”

  He nods. “Then you’d better hope we can get through to him soon, because the longer this rumor continues, the more damage it does to our brand and your professional reputation. To put it to rest, we need to get a contract signed as soon as possible. Your projected sales figures were impressive, and if you’ve figured that out, then others have, too. We can’t afford a bidding war.”

  There’s a light knock on the door, and then Craig, Mr. Whip’s assistant, enters nervously.

  “Sorry, sir, but I just received a call from someone at Publisher’s Weekly. They’re trying to confirm reports that Whiplash is in some kind of bidding war with the big five for the Professor Feelgood book.”

  Mr. Whip’s face goes red as he turns back to me. “Goddammit!”

  “I have no idea how this is happening,” I say, feeling more helpless by the second. “But I promise I’ll sort it out.”’

  “You’d better,” he says, before turning to his computer. “Your future here depends on it.”

  With that, he excuses Serena and me, and we walk back to the elevators in shocked silence.

  “This is bad, Asha.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t.” Serena glances at me. “Whiplash isn’t doing well, and hasn’t been for a while now. Robert was counting on this book to drag us out of the red and into the black, and if it falls through …” She takes a breath and watches the digital numbers above the elevator doors. “It won’t just be you on the line. We could all be looking for new jobs.”

  That news makes me shudder. “Things are that bad?”

  She nods. “He’s been putting off dealing with our bottom line for nearly two years, because this company is his life, and he loves all of his staff like family. But the publishing industry is in dire straits, and unless we can find something to keep the wolves at bay, Whiplash as we know it will cease to exist.”

  We step onto the elevator, and as the doors close, the pressure to fix this whole situation makes me feel claustrophobic.

  As soon as I get back to my desk, I grab my phone and try the professor’s number. It goes straight to a message bank.

  “Dammit.”

  I call a few more times, but the result is always the same. Either he’s avoiding me, or he’s on the phone to another publishing house. Both are crappy options.

  I tap out a quick text.

 

  After sending the message, I toss my phone onto the desk and rub my forehead. I’m starting to get the impression that for whatever reason, I’ve been played. I felt so confident about this whole thing, but now it seems I’m being hung out to dry like a handkerchief in a hurricane.

  A large coffee cup lands in front of me, and I look up to find Joanna is sinking into my extra chair with her own grande cup.

  “If you need Valium,“ she says as she crosses her legs, “I can hook you up.”

  “It’s tempting. But what I really need is answers. No one can get through to the professor, and everything is falling apart.”

  “Well, there are a million reasons why he might not be answering his phone.”

  “Such as?”

  She ticks points off on her fingers. “His phone fell on the subway tracks and got smashed by a train; he was hit by a cab, got amnesia, and is in the hospital; he was kidnapped by Armenian pirates. Or perhaps he’s engaging in a spontaneous marathon masturbation session in the shower and isn’t taking calls. The possibilities are endless.”

  “Or,” I say, leaning back in my chair, “he’s being courted by other publishers and is too much of a chickenshit to tell me.”

  Joanna takes a sip of her coffee and nods. “Well, sure, if you want to go with the darkest timeline. Personally, I’m rooting for the shower scenario.”

  I rip open four packets of sugar and sprinkle them into my cup. “If this falls apart and another editor signs him …” I shake my head. “I might actually kill Devin. I mean, I’m not usually violent, but right now all I can think about is kicking him in the crotch so hard his scrotum explodes.”

  “Quite the mental image. Especially considering you don’t know if it was him.”

  “Oh, come on. Who else could it be? He’d do anything to secure that promotion. Plus, since I got back from Mr. Whip’s office, he won’t look at me.”

  “Sure, but that might have something to do with how you’ve been glaring at him like you want to destroy his scrotum. You could ask him about it.”

  “What’s the point? He’d just deny it.”

  Joanna’s phone buzzes, and as she checks the message, her face falls. “Oh, butts.”

  “What is it?”

  She keeps looking at the screen, brows furrowed. “After this whole thing happened this morning, I put out some feelers to my contacts. I’ve just heard from a friend at Macmillan. She confirms that there were hurried meetings this morning about the professor. If they haven’t already made an offer, then one is imminent. She said that there are at least two other houses who’ve contacted him. Looks like this bidding war is a thing after all.”

  “They’ve contacted him? That means he’s just dodging calls from Whiplash.” I drop my head down onto the desk, and it makes a loud thunk. “That’s it, then. Game over.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  I lift my head and look at her. “Come on, Jo. You know as well as I do that we can’t compete if the big kids decide to get involved. We don’t have their distribution, connections, or deep pockets. What could we possibly offer him that they can’t?”

