Professor Feelgood (Page 18)

“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.

<Dear professor, if you’re screening me because other publishers are chasing your book, please don’t. I deserve a chance to prove I’m the one you should sign with. I would appreciate you not shutting me out of this process.>

“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.

<Not dodging you. Busy. Will call in ten minutes.>

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.”