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“Probably some training and some boring lectures about sales numbers,” James responds.
Running my fingers through my hair, I sit back against the back of the bar stool. “This is going be a thrilling week. I can already tell.”
Chapter Fourteen
Grayson
If not for Gregory Johnston, the Operations Director, having a sense of humor, this meeting would be excruciating. It’s 1:45 on Tuesday, we’ve finished lunch and gone over the expansion of Schmidt and Costello. We’re going around the table and making our suggestions of who on our staff would be a suitable candidate for the new branch agent. I’m next and my body is fucking breaking out in sweat. Last night, I was able to avoid my feelings with cold liquor. Now, there’s a festering ball in the pit of my stomach and there’s nothing I can do about it. Unless.
“Grayson, how about you?” Gregory’s voice is like thunder, interrupting my thoughts.
“Rachel Moore,” I reply. “Been working with S&C for five years. She has an incredible skill for recognizing talent. This past year she’s sold thirty-two manuscripts to publishers. Three made the best sellers list.”
Gregory nods, seemingly satisfied. He jots down notes on his pad and switches his attention to James, sitting next to me. Relief loosens the knot in my chest and then it constricts when Gregory looks back at me.
“What about Emma Williams? She’s located at your branch, correct?”
Fuck me. “Yes, she is.”
“What are her stats?”
I clear my throat. “Forty-six manuscripts, five best sellers.”
Gregory looks at me confused. “She sounds like an excellent candidate to me.”
I nod, forcing a smile. “She’s incredible.”
Gregory’s pen hits his pad and I grind my jaw. Damn it.
It’s another hour and fifteen minutes before Gregory releases us from the meeting. Michael nudges me with his elbow as we stand from the conference table. “Want to go out for a drink?”
The tension in my head is like needles being stabbed into my skull repeatedly. “Yes. I could use one or several. Where to?”
“Lorraine’s. It’s a restaurant a couple doors down with a large drink selection and mouth-watering steaks.”
“I’ll be right there. I need to make a call to my office and check on things.”
Michael waves. “I’ll get us a table.”
Entering the lobby of the Schmidt and Costello headquarters, there’s a large, lengthy desk at the front, with a young, brunette secretary behind it, busy on her office phone. I take a seat in one of the brown, leather chairs by a giant leafy plant, using it as privacy. Pulling out my cell, I call Emma’s office. She doesn’t answer and disappointment greets me.
I begin dialing Rachel and think twice, and instead, I dial Claire’s office and she picks right up.
“Where’s Emma?”
“Grayson?”
“Yes. Where is she? She didn’t answer her phone.”
Recognizing my impatience, she gets right to business. “A local author stopped by to see her. He’s in her office now. He brought her a thank you gift for all she’s done for him.”
My teeth grind. “What author?”
“Benjamin Luther.”
“What did he bring her?”
“Flowers and a gift card, I think. At least that’s what I could see when he walked in.”
