Key. Chapter Six: On Contract

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Chapter Six: On Contract

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I was insanely nervous as I sat in the fancy restaurant’s bar with a glass of wine. Drawing my finger over the edge, I tried to clear my head. I wanted to appear calm and collected, even if my mind was a jumble of yarn. I didn’t drink any, just staring at it.

After a minute, I checked my lipstick in the tiny compact from my purse. It wasn’t going anywhere. It was a nicer one Tanya had given me. She had also helped me do my hair, making big fat curls that sat on my shoulders. I snapped it closed, quickly shoving it away in my bag again.

“Ms. Swan?” A gentleman said from behind me. I turned to face him, and he smiled widely, his eyes glowing with expectation. “Hi! I’m Eric Yorkie,” he began as he held his hand out to me in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He was a handsome, young, Asian man with sleek black hair that was perfectly styled in place. His suit looked tailored and very expensive, blue with a thin silver tie, and his shoes were shiny leather. Everything about him was immaculate.

I took his hand slowly and shook it. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Yorkie.”

“Please, call me Eric,” he grinned as he ducked his head for a moment. “Shall we?” He asked, waving his hand towards the lobby. Standing, I picked up my glass of wine to take with me. I would need it. “I’m really excited you agreed to meet with me so quickly, Ms. Swan,” he continued as we walked together. His fingers were a few inches away from my back as if he was still guiding me even though he wasn’t touching me.

“Bella,” I corrected weakly before clearing my throat. “Well, I won’t have a chance for a while otherwise. I’ll be in New York for an undetermined amount of time,” I explained before we stopped at the hostess stand. No one was there. “I’m leaving on Monday.”

He laughed and almost rolled his eyes at himself. “Oh! Well, I’m actually from New York. I flew down here to meet with you. I think I might have been able to save myself the trek.” He leaned in as if he was telling me a secret. “That’s okay. I love these little day trips. They’re fun.”

“You flew down here to meet with me?” I had assumed he was from Dallas or maybe somewhere in Texas. He had arranged the trip quickly. He really did want to talk to me.

“Oh, yes,” he hastily remarked. “Only for the day. I fly back tomorrow,” he informed me. The host finally came to the stand. He beamed at them pleasantly. “Hi. Yorkie. Party of two.”

I said nothing as we walked to the table. It was hard not to nibble on my bottom lip anxiously. But that would mess up my makeup. It wasn’t that powerful.

We sat, the big leather-bound menus laid in front of us. He didn’t pick up his. Instead, he gazed at me with a smile. “The Rabbit in the Snow is the best thriller novel I have ever read,” Eric declared when we were alone.

“Wow. Really?”

He nodded thoughtfully, leaning in again so he could speak in a lower voice. “It’s my favorite genre, but it’s not normally the field I work in. But when I came across your book, I knew I needed to get the rights to this. And my bosses agree. Personally, I think it’s better than The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and The Da Vinci Code.”

“No,” I automatically laughed. They were best-selling books from A-list authors. It wasn’t better than theirs. 

“Those are great stories, don’t get me wrong. But this will be the next big thing. I can’t wait to see who they cast in the movie,” he answered with a chuckle as he sat back in his chair again.

Picking up my menu, I was uncertain what to do or what to say to him. “How did you come across my novel exactly? I’ve never sent anything to your publishing company before.” I hadn’t even heard of it before he called. They were a legit publisher, though. But that didn’t mean he was.

He followed suit, opening up his menu. “Normally, I work in the true crime genre. We also put people together with ghostwriters for novels. I’ve been following the I-90 Tracker case for months now, but when the woman who figures out the killer is a writer…” He trailed off, smiling to himself. “Well, I need that story. I wanted to see if maybe you could write your own book about the experience, which I still do, but I wished to know how strong of an author you are for myself. Self-publishing is a bit of a mixed bag of results. And baby, I’ve got to tell you, if it’s half as good as your other work, you could be the next Ann Rule.”