  “You.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Here he can get a rookie editor who’s never had a solo project before. That’s sure to work in our favor.”

  Joanna puts a hand on my arm. “Listen, if he passes over working with you for mere money, then he’s a tool. The man who values money above all else is the poorest among us.”

  I shoot her a look. “Spoken like a true rich person.”

  “Ash, you discovered this guy. You were the one who truly believed in his talent. If he goes with a publisher who just cares about their bottom line, then he’ll regret it, mark my words. I once sold a beloved manuscript to the highest bidder, and the bastards butchered the hell out of it. I barely made the New York Times bestseller list, which wasn’t how I saw my debut novel going, believe me. Thank God I’d insisted on executive producing the movie. If they’d screwed that up, I would have rage-quit the whole industry. And if that had happened, then I wouldn’t have an Oscar sitting on my mantle.”

  I’d call her out on her claim, but I’ve been to
her apartment. She does have an Oscar. I just assumed it was a fake.

  “Okay, I see your point, and just to be clear, we’re coming back to that story later. But for right now, what should I do?”

  She smiles. “Fight for him. Prove that passion is worth more than money.”

  I take a swig of super-sweet coffee and nod. “You know what? You’re right. He’s my author, and goddammit, I’m going to take him back.”

  I grab my phone and type out a text.

 

  “Nice,” Joanna says, reading over my shoulder. “Go get him, girl.”

  I give her a smile, then head into Serena’s office. “Have you and Mr. Whip figured out an advance for the professor?”

  She leans back in her chair. “No. We were going to talk about it this morning, and then everything went to hell.”

  My phone buzzes in my hand. When I check the screen, I see a text from the professor.

 

  Hell, yes.

  “Serena, crunch those numbers now, and do it fast. We’re going to have one chance to land this guy, so give me a figure that will keep us in the game.”

  I’ve never told Serena what to do before, so this is a new experience, but I need things to happen fast. Judging by how quickly she calls Robert and tells him to hightail it to the conference room for an emergency war council, it seems my sense of urgency is contagious.

  When we’re all together, the two of them sit down and discuss dollars, while I wait for the professor to call. I use my time to pair up my phone with our conference call device in the middle of the table.

  “Asha?”

  I turn to see Mr. Whip looking at me.

  “We’re going all-in on this.” His eyes sparkle with either excitement or anxiety. It’s hard to tell which. “Three hundred-thousand dollars.”

  My mouth falls open. “Are you serious?”

  He nods. “That’s more than double our existing record for a debut author, but I think that figure will at least make us competitive.”

  “Okay.” My mind is blown. A year ago we spent a hundred-and-thirty grand on a debut, and Mr. Whip was so worked up about it, we had to call the paramedics to check his blood pressure. Now, he seems fine with blowing that figure out of the water. I guess if the company is truly in as much trouble as Serena claims, then Mr. Whip would rather go out with a bang than a whimper.

  “Would the others offer that much?” I ask.

  Serena shakes her head. “I wouldn’t think so. Not for the idea of a book. If there was a manuscript that everyone was losing their minds over, then, sure. So, even if the professor has been contacted by someone else, I have no doubt this advance will give him second thoughts.”

  We all look at the phone.

  After a tense minute, Serena says, “Unless, of course, he’s already signed a contract.”

  I shake my head. “He didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d make snap decisions. It took me nearly fifteen minutes just to convince him to let me pitch a book. I think he’ll call.”

  The words are barely out of my mouth when my phone rings. I take a deep breath and tap the answer button.

  “Hi, professor, thank you so much for calling.”

  “What did you do?” He sounds tense.

  That takes me by surprise. “I’m sorry?”

  “Did you offer my book around to the whole of New York? Publishing people have been hounding me all morning. What’s going on?“

  “I honestly have no idea. I think someone here leaked information to our rivals.”

  He makes a scoffing noise. “Is that the kind of company you work for?”

  “Not at all,” Mr. Whip says. “Sorry to barge in, professor. This is Robert Whip, and next to me is our senior editor, Serena White.”

  “Hello, professor,” Serena says. “Great to speak with you.”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  “We’re all fans of your work,” Mr. Whip says. “This is my company, and I can assure you this whole incident is extremely out of the ordinary for us. We had every intention of contacting you today with our formal offer, but then events occurred that were beyond our control. I deeply apologize.”

  There’s an exhale. “Okay. So, what happens now?”

  I lean toward the microphone. “Well, before we go any further, can I just clarify something with you? Another publishing house has accused me of poaching you. In other words, they’re claiming they came up with the idea of you writing a book and had already offered you a contract. Is that true?”

