Chapter 27
Grayson
Waking up to a screaming woman is never a fun thing.
Apparently Rowan has a howl that can wake the dead. I jolt straight up in my bed, disoriented as a person can be, my eyes wide open as I look around the room. My heart starts to race, and as soon as I realize that the scream is coming from Rowan my body leaps up from bed, ready to fight. She’s not in the room, so I start to think the worst. I think there might be a break in, and that she’s being attacked in the other room. I don’t even bother to get dressed, I just run, instinctually, into the other room as fast as my feet will carry me.
My body is in complete fight-or-flight mode, and I’m ready for whatever’s on the other side of my bedroom. “Rowan!” I yell, running into the next room. Before I’m in there she yells back.
“I’m in the living room. Grayson, get in here!”
I’m still thinking the worst when I turn the corner, but when I get into the room Rowan is sitting by herself, a cell phone held against her ear. I look around the room frantically, half expecting to see a home invader that I’m going to fight until the cops get there, but there isn’t anyone but Rowan in the room. “What the hell is going on?” I ask. Not only is she okay, but she’s smiling, ear to ear. In fact, she looks happier than I’ve seen her in days. I shrug my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“I’m sorry, sir, can you hold on one second? Thanks.” She’s not talking to me, she’s speaking to whoever it is on the other end of the phone—the person who made her scream like she was being killed. The cell phone she’s holding is mine, and I’m totally confused at what the hell is going on. She takes my phone off of her ear and puts it on mute. “Grayson, you want to take this call.”
“What the hell is going on? You scared the shit out of me. I almost came out swinging.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I was really excited. I didn’t meant to wake you, but I’m glad I did. You need to take this.”
“You’re not making any sense, who. . .”
“Gray, just take the phone. I saw it ring and I picked it up. You’re going to want to take this right now.”
I go to ask another question because I still don’t know what’s happening, but the look on her face cuts me right off, and I take my phone back. “Hello?” I ask, curious as to what I’m going to hear on the other line.
“Grayson Blackman?” The voice asks.
“Yes. That’s me. Who is this?”
“Mr. Blackman my name is Jeremiah Leman. You probably don’t recognize my voice because we only met once.”
Met once? What the hell is he talking about? I’ve never met this person in my life. I start to think it’s a prank call—maybe Colt or Mike fucking with me by throwing their voice, but the person on the other end doubles down. “I agree it was an odd meeting. I know you probably weren’t expecting to hear from me again.”
Once I start to think it’s not a prank call I start to wonder just who the hell this guy on the other line is. He sounds vaguely familiar, and very friendly. I don’t want to be rude because he clearly knows who I am, but I can’t keep talking to him without asking. “I’m really sorry, but this is?”
“Oh, sorry. That’s rude of me. My name is Charles Raymore. We met when you almost knocked me over in Donovan’s Books when you were down in Arizona.”
Holy crap! I remember that guy. It was when Rowan and I were leaving. I bumped into him right in front of the display of books before saying goodbye to Mr. Donovan. I wonder what he wants. “Oh, right. I didn’t think that. . .”
“You’d be hearing from me? No, Grayson, I didn’t imagine you would. This may seem out of the blue but I’m staying at a hotel in Manhattan for something I’m doing for work. Would you have an hour to meet with me tomorrow for lunch? I have a few things I wanted to discus with you, and I’d much rather do it in person than over the phone.”
“Umm. . .of course, yeah. That’d be fine.”
“Great. I was thinking one o’clock if that works for you. I can text you the address. It’s a little café right by the hotel I’m staying at.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow at one. Thanks Charles.”
I hang up and look at Rowan. I’m not sure which one of us is making more of a confused face. “Why were you screaming?” I ask her. “I nearly came in here shooting.”
“Sorry. He told me who he was and I got really excited for you.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t he tell you who he works for?”
“No, actually, I didn’t ask.” Now that I think about it it is kind of strange that I agreed to meet him so easily without even asking what he does for a living. “Who?”
“Harlequin. The publishing company.”