“I don’t really want to write true crime,” I mumbled, the words automatically coming out. “And I don’t know if I have enough information to compose a whole book about the experience, especially right now. We’re still kind of in the middle of it.”

“Oh, yeah! Of course! Not right now. That’s down the line. After the trial. The entire story. What I want to start with is your novel. I’d prefer to have that out before your true story, anyway. I’d like to offer you twenty-five thousand dollars in advance with the standard ten percent royalties for the first five thousand that are sold. It goes up to fifteen percent after that. With the attention you’ll be getting because of this case, I don’t think that’ll be a problem, though.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I couldn’t speak. The waiter came to the table. “Hi! What can I get you to drink?” He spoke too loudly, making me jump.

“Water,” I choked out, taking a big gulp of my wine. “Please.”

“I’ll take a sweet tea, please,” Eric answered, shutting his menu after he left so he could give me his full attention again. “So, what do you think, Bella?” He was going to get right down to business.

“I think I need more information and time to think about it,” I admitted to him. “That is a lot of money, and I don’t know what it entails.”

“Yes! For sure! That’s wise. I can give you a copy of the contract to look over,” he stated, pulling something out of his leather briefcase. He quickly slid the folder to me across the tabletop. “That’s yours for your lawyers to check. But I think you’ll find that this is a generous offer for a first-time author.”

Swallowing, I nodded as I looked at the manila folder. “Yeah, I know it is. Maybe a little too good to be true.”

He shifted in his chair again, tilting in excitedly to whisper once more. “I wanted to get to you before someone else scoops you up. It’s only a matter of time. I’m honestly surprised no one has-” Eric stopped himself from rambling. “And I’m shocked you’re not too busy doing interviews to talk to me!”

“Interviews?” It wasn’t like what I was doing with the bureau was keeping me too occupied.

“Yeah, the news has to be crawling all over you.”

I shook my head. “The FBI advised me not to.” I had only gotten a few calls, and I always responded with ‘no comment.’

“They’re trying to keep this as quiet as possible while they get their ducks in a row, but I’ve got some inside sources, doing what I do. But once the trial starts, everyone will know your name and what you did. And they will want to know everything about you. Ugh, a novelist who gets interested in her boyfriend’s case and works on it on her own and uncovers the killer! I fucking love it!”

“I didn’t find him. I just found a case that made me feel strange. Jasper is the one that figured it out. I only told him what I was working on,” I finished in a rush. “I don’t deserve any praise for this. I did nothing.”

“You saved two girls’ lives.”

“He did.”

“Because of you,” he immediately countered. “See, this is part of the story. I’d want to know all the details. Which made you feel ‘weird’?”

“The Bree Tanner case,” I confessed. I probably shouldn’t have told him that, but it just slipped out.

“Oh! Yeah, that was his first known victim. I’ve been doing my homework,” he chuckled. “King is such a perfect bad guy. Rich and insane with a stupid name. The public will love watching his privilege get checked.”

I looked down at my menu again. “If that happens. There is still a trial. He could go free. Something could happen.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “I doubt that.” I did too. But I wouldn’t tell him that. “Either way, it’s an interesting story and a future bestseller.”

“Are you ready for me to take your order?” The waiter asked as he popped up again with our drinks. I hadn’t even read the first page of the menu. I shook my head.

“I’m sorry. We’re doing a little business. Can you give us a few more minutes,” Eric responded confidently, not looking at the server but at me. The man nodded and left us alone. “I feel like I’m staring at the next Stephen King or Agatha Christie.”

“Agatha Christie is the best-selling female writer of all time.”

His smile grew. “For now.”

I laughed at his arrogance. “Have you read any of my other books or stories?” I questioned as I sat back in my chair.

“Not yet. But if you sign that contract, I will. This is just the beginning.”

I brought my thumb up to my mouth before I realized what I was doing. “Is it only for the one book?”

“Yes.”

“Will it be printed as it is now or…?”

“It’ll run through a couple of our editors to catch typos. I don’t want a single thing to change about the plot. It’s perfect as is. I only caught a few mistakes myself, which is impressive since you were doing it alone. I started off as an editor myself,” he explained, taking a sip of his drink. “Mm, southerners make such good tea,” he mumbled.

