Page 25 of The Write Off

“I can’t believe one of the Chads is actually named Chad!” This might be the best day of my life.

“I thought you said Sundays were boring,” Logan says, eyeing me as I attempt to regain my composure.

“Logan…did you just make another joke?”

“Not intentionally.”

The confused look on his face sends me into another round of laughter and I lean on the bar to catch my breath. Logan watches me, looking as amused as I’ve ever seen him. I wipe my eyes as he starts to put his laptop away.

“I should get going. Do you think we could meet again before Thursday?”

Right. The dreaded meeting with Bryce. We really are on a deadline.

“I’m free tomorrow.”

“Ten o’clock, at my office?”

I nod, picking up the twenties the guy left on the bar. “I’ll see you then.”

He shrugs on his coat, but he doesn’t leave. After an extended pause he says, “Rilla, I apologize if I overstepped just now.”

“Are you kidding? That was amazing. I’ve never had my honor defended so valiantly. In fact, my ten-year high school reunion is coming up this summer. I’d love for you to come as my bodyguard. There are a few girls who were mean to me and you can overstep all over them.”

His mouth quirks, like it always does when I’m amusing him, but he doesn’t want to admit it. With a nod, he says, “Anything for you, Kitten.” And then he’s gone.

Chapter 12

Logan

“This might sound crazy, but I think we’ve got something really special here. This kind of thing doesn’t happen every day. It’s rare. It’s a gift. And I’m so grateful we’ve found each other. That all of our hard work will pay off when we share this gift with the world. I’ve actually got chills right now. That’s how excited I am. Tell me I’m not alone in this. Do you feel what I’m feeling? I mean, really feel it?”

All I’m feeling is an overwhelming desire to punch Bryce in his permanently smug face.

He was fifteen minutes late for the meeting that he insisted upon. As we waited for him Rilla made a joke about how being late was her thing and how dare he try to play her role. He finally burst through the conference room doors with the swagger of a late night host greeting his audience. You would swear he expected us to jump out of our seats, clapping and dancing to the house band.

In the last fifteen minutes, we’ve been updating him on our progress with Rilla’s manuscript. He’s interrupted both of us at every possible opportunity. Never with anything helpful or important; the jackass just loves the sound of his own voice.

I won’t mince words: I don’t like Bryce, and I never have. He’s the definition of style over substance. The man has never had an original thought, but he’s all too eager to take credit for yours. And if the idea flops, he’s the first person to throw you under the bus.

Bryce got his position at Thompson And Daye through family connections and he is the first person to volunteer that information. His grandfather founded the company and Bryce wants everyone to know it. He needs them to know it. Look at me. My ancestor accomplished something and I’m reaping the rewards.

All our hard work. Bryce hasn’t done any work on this book. The last time I talked to him he hadn’t read it, and I very much doubt that has changed. While he holds the title of publisher, he leaves the heavy lifting to his higher-ups, choosing instead to act as their lap dog. From what I can tell, the only things he reads are their feedback. But he’ll be first in line to accept the praise when Of Cinder And Sand takes off.

And it’s going to take off. I’m more sure of that with every day that passes.

Rilla glances at me before turning her attention back to Bryce. “Um…yeah. I’m feeling good about it. We’ve made a lot of progress in the last couple of weeks, I think.” She looks back at me for confirmation.

“Definitely,” I agree nodding at her. We met in my office on both Monday and yesterday, exchanging ideas and problem solving. Since letting down her guard with me, she’s become an overflowing fountain of creativity. When a problem arises, she comes up with several alternative options without struggle. It’s been amazing watching her mind work; I feel lucky to be part of the process.

That’s not to say that it’s been all clear skies and smooth sailing. She continues to be very protective of her work and any criticism, regardless how constructive, is met with borderline hostility. Still, we’ve been able to work through our differences of opinions, thus far.

“We’re almost finished with the requested revisions. Everything is on schedule for release at the end of the year.”

“Well, that remains to be seen,” Bryce says without taking his eyes off of Rilla. He doesn’t mean that. Release schedules have already been set. He’s just reminding both of us that he’s the one in charge. “When can we expect to see a completed manuscript for book two?”

Rilla continues to play with one of the cuffs of her blouse, tugging at it and fiddling with the button. I wonder if it’s new since it doesn’t appear to match her usual aesthetic. “I have my schedule mapped out and I’ll have it ready for October.”

Bryce leans forward and places his hand on her forearm giving it a squeeze. I sense her stiffening across the table, and my grip tightens around the pen in my hand.

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