Chapter Thirty

Working in his office was the only thing Tessler could do to calm his mind. Mason had left the apartment earlier to head back to the city for a very important appointment with his doctors. He was hoping for a clean bill of health that would allow him to get back to work, and Tessler wanted that for him, too. He’d seen the signs of renewed strength in Mason and saw his level of readiness first hand when he pulled Barry off of him in the foyer. Mason was ready to work again. It was a huge accomplishment earned from all his painful hard work in physical therapy, and Tessler was grateful he’d had a front row seat to witness Mason’s full recovery.

If everything went well for Mason at the doctor’s today, Tessler hoped Mason would return to his place tonight driving his own vehicle. He could also imagine the special celebration they’d have together soon after his arrival. Tessler’s cock began to stir in his pants at the visuals that came along with that. He glanced at the time at the bottom of his laptop screen and wondered if Mason was out of the doctor’s office yet. He wanted to call him, but it needed to be Mason who reached out to him, just in case the news wasn’t good and hadn’t been cleared to return to work. If that were the case, he wasn’t sure how Mason was going to react. The man placed a great deal of his self-worth on his capabilities at his job. If the doctor’s turned him down, Tessler feared Mason might slip backwards in his emotional recovery and feel defeated. He hated the idea of that and with every hour that passed without word from Mason, a feeling of trepidation settled into Tessler.

It was just before dinner when Tessler’s phone finally disturbed his concentration. Tessler had been in his office all afternoon, and although he hadn’t made a lot of progress on his manuscript, he was still making the effort and that counted for something. He reached for his phone expecting to see Mason’s name on the caller I.D., but it was Barry’s name that appeared instead. Why didn’t you delete his number years ago? Tessler wanted to throw his phone against the wall but decided to answer it after all.

“What happened to you giving me ten days before I had to give you my decision?” Tessler barked into his phone.

“The situation has changed since we last talked,” Barry replied dryly.

“Oh, is that so? In what way have things changed?” Tessler asked.

“Well, first let me ask if you’ve made a decision on writing book four in the Black Key … Series,’” Barry stated.

“Stop calling it a series,” Tessler corrected.

“Multiple books with the same characters are considered to be a series,” Barry retorted.

“Unless it’s three books, then it is called a trilogy,” Tessler grit out.

“Semantics,” Barry said. “Tell me, what are your thoughts on doing a fourth book?”

“I wrote a trilogy, Barry—a three-book trilogy, and I have no future plans on ever adding more books to change that status,” Tessler admitted.

“That’s very unfortunate to hear,” Barry stated flatly. “Another book would have brought us both enormous financial rewards.”

“Mmmm, and you saw a way to make that a lifelong thing for yourself, didn’t you?” Tessler stated.

“I see you’ve been talking to your lawyer.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“Nope, you’re a smart man,” Barry admitted. “I knew you’d be doing your best to lawyer-up and protect your ass, but as you know now, that was a wasted effort.”

“You never change, do you Barry?” Tessler asked. “It’s always about the money for you.”

“And why wouldn’t it be?” Barry countered. “You need to remember something. I got you your first contract and set you on a path that you never imagined was possible and that also came along with a bank account which was equally as impressive. Why wouldn’t I deserve to be compensated for the launch of such an illustrious career, which you’ve been enjoying now for years?”

“Do you fuck over all of your clients like this?” Tessler asked.

“Not all of my clients are as successful as you’ve been,” Barry answered. “I had to cash in on where I saw the cash cow. You really should be giving me some credit for being able to see your raw potential. I saw your rising star long before anyone else did, and I got you pointed in the right direction.”

“Your credit came in the form of a ton of money which you earned—and apparently continue to earn, off of my hard work,” Tessler argued.

“Don’t be so bitter. You’ve done quite well for yourself, thanks to me and my connections,” Barry pointed out. “What I did for you deserves compensation.”

“Whatever. Your douche personality doesn’t change my decision about writing another book, so do whatever you feel you need to do as punishment for me not following your orders. I don’t really give a fuck.”