I can’t believe my ears at first. My heart skips a beat when she says it, and right at once I understand exactly why she was screaming. But I don’t want to get too excited, that doesn’t really mean anything. “That’s cool,” I say, pretending to be calm about the situation. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Not sure it’s a screaming situation just yet. He just wants to talk.”
“Yeah, and what do you think he wants to talk about?”
“I have no idea.” I really don’t, and I’m way too superstitious to thing the best. It’s just a lunch. Lunch with a strange guy I bumped into a few months ago in a bookstore in Arizona. Totally normal stuff.”
“Well I’m going to be optimistic, even if you’re not.”
“That pretty much sums up our relationship, doesn’t it?”
“It does, yeah. I’ll put out good vibes into the universal and we’ll see what happens at your lunch tomorrow.”
“Ok,” I tell her. “I’ll try to be positive also, I promise.”
“Good. Cause that’s not the only reason I was screaming.”
“Then why?”
“Have you checked Amazon?”
Shit. I actually haven’t looked. We had such an amazing night that I didn’t even think of it. “No, now that you mention it. Why? It Graceful Cocky Knockout doing okay? Top 100?”
“Higher.” She says.
“Top 75?”
“Even higher.”
“Let me see.” I grab my computer and check the books Amazon page. When Rowan sees that I see, I hear another little scream. “Holy shit.”
“I know!”
I see the banner before I see the number. That little orange tag is so small, yet it’s something we work out entire careers for in some cases. It read “#1 Bestseller in Anthologies” next to the title of the book. Our names are just under that, and I smile, ear to ear. The satisfaction rushes over me as much as the disappointment did last time. Cordelia is always telling me in therapy not to base my emotions on external factors, but I can’t help but let this feeling of joy inside me. “I’ve gotta call the guys!”
I call Mike up first and he already knows. He’s still really excited. Colton is out with Harley when I call, and I hear him scream and curse like a savage in the middle of wherever the hell he is. Knowing him it’s a crowded restaurant where all the other patrons are now staring at him, wondering why he’s screaming ‘oh fuck yes’ into his cell phone while his girlfriend shushes him. But who cares. We made it to a bestseller list!
“I’m so proud of you. This is fucking amazing! You should be jumping up and down like I am.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever jumped up and down in my life. But on the inside? My head’s hitting the ceiling.”
“That’s good to know. Now where are you taking me out to celebrate?”
“Anywhere you want.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear.”
<><><>
I don’t know why I’m nervous about this lunch. I don’t even know the guy past bumping into him—literally—back in Arizona, and getting a completely random call from him yesterday. And I can add an impromptu lunch to that list. He seemed like a really nice guy both times we spoke, and knowing what he does for a living has my interest really sparked. After my Uber driver fights the Manhattan traffic I end up at the place he texted me the address of. He’s already waiting for me when I get inside. He smiles and waves like he’s excited to see me.
“Charles?”
“Grayson, how are you?”
“I’m good. Really good, actually. I got some news about one of my books yesterday and I’m really excited.”
“The one you co-authored with your friends, right? I saw.”
Woah. I’m a little shocked when he says that. How the hell does he know about the book? Was he following up? “Yeah. How’d you know?”
“It’s my job to know these things. Congrats, by the way. Amazon tags are a nice first step.”
First step? Did he just say first step? “What do you mean?”
“Well, Amazon bestseller tags are a great thing, don’t get me wrong. But if that’s the top of your career, then you haven’t had the kind of career that you can.”
“Huh.”
“Look, Grayson, I’m in no way trying to diminish your accomplishment, it’s a great thing, and you should all be really proud. All I’m saying is that if you don’t use that early success to build to an even greater success, you’re missing opportunities. Think of it like this—if you were a athlete with Olympic level potential, would you be satisfied only winning a national title?”
“No, absolutely not.”
“Exactly. And that’s not to say a national title isn’t more than most people achieve in a lifetime, it’s just to ask why you’d limit yourself. There are always greater things to accomplish.”
“Like what?” I ask.
“Like USA Today. Like the Wall Street Journal. Like the New York Times. Like more things than you can even imagine.”
