Professor Feelgood (Page 4)
Of course, Devin is also supremely confident, mainly because he’s the nephew of our CEO, Robert Whip, which means his upward career trajectory is pretty much guaranteed. Devin’s not a bad editor, but he’s not great, either. The thing that sets him apart from pretty much everyone else here, though, is his supreme self-assurance. In the words of my wise grandmother, “Oh, Lord, give me the confidence of a mediocre man.”
Despite his family connection, I doubt Mr. Whip would go full-on nepotism and give Devin a promotion he didn’t deserve. And yet, Devin’s wearing a smug expression that triggers my early-warning system.
He crosses his legs. “What Serena didn’t tell you is that Uncle Robert has turned the interview process into a challenge. The candidate who brings in a project with the most potential to be a bestseller gets the job.”
I stop typing and turn to him. This is new information. “What?”
This is not good. In regular circumstances, I have absolute faith I’d get that job in a heartbeat, but finding a bestseller? That’s like asking me to pull a leprechaun out of my armpit. Some of the most experienced editors here still haven’t landed a bestseller, and they’ve been trying for years.
Why do I get the impression that Devin had a hand in helping Mr. Whip come up with this cockamamie plan?
“Yep,” Devin says as he reaches over to pick up my Shakespeare bobblehead. “Serena will be issuing a memo any minute now.” He twangs Willy’s head and watches it bounce. I grind my teeth. I don’t like anyone touching my Willy. Also, once when I quoted Macbeth to Devin, he thought it was Game of Thrones, so he absolutely doesn’t have the right to fondle the Willmeister.
Just in time to avoid incurring my growing wrath, Devin puts Willy back on the desk and stands. “Anyway, just thought you should know. Seems like it’ll be you and me duking it out for that job. It’s a good thing your crappy taste in books means I’m likely to get the win.”
I glare at him. “My crappy taste in what now?”
“Aw, come on. You know you have a soft spot for that romance crap. I see you devouring it every lunch hour and coffee break. Personally, I wouldn’t be able to stomach reading the same unrealistic bullshit over and over again, but if mommy-porn is your thing, who am I to criticize?”
A flush of anger hits me, and I stand to face him. “If you’d ever read a romance novel, Devin, you’d know that there’s a hell of a lot more to them than just erotica. They empower and inspire women. They comfort us, and yes, they sometimes arouse. I can’t believe you have so many ignorant pre-conceptions about an entire genre, especially considering ‘that romance crap’ is what keeps this publishing house afloat. Year after year, romance sales prove that the purchasing power of women is ––“
Devin holds up his hands. “Whoa, okay, okay. Settle down, sweetheart. I didn’t realize dissing your precious romances would unleash the beast. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get so fired up before.” He leans forward. “It’s incredibly hot.”
For the first time ever, I put my hands on Devin Shields, specifically, on his shoulders to push him away from my desk. “Get out, Devin. I don’t have the patience to deal with you today.”
He gives me a hurt expression. “Are you mad? Because if that’s the case, I’d be more than happy to meet you in the supply room so you could punish me.”
I let out a breath and push my glasses up my nose. “It’ll be punishment enough when I get this promotion. Now you should probably leave before I call HR and inquire about our sexual harassment policy.”
That gets me a bit of a sneer. “Jesus, Tate, learn to take a joke. I think you’re just uptight because you know I’m going to get this job over you. Don’t worry, I’ll be a benevolent boss when I get kicked up the corporate ladder.” He smiles again, but this time it’s less friendly. He knows damn well I’m his main competition and that I’ll do everything in my power to beat him. However, he does have a major advantage over me, with his relatives working at three of New York’s major publishing houses. I have no doubt he’s already put in calls to every one of them in the search for the golden manuscript.
I feel like I’m walking into the Thunderdome with a banana nailed to a stick while he’s toting a giant bastard sword.
“See you later, Tate. Oh, and good luck.”
Devin takes one more glance at my boobs before heading back to the other side of the office where his desk is located.
I’m still glaring in his general direction when a memo about the challenge hits my inbox. As I read it, a sick sense of dread settles in my stomach. All the editorial assistants have two weeks to find the project we want to present, and then Serena and Mr. Whip will look at the submissions and judge them on projected sales and originality.
I grab my current shortlist of manuscripts from the file on my desk and head into Serena’s office. Her work space is much like her: slick, modern, and pale. She looks up, unsurprised by my presence.
“You read the memo.”
“Yes.”
She gestures for me to sit. “Do you have any leads?”
“Not really. These are the most interesting manuscripts that have come in recently, and none of them have set my pants on fire.”
I hand her the flimsy single sheet and then sit.
Serena presses her cherry-red lips together as she scans my list. With her platinum bob glistening in the morning light, and her dress being in her usual palette of cream, beige, and white, she looks like a beautiful fashionista angel with blue-rimmed glasses. I’ve never met a woman as put-together as Serena. She seems to float through life with never a hair out of place or even a hint of a stain on her pristine, pale clothes. It’s both inspiring and irritating.
Personally, I go for more of a pre-loved, vintage chic, and end up eating off my crimson lipstick within five minutes of applying it. I’ve learned to never wear white, because whenever I do, I spill things on myself with the regularity of an uncoordinated toddler.
After reading through my list, Serena carefully places the sheet of paper on her desk. “These are hardly exciting prospects.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
“I’ll keep looking. But honestly, Serena, this challenge is ridiculous, right? It’s like saying that someone who’s lucky enough to buy a winning lotto ticket should become a financial advisor. It’s not a logical way to choose a new editor.”
She nods and takes off her glasses. “I know you were counting on this promotion, Asha, but my hands are tied.”
When she hands the list back to me, I scrunch it into a ball. “I know you can’t do anything, but … I’m the only junior you’ve trusted with some of your biggest authors. Devin took three weeks to edit the new fire drill manual. He’d need constant supervision.”
“I know.” She scans the office through the glass wall behind me before leaning forward and lowering her voice. “Asha, you’re streets ahead of the other assistants, but Robert always has to do things his way. Unless you find something that blows him away, I’ll have no leg to stand on. So, you have to deliver, okay?”
I nod, even though I’m not feeling optimistic. “Don’t suppose you have any hints on where I’m supposed to find an elusive bestseller.”