“Oh, Tessler. We’ve moved well beyond the dynamic of me giving orders in our relationship,” Barry stated drolly.

“Relationship?” Tessler scoffed. “There is no such thing between us and there never was.”

“How you view our years together is on you,” Barry replied. “I wasn’t calling you today to argue that point.”

“Then, how about we get to the point of why you’re calling?” Tessler asked. “You gave me ten days to give you an answer, Barry, so why are you calling me two days later?”

“It’s been three days, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“Get to your point!” Tessler blasted him. “You said the situation has changed. How so?”

“Perhaps after I tell you, your decision might change about writing a fourth book,” Barry added.

“Doubtful, but go ahead and enlighten me,” Tessler bit out.

“When I reveal your three identities at the press conference next week, I am prepared to offer proof you are, in fact, the author of the Black Key Trilogy.”

That statement had Tessler sitting up straighter in the seat behind his desk. “What the hell do you mean by that?” he asked.

“It means, I plan on releasing a few pages of the notes you used to write the trilogy,” Barry pointed out.

“How is that fucking possible?” Tessler asked. He did his best to keep the panic out of his voice but knew he’d probably missed the mark on that.

“Use your big, beautiful brain, Tessy,” Barry said, calling Tessler by the one pet name he fucking hated more than any other name Barry had ever used on him over the years.

“The notes to that trilogy came from my journal ...” Tessler said as he tried to solve this mystery in his own head.

“That’s correct.”

“That doesn’t explain how you got the notes,” Tessler stated. “Did you copy the pages from my journal?”

Barry’s laugh cackling through the phone had Tessler jumping to his feet and rushing across the room to the closet where he kept the boxes of all his completed journals. As each new volume was finished, it was neatly stacked in boxes in chronological order with specific notes written on the spines to identify the time period it was written. Tessler’s fingers worked quickly as he thumbed through the various hardcover journals while reading the notations on each of the spines. He knew exactly what he was looking for, and he wasn’t finding it. Bile began to rise in his throat.

“Find what you’re looking for yet, Tessy?”

“Stop calling me that!” he barked.

Tessler dumped an entire box upside down on the floor and started sifting again. Tears began to sting at his eyes and then anger bubbled to the surface of his skin, making him sweat. “How did you fucking do it?”

“Do what?” Barry asked.

“When did you steal my journal, you fucking piece of shit?”

More laughter came through the phone which sent a cold shiver through Tessler. “I’ve had it for years,” Barry admitted. “You really should take better care of important things like that. I saw it sitting on top of your desk one day—right out in the open—and thought I’d take it home and keep it safe for you. But then we parted ways, and I forgot I had this little book … until now.”

Tessler could hardly breathe. It felt like someone was sitting on his chest. The room was starting to spin on him as the reality was setting in. He has the one journal that actually matters—the only one that has a fucking value.

“I’m assuming your lawyer read the contracts to you and explained them, correct?” Barry asked, but before Tessler could answer, he continued to talk. “Your signature on those documents gives me permission to publish that journal—or any other paper notations, as a way to promote those books.”

“You took that journal without my permission!” Tessler spit. “There is no fucking way you have a legal right to publish something you’ve stolen!”

“Perhaps you should check with your lawyer about that,” Barry suggested. “But let me add this: If you write another book, this all goes away. In fact, if you give me a fourth book, I’ll give you back the journal. How’s that sound?”

Tessler had no words. He couldn’t even get his brain to function enough to connect with his tongue to form a complete thought. Could this really be happening? How could he have been so stupid to allow Barry access to his life like that? That was part of the reason Tessler had moved into the building where he lived now. Barry had become too comfortable coming and going as he pleased in Tessler’s old apartment, and Tessler was far too trusting back then to believe Barry would ever fuck him over. That combination gave Barry way too much leeway and control over every aspect of Tessler’s life. He’d made the move to the renovated brick warehouse to protect himself, but apparently it was already too late. The damage had been done.

“I’ll give you another call in a few days to see if you’ve reconsidered.” Barry ended the call, leaving Tessler’s head spiraling out of control and into a future of uncertainty.

What the fuck do I do now?