Page 21 of I'm Not Done with You Yet

But how could it have performed well when they did fuck all to promote it? Nobody even knew about its existence.

“Hmm. Yeah, going into commercial fiction could be a good move. Move away from lit fic, that’s good. Did you have any pitches you wanted to share with me?”

Ah. Shit. Pitches, right. Shame curdles my gut as it hits me how unprepared I am for this meeting. And as I sit here mentally freaking out, Toni glances at her Apple Watch; I’m taking up too much of her time, she’s got bigger clients to focus on, clients who make seven-figure deals and sell movie rights.

Then, surging through the turgid waters of my senses, an idea leaps out, taking form. I pounce on it. “Um, you know Thalia Ashcroft?”

That catches Toni’s attention, because of course it does. Thalia’s always got this effect on people. Toni turns her face toward me, no longer thinking—for now—how she can get rid of me. “The author ofA Most Pleasant Death? Yeah, I’ve heard of her. Her book’s at the top of theNew York Timeslist. What about her?”

“Well, I know her.”

Toni gives me a wan smile, the polite kind that you give to pathetic people to get them to stop talking.

“We actually went to the same MFA program together. At Oxford. In England?” I don’t know why that came out as a question, but I desperately need Toni to start nodding, and she does, her eyes brightening. “Yeah, we actually lived on the same floor; we were really good friends, really close to each other.”

“Wow, that’s wonderful to hear.” She’s still got that line in between her eyebrows because even though it’s nice to hear that I’m friends with publishing’s next big star, she’s also wondering what the hell this has to do with anything.

“And I think if I could just get to see her in person, we could reconnect and she’d probably want to help promote my books and everything. We were so tight back in Oxford.”

“Why not just give her a call? Did you two lose touch?”

I shift uneasily in my seat. “Sort of. Um, something bad happened during our year, and we were all sent home for a while. I came back the next semester, but Thalia never did, so we kind of lost contact there.”

“You could just send her an email, maybe slide into her DMs?” she says with a smile.

Frustration claws at my belly. She doesn’t get it. “No, I’d rather see her in person—I’m sure she’s inundated with emails and DMs from random people. Anyway, she’s going to be at SusPens Con, so I was thinking if I could get a ticket to go there, I could go to her panel and say hi.”

She nods slowly, hesitantly. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone has a spare ticket. I’ll give you a call once I know. Okay?”

The last “Okay?” was delivered very clearly as a placating goodbye. I’m out of ideas by now, so I just give her a nod andstand up, pretending not to see the relief on her face as she walks me out of the office.

Outside of the building, it takes a full minute before my heart recovers from the painful speed it had been galloping at. My breath releases in a long whoosh. God, I can’t believe I just did that. Just showed up at Toni’s office like that. What the fuck. But even as I think that, a slow smile takes over my face. For once in my life, I put myself out there. I took control of the situation. I was fucking proactive, and I’m about to be rewarded for it. I know I am.

I walk around the area for a bit, looking up at the massive buildings and searching for a bite to eat. But who am I kidding? Everything in this part of Manhattan is out of my price range; even the bottled water is six dollars each, which is insane. And here I’d thought Bay Area prices were out of control.

I’ve been walking aimlessly for about ten minutes when an email comes in from Toni. I open it, mouth dry. I know, as soon as I see the lack of “!” that it’s not going to be good news.

Jane,

What a surprise having you show up at the office today. I made a few calls to see if I could get a hold of SusPens Con tickets. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get any. I think your best bet to reconnect with Thalia would be through email; I think that in general, this is a better way than showing up unannounced in person, especially since it’s been quite a while since the two of you were in touch with each other.

Best,

Toni

The skyscrapers around me might as well have folded over and crumbled on top of me. I feel crushed and humiliated and above all, enraged. This email is a far cry from her usual ones, which always, always start off with “Hi!” and not just “Jane comma.” And her emails have, at minimum, three exclamation marks, always. Even when they’re emails containing bad news, like when I got those bad reviews from Kirkus and Publishers Weekly. She’d said: “Hi! Ugh, we got a bad review from Kirkus, but seriously, who gives a shit about them anyway, right?! They wouldn’t know good writing if it hit them in the face!”

And now, all terse words and awkwardness. I could just—

I was making a gesture, turning up at her office. Aren’t agents supposed to welcome their clients with open arms? Unbidden, Ted’s voice rises up from the depths of my mind, like a noxious bubble popping up from a poisonous swamp.You’re small fry, Jane. Don’t expect too much from her.She’s got bigger clients to tend to. I bet she wouldn’t react like this if one of her bestselling authors showed up unannounced.

I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the thought of seeing his smug face when he finds out that he’s right all along, that I shouldn’t have assumed that Toni would be happy to see me. That all these years of friendly emails were nothing but lies. I wonder if they were even written by her in the first place, or if they had been something she’d delegated to an assistant, or worse, an intern. “Here,” she would have said, “write an email to these clients. Make it sound like I give a damn.”

And like a total idiot, I had fallen for it, thought she adored me, thought we were—ha—friends. The thought of myself, so pathetic and so foolish, makes me want to spit.

But who gives a crap about Toni? So it turns out she doesn’t give a shit, so what? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’mhere, in Manhattan, and in less than twenty-four hours, I am going to go to SusPens Con, ticket or not, and I am going to find a way to get inside, because that’s where Thalia will be, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to see her again.

Nothing.

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