“I’m sorry, Charles. I don’t mean this to come across the wrong way, but who are you, and how’d you even get my number. We’re sitting here talking best seller lists, and my book, and I don’t really have a lot of context to the whole situation. Can you fill in some gaps for me?”
“He said you were smart. He was right.”
“Who’s ‘he’?”
“Good old Mr. Donovan.”
“Mr. Donovan?”
“Yeah. He spoke about you like you were his son. He was so effusive that it forced me to listen. You’ve got talk to that kid! Do you know who that was? That was Grayson Blackman, he said. He used to spend summers in this bookstore helping me stock books. We’d talk about his favorite stories all afternoon, and now he’s publishing books of his own. He went on for quite some time. That’s why I’m here, Grayson. I got your number off of social media, to answer your other question. But I’m here because the reason I was at Donovan’s Books in the first place was because I work for Harlequin, I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”
“Of course.”
“Well what you may not have heard is that they launched a new initiative about six months ago based on an idea of mine.”
“And what was that?”
“Have you ever tried to publish traditionally, Grayson?”
“No. My friend Knight is doing that now. It sounds like a process.”
Charles laughs hysterically. “That’s a great euphemism. It’s definitely a process. And for most people it ends up with them never getting a deal. Or, even worse, they get a bad deal and end up leaving the industry altogether. It’s a shame.”
I’m listening to him, trying to figure out exactly where the conversation is going. He’s a smooth operator, that’s for sure, and I want to make sure he’s not trying to sell me any snake oil. Any indie authors with any degrees of success knows how many fake agents and promoters there are out there. My inbox is constantly filled with spam from predatory scammers looking to sell you their services to help make your book a hit. Ninety nine percent of them aren’t real, so I always have my guard up when someone starts pitching me on what they can do for my career. On the positive side, this would be an awful lot of trouble for a scammer to go through just to make a buck.
“Please don’t think me rude, Charles, but why are you telling me all of this?”
“Good boy,” he says. “You ask good questions. I apologize but I’m a little long winded. I’m getting there, just bear with me.”
“No problem, go on.”
“So the initiative that I mentioned—I pitched it a year ago and it began in full force a few months back. It’s a lot of work on my part, but that’s part of how I got the program approved. If it picks up steam—and I hope that you’ll help be a part of that evolution—then maybe I’ll get some employees who’ll travel this great country of ours instead of me having to do it all. But we’ll see.”
“So. . .”
“Right, sorry, there I go again. My program is all about finding undiscovered talent. This country is filled with it. In the arts, in sports, in every venue you can imagine, there are people who you’ve never heard of just waiting to get their shot. I spent years at the company seeing what the publication process can be like, and I’ve seen some really talented authors slip through the cracks because they couldn’t write a proper query letter, or because they chose the wrong agent, or a million other reasons that had nothing to do with the quality of their writing. And what I’ve always believed—what I still believe—is that, at the end of the day, the writing is what matters, not all that other shit. Pardon my language.”
“Not at all. I couldn’t agree more. Knight’s going through it now and it sounds very involved.”
“To put it politely.”
“That sounds like a great program, but how do I fit into all this?”
“Well, Grayson, to cut to the chase for once, I’d like to offer you a one book publication contract.”
“What?” I’m trying so hard to not get too excited. I don’t want to jump the gun. This guy could be full of shit. “Are you serious? How does that work?”
“See,” he says. “Another intelligent question. How it works is that, if you like what you hear, and after having your lawyer look over these papers, you sign a single book deal exclusive to Harlequin. Unlike some other companies it can be for an already published book, or it could be for what you’re working on right now. That’s your choice. The only catch is that whatever book you choose is has to be unpublished by you if it’s a book that’s already out. If it’s a new one, then the book falls under the Harlequin library, and we handle all of the promotion either way. You keep the rights to all you past and future work, and we don’t touch any of the royalties you make on your self-published work whatsoever. We’re not predators, after all.”
“This seems too good to be true, Charles. You know what they say about those situations.”
