Page 2 of Wolfish Player
I say nothing.
“Okay, fine.” She lets out a sigh. “Let’s start with the books that we’ve been waiting on the longest.”
I sip my coffee, hoping deep down that this will zoom by as fast as the other genres.
“The Final Termsby Allyson Harmony,” she says. “It’s the second standalone in an international bestselling office romance series.”
“I remember that one,” I say. “The author didn’t show up to the high-priced re-release party we threw for her.”
“She’s very shy, sir. She always has been.”
“Right… What’s the status of the next book in the series?”
“She was supposed to turn it in last year, but she kept having some personal issues so we kept giving her extensions.”
“That’s not what I asked you.” I lean forward. “What’s the status of the book?”
“She’s requesting an extension via her agent before she reveals anything this time?”
I roll my eyes. “What was her reason last time?”
“Her pet fish died.”
“Excuse me?”
“It was coming off the heels of an intense battle with writer’s block, and she said she needed time to deal with her anxiety.”
Bullshit.
“How much more time is she claiming to need now?”
“A full year.”
I lean back in my chair, jaw tightening. “Remind me how much her deal was worth.”
“Two million dollars.”
“We paid that upfront?”
“No, we only paid half up front. A quarter is due on draft delivery, and we’ll pay the rest on publication.”
“Ifthere’s a publication…” I pull out my phone and venture to this author’s social media. None of her posts feature her face, and she doesn’t have a photo on her “about” page on her website either.
Her bio reads like she pulled it from aHow to Write the Vaguest Shit Everguide:
Allyson Harmony loves writing romance and thriller stories. She also loves drinking coffee with her best friend.
“Are we sure this person actually exists?” I ask. “I’m getting fraud vibes.”
“She’s real.” She shakes her head. “But she’s writing under a pen name. I’d have to look at her contract to see her real name, if that’s what you’re after.”
“What I’m after is this goddamn book.” I glance at the dates on her latest social media posts; she’s posting at least five times a week about “how in love” she is with this story, how the “characters are challenging her to do her best work,” and how “you’re going to LOVE this next office romance,” and yet…
We have nothing to show for it, and she hasn’t sent us shit…
“Would you like me to request a few pages of the manuscript, or do you want to grant the extensions?”
“Neither.” I’ve had enough of this shit. “Get her agent on the goddamn phone.”
