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"Do they even know what they are bidding on here? Do you even understand what she has done?"
The young woman looks up at me, and I can tell she does not. I reply to my question to save her embarrassment.
"This might be one of the greatest works of science fiction in the past ten years. It is not very often that something like this passes over my desk, and none of you will do what is right. All you can see are dollar signs."
"Science fiction?" asks the woman.
I scoff. "You do not know what you are here for. I mean…" I gesture up and down her body. "It isobviouswhat you are here for."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Her hands are on her hips again.
"Come on, let us not beat around the bush. Your boss sent you here to try and woo the client. You don’t even know what the book is about, do you?"
"Why don't you enlighten me then?"
I look her up and down again. She might have no clue what she is here to bid on, but she knows how to look great. She is not the type of woman I would typically pick up, but there is no denying that she is the sexiest woman here. I might make a move if she did not have a storm brewing on her face and obvious hate for me.
"Charlie Morton has written garbage romance for the last ten years, so it blows my mind that she has written a sci-fi epic that rivals theFoundationandDuneseries," I lecture. "People will talk about this book for decades,ifhandled properly. I still cannot fathom how she managed to get so much right—this is not speculative fiction—intertwining themes of social justice and equality while still jamming in a romance that is one of the most beautiful depictions of all her books. This is an important book, and I won't let some publisher make it into a movie with a dozen sequels."
"Wow, you must be really smart or something. I'm so glad that you are going to come in and save us all. I didn't realize the American publishing industry needed a strong man to save us. And what? Areyougoing to publish it? Areyougoing to make it into a movie?"
"I am going to protect it."
The woman starts to laugh which makes me dislike her a little more, if that is even possible.
"It's not a baby!" states the woman. "What is this? Some crusade against the big guys? A David versus Goliath battle? Well, I hate to break it to you, but you are Goliath in this story. Look me in the eye and tell me you are not a millionaire."
I look her in the eye, but not because she demands it. I want to know who she is. She has been sent here to flash her breasts and charm the possibly-lesbian writer, but there is fire in here too. Of all the people I am up against, she is the one I will have to look out for.
"Oh, my goodness! It's more, isn't it? Are you abillionaire?" she demands.
"Be careful what you get this weekend. You want to win this, but your bosses will ruin her novel. She will make money, but she will become a laughingstock. When that happens,youwill be to blame."
"Oh, fuck off! Are you really so threatened by me that you have to hang around to bully me?"
"I am not threatening you. Listen, I care about this book. If you can promise me that your publisher will not make a mess of this, I will step aside, but we know they do not care."
"Are you done?"
I sigh. "For now."
She storms off, and I am glad to see her go, even if I cannot take my eyes off her ass in the tight skirt.
I fish my phone from my pocket when it starts to vibrate. "Carlos?"
"Mr. McDonagh, the whole city is a no-fly zone. Nothing in and out until the storm passes."
"How long?"
"Four, maybe five hours? You want us to stay here?"
"No, go and get some sleep. We might as well leave in the morning. I can do some work from the hotel."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" The hot young thing storms past me, and I watch her head straight into the bathroom.
"Get some food and a couple of drinks on me," I say.
"Thank you, sir."
