Unleash Me, Vol. 1 (Unleash Me, Annihilate Me Series) (15 page)

I turned and saw Marco Boss
—
all
six-foot-six of him
—
round
a corner and move in my direction.
 
He was dressed far more casually than me
—
dark jeans, a white button-down
shirt, and a blue blazer that was tailored to fit his enormous chest and slim
waist.
 

As he strode toward me, I tried to
read his face, but it was, in fact, unreadable.
 
There wasn
’
t even a hint of a smile on his lips, or a trace of
expression showing how much I
’
d
apparently disappointed him yesterday when he had his little tantrum about how
Bernie and Blackwell had styled me for the photo shoot.

“
It
’
s good to see you,
”
he
said when he took my hand and shook it.

“
Is
it?
”

“
It
is.
”

“
I
was thinking otherwise.
”

He ignored my comment.
 
“
Welcome to Wenn Publishing.
 
I
’
m assuming you
’
ve met Beatrice?
”

“
Sorry?
”

“
Beatrice.
”

“
I
don
’
t
know who that is.
”

“
I
’
m Beatrice,
”
the
woman behind the desk said.

She had been so rude to me a moment
ago, I decided to give it back to her.
 
I looked up at Marco.
 
“
I introduced myself to
her, but she didn
’
t
introduce herself to me.
 
Instead,
she told me that you might not have time for me and that I should stand against
that wall while she found out if you did.
 
So, no.
 
I haven
’
t met Beatrice.
 
Not officially, anyway.
”

“
Mr.
Boss is so busy,
”
she
said.

“
Too
busy for a self-published writer?
”

“
I
never said that.
”

“
But
you inferred it.
”

“
I
did nothing of the sort.
”

“
I
think we both know that
’
s
not true.
 
You did, after all, ask
me to stand against that wall as if I was in third grade.
”

Before anything else could be said
between us, Marco put his hand on my shoulder.
 
“
Come,
”
he
said.
 
“
Bea can be a
challenge, can
’
t
you, Bea?
”

“
It
’
s not as if I know who
she is.
”

“
And
that allows you to be rude?
”
I
asked.

“
I
was not rude to you.
”

“
Sorry,
but I disagree.
 
If I hadn
’
t just signed a
five-million-dollar contract with Wenn, I would have turned around and left.
”

Her eyes widened.
 
“
Five million
…
?
”

“
Let
’
s go to my office and
discuss your book,
”
Marco
said.
 
“
There
’
s a lot to talk
about.
 
We only have a few weeks to
get it in shape before we go to press.
 
I have a few ideas.
”
 
He looked at Beatrice.
 
“
The next time Ms. Ward comes for an appointment with me, I
presume you
’
ll
treat her like any of my other authors?
”

The woman bristled.
 
“
I believe I just did.
”

I looked up at Marco.
 
“
If that
’
s
the case, I feel for your other authors.
”

“
My
office is just down the hall and to the right.
”
 

I followed him down the hallway,
which I again thought was oddly quiet given what I
’
d experienced on the
other floors.
 
Is this what
traditional publishing was like?
 
I
was expecting a hum of activity, not people speaking quietly to each other or
into their phones.
 
But when I
considered it, of course it made sense, didn
’
t it?
 
I was
surrounded by editors, copy-editors, and proofreaders.
 
They would need quiet in order to do
their work.

Marco stopped beside the last office
on the left, raised his eyebrows at me, and motioned for me to step
inside.
 
Naturally, he had a corner
office that overlooked Fifth Avenue.
 
It was a bright, sunny day, but covering the windows that surrounded us
were tinted screens that diffused the light.
 
In the center of the room was a
sweeping, L-shaped glass table.
 
A
manuscript sat at its center, with a number of red pens beside it.
 
An iMac and a reading lamp sat to its
right, and a telephone sat to its left.
 
A small stack of books were pressed neatly against the left wall.
 
Otherwise, there was zero clutter.
 

