Professor Feelgood (Page 74)

“Why didn’t you?”

He turns to look at me “Because I was almost positive you’d reject me, and no matter how much it hurt to suspect you didn’t have those kinds of feelings, it would have killed me to know for sure.”

He continues gazing at me, and dammit, I can’t help but stare back. I should still be angry, but it’s almost impossible to block out our connection when he’s so close. It’s like all the good times we had here are infusing us with nostalgia, inviting old secrets to be confessed.

“I wish you had knocked on my door,” I say. “So many nights, I’d lay awake, knowing you were just a few yards away.”

He moves his arm so his hand is right next to mine. “Do you remember the night you and Jeremy had a huge fight about how flirty Shelley was with him? You barged into my room and slammed the door in his face.”

I remember it well. “I was so furious he couldn’t see why it was a problem, I had to get away from him.”

“And you knew running to me would piss him off.”

I blink, surprised he was so far off about my motivation. “That’s not why I came to your room.”

“Then why?”

“Because … I missed you. And I knew I’d screwed everything up between us and I hated it. And because I knew …” I link my pinky finger over his. “I knew that if I’d chosen you, I would have never been treated like that.”

He gets the faintest hint of a smile “You didn’t say a word to me. You just climbed into bed beside me, turned your face to the wall, and closed your eyes.”

“And you ignored me.”

He makes a noise. “I can assure you, I didn’t ignore you. The moment you stepped into my room, everything else ceased to exist.”

“You didn’t talk to me. Or comfort me.”

He slides his fingers between mine. “I couldn’t. If I’d touched you, I wouldn’t have wanted to stop. If I’d talked to you, I would have confessed everything.”

“Maybe if you had, I wouldn’t have gone back to Jeremy.”

“And maybe you would have. And I wasn’t brave enough to take that risk.”

We stare at each other for a few more moments, then go back to looking at the ceiling, our hands still linked.

“I’m sorry I screwed everything up,” Jake says. “But I promise, I’m going to fix it. I used to be okay with being alone. I’ve had plenty of practice. But finally getting to have you and then losing you? Not going to happen.”

Maybe it’s the attic, or the lights, or the optimistic child in me, but this time when he says it, I believe him.

TWENTY-FOUR

____________________

The Impossible Dream

I KNOW I PROMISED JAKE I’d stay away from Whiplash this morning, but how could I? There’s more than just the book or my job on the line; the future of the whole company is in jeopardy. Everyone here has been working their asses off to ensure the launch for the Feelgood book would be as massive as possible. Hundreds of bloggers are ready and waiting, the press has been foaming at the mouth to release excerpts and previews, millions of fans are literally screaming for it, and retailers are already talking up exclusive in-store promotions. I feel sick when I contemplate them all finding out that the book’s not coming. Even delaying it for a few days would cause a massive cascading meltdown that would put the final nail in Whiplash’s financially-strapped coffin.

That’s why I need to be here. If this situation explodes, and I know it’s going to, I have to take my share of the fallout.

The smart choice would be to keep my head down in my cubicle until the final verdict comes down, but I’m too nervous for that. Instead, I’m pacing, all the while keeping an eye on the elevators. Jake and Serena went up to Mr. Whip’s office over an hour ago. Is the fact they didn’t throw him out on his ass after five minutes a good sign? Or should I be concerned that all they’re doing is talking in circles? Not preventing the inevitable crash but simply delaying it.

“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Whiskey? Horse tranquilizer?” I turn and see Joanna standing a short distance away, watching me wear a path in the carpet.

“You heard?”

“Everyone has. Devin made sure of that. He was almost gleeful about it.”

“I’m sure he’s loving seeing me fail, considering I ‘stole’ his promotion.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s part of it. But I think he’s even happier to see Whiplash fail.” She gives me a look that implies she knows something I don’t.

“My curiosity is officially piqued. Spill.”

She comes over and looks around to make sure no one can overhear us. “He got smashed at the Excellence in Publishing awards. Went home with a friend of mine from Little Brown. After he completely failed to get her off and blew his load in record time, he started dropping hints that his days at Whiplash were numbered. When she prodded him, he admitted that he and his brother, who works at Random House, have been planning on starting their own company. Devin is furious his uncle hasn’t recognized him for the rock star he considers himself to be, and he’s sick of being a soldier instead of a general. Of course, if they set up their own shop while Whiplash is still in the picture, there’d be all sorts of family drama. But if it goes under …”

She doesn’t need to finish the thought. I used to suspect Devin was sabotaging the Professor Feelgood deal, and now I’m sure of it. Taking away the life preserver that’s keeping his uncle’s company afloat is a great strategy to clear the way for his own publishing house. Asshole.

“Anyway,” Jo says, “I’ll let you know if I hear anything else. Right now, I need to head out.”

“Where are you going?”

She presses the elevator call button. “To fetch Devin his favorite double mocha latte. After all, he’s not going to ingest these high-potency laxatives I just happen to have in my pocket of his own free will.” She gives me an innocent smile. “Can I get you anything? Apart from bowel-exploding vengeance, of course.”

I smile as she gets into the elevator. “Nah, I’m good. See you when you get back.”

She waves as the doors close, and after she’s gone, I lean against the wall and sigh. Stressing this much is exhausting. I wish I could crawl under my desk and sleep for a week.

As I’m standing there, the strangely comforting strains of Fergus swearing at the photocopier echo down the hallway, and it makes a lump form in my throat. Whiplash is more than a company. We’re a family. And if we’re forced to all go our separate ways, a lot of people are going to be hurt.

I step away from the wall when I hear the elevator arrive, but when I stand in front the door expecting to see Jake, I’m confronted with a stern-faced Serena instead.

“He’s still talking to Robert,” she says as she passes. “My office. Now.”

I’ve never seen her like this, and knowing I’m partly to blame makes sweat prickle my spine.

I follow her into her office and close the door before sitting in the chair opposite her desk and waiting as she works on her computer. From her expression, I can tell she’s not getting the answers she’s looking for.

“Do you know why we have deadlines, Asha?”

“Yes. Because there are a thousand moving pieces that need to fall into place before a book can be published.”