Page 7 of Outdrawn

Tyson scoffed. “Since when are meetings with investors, art directors, and editors discussing major IPs “thought exercises,” Sage?”

“Since those meetings include the same agenda for the past year.” Harpy Comics—like most companies—did a whole lot of talking in circles before putting things into action. It was jarring coming from publishing comics on my timeline to that of a corporation. Ever since I signed on as a full-time artist, I’d drawn things that would often take years to go into print.

“I told you, they want to make Queen Leisah part of the starting lineup now,” Tyson said. “So, that means no more waiting around for stuff to get published. We’re not working on low-read comics anymore. From this point on, work's going to feel like an avalanche. Captain Silver is double shipping this season. They want the same for Queen Leisah because they expect the audience to be hungry for it after the rebrand.”

I frowned at the mention of double shipping and almost backed down, because shit, two issues in one week? I’d wanted a faster release timeline, but not one that was fucking light speed.

“I could do that,” I said, focusing hard on keeping my voice steady.

Tyson chuckled. “You could do that? All on your own?”

“Yes.” My tone was harder this time. “What? You don’t believe me? Is that why you requested someone else?”

I’d been in this business long enough to know most things weren’t personal. We were here for the art. Still, something about Tyson agreeing to bring in someone else got under my skin. I’d proven myself for seven years.

I drew Harpy’s silly filler comics and completed hundreds of background pieces for their precious cardboard cut-out of a man, Captain Silver, and that mediocre family of six. I pitched story after story, getting rejection after rejection. I spent so much blood, ink, and tears until I finally got a shot at being the head artist on something big—on Leisah, a comic that hasn’t had official new content since the nineties. I’d been assured my name would be on every issue. I was going to have full creative control. Making Leisah a household name again was going to be my job, a privilege and honor that had gotten me through what was my worst artistic slump of all time.

“She’s a good artist, Sage.” Tyson spoke carefully, like he was trying to calm an anxious toddler.

I glared. “I know she’s a good artist.”

The amused smile on his face made my jaw clench. I took a big gulp of my coffee, trying to burn away the rising frustration. The distance between Noah and I was perfect. I saw her occasionally on the convention circuit, but that was it. That was enough, because any closer, and I’m pretty sure the little patience I had would fade into non-existence.

“Because you went to school together,” he said. I knew bait when I saw it. When I didn’t bite, Tyson continued, “And she’s the girl who almost beat your ranking on Inkmic, the one those readers were saying should be as popular as you.”

I snorted. “She shouldn’t be as popular because she’s not as good.”

Yet. She wasn’t as good yet.

Out of all the artists in the world—hell, the state—why did they have to choose her? Why did it have to be her?

Noah's work helped get me through my fog a few months ago. At rock bottom, I'd turned to her comic, and it'd been the best thing about my day. My obsession with her characters was embarrassing to admit, especially after I'd spent years putting distance between us. The art world liked to compare our work because our styles were similar, but something deep inside me knew she had the potential to be better. My growing love for her story proved that.

“Something going on between you two outside of Inkmic?” Tyson’s forehead furrowed as the humor faded from his face. He was a bloodhound when it came to interpersonal conflict, had to be to manage a team like ours.

He gestured to my face. “You have the same look she had when I mentioned your name.”

“And what look is that?” I asked, more curious about her reaction than mine.

“Disapproval. Should I be worried about you two getting along?”

“I don’t want a partner on this,” I said. “So, yes, you should be worried.”

“Sage.” His gaze narrowed. A ‘be serious’ command clouded his hazel eyes.

I sighed. “She’s here to stay, correct?”

“Of course. Noah is exactly who we need. Who you need to make Leisah work.”

“Agree to disagree.”

“Seems like I’m going to have to implement team-building exercises again,” he decided.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh, God, please don’t. Might as well shove a knife underneath my nail beds.”

“Someone’s got to be the bad guy. Besides, you’ve been kind of…doing your own thing recently. Harry and Seline—”

“I do my work. Are there any complaints about my work?” I sat up and pushed out of the chair, ready to end the conversation. There would be no changing Harpy’s decision to add Noah to our team, no swaying Tyson to my side. So, I’d have to figure out how to deal with her being here and changing all the shit I’d already had planned.

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