Professor Feelgood (Page 17)

“Devin,” I say quietly. “He did this.”

Serena raises an eyebrow. “That’s a serious accusation.”

“Well, think about it. Who stands to gain the most if this falls through? And who has family members working at other publishers? It wouldn’t take much to set this up.”

Serena looks past me toward the office doors. “Well, perhaps you’d better keep your suspicions to yourself, until we can find out more. The only thing Robert will take worse than one of his staff borrowing ideas from someone else is unfounded allegations against his nephew.”

I nod, and we continue down the hallway toward Mr. Whip’s office. I’m so shocked and angry, my hands are shaking.

I always knew Devin was a douche, but to actually sabotage my career? That’s a level of low I hadn’t expected.

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.

<Hi, professor. Could you please call me at your earliest convenience? We need to talk.>

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.”