I opened the folder that contained the contract. My name was on the front, as was the title of my favorite story I had written. My eyes slid over the typed lettering. Twenty-five thousand was almost as much as I made in a year. It would be the most I made, without royalties, on a single novel. But I wouldn’t rush into it.

“What if I only want to do one book through you?”

“Well, that would be your choice, but hopefully, we’ll build a profitable enough relationship that you won’t feel the need to go through another publisher,” he said smoothly. “As your agent, I could take you places. But there would be no hard feelings if you did. It’s business, and you have to go where the deal is best for you. That’s why I’m coming to you now with such a good offer. I want you to see that we try our best to keep our novelists happy.”

The words hung in the air for a long moment. I closed the folder again. “Let me look over it more thoroughly, and I’ll contact you with my decision once I get settled in New York?”

“Excellent! Yes! That’s perfect,” he eagerly agreed. He had such a bright smile, his teeth too white. “If you have questions during that time about it, about anything at all, please feel free to call me.” He passed me his crisp cream-colored business card from his jacket pocket.

With a nod, I took it and put it and the file into my purse. I almost wished I could pick it up and just leave, but I knew that would be rude. I was nervous that I would say something stupid after everything went so well.

“Now, let’s figure out some grub! I love southern food so much. I was glad you wanted to come to lunch,” he explained, opening up his menu. “I am going to order half a cow.” I giggled, making him look up at me with a pleased grin. “What are you thinking? Do you like steak?”

He tried his best to have a normal conversation with me. I did what I could to keep up, even though I was feeling very timid. I always felt so awkward about my work. Briefly, I wondered if he knew about my smutty stories, but I decided not to bring them up since he didn’t. He only cared about the one.

When lunch was over, he escorted me to Jasper’s beautiful blue BMW. I had almost gone in my truck, but I was glad I didn’t. He opened the door for me and bid me a good day like a gentleman. I watched him walk to his rental car and drive away.

When his vehicle was no longer in sight, I pulled out my phone. My finger hovered over the keys for a long time, debating whether I wished to call Jasper or just text him. I knew he wouldn’t mind either, even if he was busy. And though I didn’t want to interrupt him, it was all too big to keep to myself. He was the only one I wanted to tell.

Finally, I gave in to the urge. He answered on the second ring. “Hey, darlin!”
​
“Hi,” I replied meekly, happy to hear his voice. “Am I bothering you?”

“No, never. I was just having lunch. How did your thing with the publisher go?”

Swallowing, I took a deep breath. “He wants to buy my book. The Rabbit in the Snow. He said it was the best thriller he’s ever read. He called me the next Agatha Christie,” I got choked up. “He offered me a crazy advance for a first-time author. I don’t know if he is for real, though.”

He hummed for a moment. “Give me his name and all the information you have on him, and I’ll run a background check.”

“Can you do that?”

“Darlin, that’s half my job. You bet your sweet ass I can. Especially since he’s some random guy sniffing around my woman.”

I scoffed at his joke, but it put me at ease. “I don’t think he was interested in anything but my novel. He didn’t flirt with me at all.”

“Good. Let’s hope he keeps it that way,” he quipped.

Giggling, I leaned my head back against the rest. “Would you mind looking at the contract when I get up there? I’d like your opinion.”

“Of course. If you want, I could have Emmett look at it, too. He’s amazing with that sort of thing. Actually, he has a degree in business and contract management. That dumbass is surprisingly smart,” he explained before pausing. “Do you not think he’s the real deal?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I think he might be, but I don’t want to get my hopes up yet, you know?”

My boyfriend sighed. “I can understand that.”

“He seemed professional. I’m just paranoid,” I breathed. “What if he is for real, Jasper?”

He chuckled warmly and sighed once again. “Well, I guess your book gets published, and I’ll be the first in line to buy it. But see? I told you it would only be a matter of time.”  

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Thanks to Gina for proofreading this chapter!

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