“You’re a smart man, Gray. I can tell just in the few interactions I’ve had with you in a short period of time. Let me break it down for you so that you know I’m being real with you. The reason my company gave me the green light is because I agreed to do all the work, and I have been, for months now. That’s why you ran into me in a little nothing bookstore in Arizona. It’s why I’m going to another store just like it later on tonight, and why I’ve been to forty different states in the last six months. I’m not making an extra penny for this, but the potential upside to the company is huge. If I’m wrong, then all I’ve wasted is my own time. But if I’m right, and even one author that I find writes the next Fifty Shades of Grey, then the company reaps tremendous benefits. So I’m not looking to rip you off—of course there’s a royalty deal in place, just like with Amazon when you self publish. I’m not promising you some get rich quick scheme. But I am offering you an opportunity to reach a wider audience than you’ve ever dreamed of reaching. And who knows where you can go from there!”
I listen, closely, and I like everything that he’s saying. I had about ten questions for him, lined up in my head like a laundry list, but he’s addressed all of them except for one. “I understand. But why me? Why not Colton, or Knight, or a million other guys out there writing romance?”
“Now that’s the easiest one you’ve asked me so far. And the answer is your friend and mine, Mr. Donovan.”
“Wait, how?”
“I usually deal with bookstore owners, not individual authors. It’s just easier for me that way. I only travel to stores that support independently published authors. That way I can talk to the owner about who’s selling and who isn’t, along with some other factors. That’s why I was at Donovan’s Books. After you left that day, the man couldn’t stop singing your praises. He went on and on about you, so I checked out your social media presence, your platform, and I read the book that you left for him on my flight that evening. I loved it.”
“You loved it?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. You’re a great writer, Gray.”
“You sound like my girlfriend. She’s always trying to tell me to stop doubting myself and believe that I’m actually good at this.”
“Smart lady,” he says. “You might wanna keep her around.”
“I think I might.”
We both chuckle a little, and then Charles gets back to business. “And just so you know, my company has an interest in your friends. What do you guys call yourselves? The Wordsmiths, right?” I nod. “I didn’t get a chance to read their work yet, but nothing is off the table. But I’d like to start with you because you come highly recommended, and I can personally attest to the quality of your work.”
“I don’t know what to say. I’m shocked.”
“Don’t say anything yet.” He reaches into his attaché case and pulls out a small packet of papers. “This is the contract. Everything is inside—all of the terms, conditions, royalty rates, etc. What you’re going to do is take this packet to a qualified attorney and have them look over it. My company will cover the costs of whatever fees come with that, whether you sign with us or not. If everything is on the up and up and to your liking, then you sign with us. If not, then we shake hands and part ways, no hard feelings. That’s really it. Here.”
I take the papers and page through them quickly. It’s long, and it looks like it’s written in complete legalese, so I’m going to take his advice and have a lawyer look it over to make sure this isn’t bullshit.” I extend my hand. “This is really. . .”
“Unexpected?” He asks.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“Take my word for it, Gray. Some of the best things that have ever happened in my life have been unexpected. I hope that you sign with us.”
<><><>
After lunch I head back to my place. Rowan has the day off, so she’s waiting for me right where I left her. I texted that I was on the way home and as soon as I turn my key in the lock I feel her pulling the door open. “So?” She asks before I even have a chance to put my keys down. “What happened? Tell me everything.”
“Were you waiting for me?”
“Of course,” she says. I watched about half a season of Stranger Things, and now I’m back. Eleven is an awesome character, by the way.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know why I’m telling you that. Who cares about Netflix shows, tell me about your lunch.”
I do just that. The more I talk the more her face lights up. I try to recount every detail of what Charles told me about the whole deal as best as I can remember. When I’m done I hand her the contract and she pages through just like I did. “Baby, that’s amazing! Are you excited?”
“I think so.”
“You think so? Gray!”
“Look, I’m not being my old self, I promise. It’s not that I can’t feel happy, it’s that I don’t wanna jump the gun until I have a lawyer look over the papers. I don’t want to get my hopes up and then have them dashed like that.”