“
Can
I take your bag?
”

“
Of
course.
”
 
I handed it to him, and as I did, he
came just close enough that I could smell a trace of his cologne, which was as
masculine as he was.

 
I tried to read his expression, which was
neither cool nor hot.
 
Yesterday had
been disastrous between us, but I couldn
’
t tell where I stood with him now.
 
If anything, he was being polite and
professional, but I had to wonder just how much longer that would last once we
started discussing my book.

“
Please
have a seat,
”
he
said.

I took the chair opposite his desk,
leaned back, and crossed my legs.

He took his own chair, and I saw his
gaze linger on me for a moment before he collected himself.
 
“
Sorry about yesterday,
”
he said.
 
“
I had a hell of a
morning, and I
’
m
afraid that I took it out on you.
”

Were you told to apologize to
me?
 
I
had to wonder.
 
Still, at least he
did and I was glad to be beginning on a softer note.

“
Don
’
t worry about it.
 
My skin is thick.
”

“
That
’
s good,
”
he
said.
 
“
Because I
’
m also sorry that
Blackwell felt she had to turn you into a clown.
”

“
Really,
Marco?
 
Are we going there
again?
 
I won
’
t tolerate it.
 
You need to know that.
”

“
You
’
re a beautiful woman,
Lisa.
 
You didn
’
t need to come dressed
like that for a photo shoot.
 
Not if
you want to be taken seriously as a writer.
 
And you certainly didn
’
t need to have those
diamonds on your lips, which some people will likely lampoon.
”

“
I
take Blackwell
’
s
advice very seriously.
”

“
You
might want to reconsider that.
 
If
you were a romance novelist, I could understand why she
’
d dress you like
that.
 
But you
’
re not.
 
You write about apocalyptic worlds.
 
You write science fiction.
”

“
Exactly.
 
The suit I wore yesterday was fashion
forward.
 
The diamonds on my lips
were otherworldly.
 
There was a
reason behind everything.
”

“
Would
you please consult with me in the future?
”

“
I
think you should ask Blackwell that.
”

“
I
will.
 
Now, we need to discuss your
book, and all the issues I have with it.
”

And here we go.

“
Such
as?
”

“
Because
this already had been published, there
’
s nothing I can do about the title, which is a shame.
 
I hate it.
”

“
What
don
’
t
you like about it?
”

“
It
’
s not commercial.
 
It doesn
’
t catch my attention.
”

“
But
it caught the attention of hundreds of thousands of others.
”

“
True.
 
But
‘
I, Zombie
’
?
 
Really?
 
It doesn
’
t do it for me.
”

“
The
whole premise of the book is that it
’
s told from the point-of-view of a zombie.
 
I
’
m not sure if that
’
s been done before.
 
As my main character, Marcus, turns into a zombie, you feel what he
feels.
 
You go through his death,
and his eventual rebirth of sorts.
 
Through him, you experience what it is like to die, and what his life
—
if
you even want to call it that
—
is
like after death.
 
That book is
about him and his conscious experiences.
 
He
’
s
not some bumbling clich
é
that you see in movies and on television shows.
 
My book takes the zombie myth and
assumes that there is still a person inside, still someone who knows what he
’
s doing, even if it
repels him.
 
Confuses him.
 
Horrifies him.
 
I think the title fits.
”

He held out his hands.
 
“
As I said, there
’
s nothing I can do.
”

Then why are we talking about this?

“
I
think my main concern with the book is that the arc you
’
ve given Marcus isn
’
t as full-bodied as it
could be.
 
The book starts off well,
but then it loses momentum by the second act, and completely falls apart by the
final act.
 
I
’
m suggesting a
complete rewrite of the second and third acts, with major tweaks to the first
act.
”
 

He tapped the manuscript in front of
him with his thick forefinger.
 
“
I
’
ve gone through the
manuscript twice and left in red ink dozens of notes in the margins for you to
consider.
 
I
’
ve also written a new
synopsis for the book so you can employ those edits and change the book
’
s direction before we
publish it.
”