  I’m confident that the idea was mine, and yet in the three seconds it takes for him to answer, my heart is in my throat.

  “What the hell kind of people work in publishing? The first person who suggested a book was you, Brooklyn. But this morning, three other publishing houses made formal offers.”

  Mr. Whip swears under his breath. “Have you accepted any of them?”

  “No. But I’m not going to lie, the amount of money they’re talking about is tempting.”

  “Well, then, allow us to formally throw our hat into the ring.” He shoots me a look. “Asha? Would you like to do the honors?”

  I nod.

  Okay, here it is. My very first author negotiation.

  Just be cool, Ash. Woo him with your passion.

  “Professor … uh, sorry. Would you like me to address you by your name?”

  There’s a long pause. “Professor is fine for now.”

  “Okay.” I clear my throat. “Professor, I haven’t made a secret of how much I respect you and your talent. I think your poetry is remarkable, and I have no doubt that if you set your mind to writing a novel based around your travel experiences and losing your lady love, it would be equally poignant and powerful. Whiplash may not be the biggest publishing house in New York, but we’re passionate about our authors, and we’ll work around the clock to make you happy.”

  “Good to know.”

  “If you choose to sign with us, I would be honored to be your editor. I know your style, I understand your rhythm, and I truly believe I’m the best person to bring your words to life.”

  “Okay.” I can feel an air of impatience.

  I take a breath. Dear professor, prepare to have your mind blown.

  “With all that in mind, Whiplash would like to offer you the largest advance we’ve ever given a debut author. How would you feel about three-hundred-thousand dollars?”

  There’s silence on the other end of the line.

  Serena, Mr. Whip, and I share a look. Not the reaction we’d expected. Maybe he’s shocked into silence.

  “Professor?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Just … thinking.”

  “Okay, of course. I understand this is a big decision. That’s a lot of money.”

  “Uh huh.”

  I’ve met some laconic men in my life, but I think the professor is the king of them all. Most people would show at least a hint of excitement when confronted with a small fortune, but I’m quickly learning that this man isn’t most people.

  “Uh … if you need more time, you can always get back to us later today. Or … tomorrow?”

  Another pause, followed by a noisy exhale. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Okay. Great. So, just give us a call when you––”

  “No, I mean okay to the deal. I’ll sign with Whiplash.”

  There are a few seconds of shocked silence, during which we all share a surprised look. Then Mr. Whip clasps his hands together in delight.

  “That’s fantastic news! We’re thrilled to have you on board.”

  “You won’t regret it, professor,” Serena says. “Asha is going to do wonderful things with your words. I have no doubt.” She beams at me. “I’ll start getting the contract together and give you a c
all later today to sort out the details.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Well,” Mr. Whip says, smiling at me. “I know Asha is keen to get started as soon as possible. Are you available to come in tomorrow to meet the whole team? And afterward, you and Asha can get your heads together about some content ideas.”

  “Sure.”

  “Great. I’ll organize everyone for a nine a.m. round table. I look forward to meeting you in person then.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  Mr. Whip and Serena head out of the conference room, leaving me to sign off.

  I’m so excited and relieved that this whole sucky situation has had a positive outcome, I feel like hugging someone. Preferably the professor.

  “Okay, then,” I say, sinking into the chair. “This is turning out to be an amazing day after all. Professor, I can’t thank you enough for joining the Whiplash family. I’m really looking forward to working with you.”

  “Yeah, until you find out how difficult I am. Then you’ll run for the hills.”

  I don’t know if he’s joking or not, but I laugh anyway. “Nothing short of a major felony is going to turn me off, believe me.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  I look up as Joanna sneaks into the room. She grins and silently mimes a touchdown, accompanied by a ridiculous celebratory dance.

  I suppress a laugh. “So, professor, before you go, do you have any questions for me? Concerns?”

  There’s a long pause during which Joanna comes over and sits beside me. We both stare at the phone. After about thirty seconds, the professor says, “Yeah, there is something we need to talk about, but I’d rather do it in person. Can you meet me tonight?”

  Joanna’s jaw drops and she mouths, Oh my God, he wants you!

  I wave her off as my mind races. Yes, the way he said it was stupidly sexy, but we’re entering into a business arrangement, not a relationship. Besides, I already have a wonderful man in my life, and if I can just figure out how to have mind-blowing sex with him, I intend on locking him down.

  “Brooklyn? You still there?”

  “Uh … yes. Sorry. Of course we can meet tonight. It would be a great way to celebrate our new partnership. Just say when and where. The champagne will be on me.”