“I understand,” she says. “Do you have a lawyer? If not I know a few. A good friend from college actually does corporate law in the city at one of the top firms. I’m sure I can contact her on social media if you want, we’re still friends on Facebook.”
“You’re amazing,” I say. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love that.”
“Too much trouble? Of course I’d do that for the man I love. . .” She stops and I stop. There’s an intense pause between us, and I look at her to make sure that I heard her correctly. Her eyes are opened wide, like she surprised herself by saying more than she wanted to, only to realize it a little too late. Did she really just say that? Oh my God.
“What did you say?” I ask.
She looks up like she’s embarrassed, but we both know what she said. Finally she takes a deep breath, swallows, and looks me right in the eye. “I said, of course I’d do that for the man that I love. I love you, Grayson.”
There’s no hesitation on my part. No pause necessary, and nothing awkward about the situation at all. It’s the best surprise of my day, way better than any book deal. “I love you too, Ro. I can’t believe that I almost lost you because of my own stupidity.”
“You didn’t loose me. I’m right here.”
“Yeah you are.” She’s giving me the look. Her eyes are sultry, inviting, practically pulling me by the shirt to come over there. I get up from my side of the couch and go over to hers. She falls to her back as though the whole thing were choreographed, only it isn’t. We just know each other that well. I know the look she just gave me, and she knows what I’m about to do. She’s wearing one of my old shirts and once she’s on her back I lift it up slightly, exposing her flat stomach. I position my head just below, and with my middle finger I pull her panties to the side. Her beautiful pink pussy is looking at me, and I’m staring right back. With my other hand I spread her lips open and slip my tongue inside of her. She arches her back and reaches for my head, getting the top of my hair as I pleasure her.
She tastes amazing. I keep licking her, and slide a finger deep inside as I massage her clit with my warm tongue. When her moaning starts it doesn’t stop, and the noises of pleasure coming out of her are making me so hard that I need to get my pants off right now. I stand up and unbuckle, stepping out of my pants and boxer briefs so that there’ nothing standing between my rock hard cock and her sweet pussy. Well, almost nothing. I reach down, and with all the force I can muster I rip her panties down, and they tear right off her body. “Grayson!” She says, smiling the whole time. “You’re an animal. . .” I don’t let her finish whatever she’s saying. Words aren’t necessary for me to reply—only my body and mouth against hers.
We start to kiss intensely, my hands running the length of her body, up and down from her face to her thigh. I put a finger back inside her as she spreads her legs for me. We never stop kissing, but as we do I get her ready for me. My cock is aching to be inside her, so the foreplay is going to have to be interrupted. Based on how wet she is, I doubt that she’s going to mind at all. My body attaches to hers, her pesky nipples pressing into my pecks. With a hand I slide myself right inside of her and she yells my name as I do. Being inside her is like no other feeling in the world. I press my hips forward and back, thrusting into her slowly, so that I can feel every inch of her. It feels amazing.
As I fuck her passionately, I lean in and press my lips into the nape of her neck. She loves to be kissed on her neck, and the smell of her skin makes me fuck her even harder. She claws at my back as I do. I can tell she’s breaking skin because it hurts and feels great at exactly the same time. Every touch just makes me go harder, faster, more intense. I put my mouth next to her ear when I feel her getting close, and I whisper one more time. “I love you, Rowan. I love you so much.” Then I feel her explosion. It’s like her body is fighting to get out from underneath me, only it isn’t. It’s an explosion of passion happening under my body, and I let me happen as I feel my own orgasm building. Her pussy is clenching me hard, and the feeling of it makes me loose all control. I come harder than I ever have before, exploding inside her, screaming as it happens.
When I’m done I feel some strange sensation between exhaustion, pure happiness, and the kind of euphoria that happens when you’re high out of your mind. “This has been one hell of a day.” She smiles, leans over, and kisses me.
“And I haven’t even finished Stranger Things yet.”
“You’re right. Forget the book deal, amazing sex, and saying that we love each other. There are 1980’s aliens to watch!”
“See, you get me. That’s why I love you.”
She loves me. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing those words.