The Casual Rule Page 3

  “The game depends on the skills, energy, and frame of mind of the two teams playing. Take the game you described in chapter five.”

  “What about it? It’s an accurate description.” His posture stiffens.

  “Yes. But it’s too mechanical, too precise. There’s no sexy. In the first inning you have a player on third, another on second. The batter grounds the ball. The shortstop grabs the ball and throws it home.”

  “Ah yes, the sex is oozing,” he scoffs as he rolls his eyes.

  I take a big swig of sangria. He’s not going to frighten me off with his demeaning eye rolling. I know what I’m talking about. “What’s sexy is the push and pull, like a relationship between a man and a woman, should I, shouldn’t I? Do I try to move up the bases, or retreat back? Get inside their heads. In that play, once the ball was thrown to home plate, the player on third retreats back toward third. The guy on second is almost at third, but has to retreat back to second. The shortstop gets the ball again and chases the player back and forth toward second base. The shortstop momentarily stops to see where the guy on third is, giving the other player enough time to get back to second safely.”

  “And that’s sexy?”

  “The back and forth, the indecisiveness. I think that’s very sexy.”

  “Some might call that being a tease.” He smirks as he pops a chunk of cheese in his distractingly perfect mouth.

  “Others might call that doing what’s best for your game.”

  “Your game? Baseball is a team sport.”

  “Agreed. The ultimate goal is scoring, but most of the excitement is getting there. You need to build that up, raise the excitement level. Titillate your readers. There’s an intimate relationship between the written word and the reader. You need to keep them interested. Why didn’t you mention anything a little outrageous? I’d love to know what was going on behind the scenes, something a little scandalous,” I ask.

  “Scandalous or Slanderous?”

  “Spicy, something your reader can sink their teeth into.”

  “It has no place in my book.”

  “I’ve always suspected there’s some juicy behind the scene stories we’ve never heard. Surely with your resources, you could delve deeper.”

  “I can assure you, Miss Conti, I’ve delved deep enough. Everything that needed to be written was in that manuscript,” he answers sternly.

  Oh, now I’m back to Miss Conti. Touched a nerve, have I?

  “Mr. Martin, readers want something fresh. You have to give them something a little salacious, something they haven’t read before. You’re going in the right direction, but you need to add an additional chapter and some rewrites. Your stories are very good, but you need more grit.”

  “Grit, Miss Conti? Is that code for gossip? I am not writing a book for gossip hungry women.”

  I don’t know if it’s the two glasses of sangria that has given me the courage to speak my mind, but I’ve had it.

  “Do you have an issue with women, Mr. Martin? You will add an additional chapter and the rewrites and they will be ready by your next deadline,” I say heatedly.

  “My issue is with you. Do you think I’m going to take orders from a wet behind the ears assistant with hardly any editing experience? You look like you’re barely out of college.”

  “I can read, Mr. Martin. And make no mistake about it; I’m damn good at what I do. I know the difference between writing that’s worth my time and writing that falls flat.” I quickly look at my watch; it only took him forty-five minutes to completely piss me off.

  “I see you got your watch fixed.” He glares at me, his eyes cold and hard.

  Shit! That smug bastard knew who I was the whole time and didn’t say a word.

  “Yes, it’s telling me it’s time to leave. I’ll pay at the front. Enjoy the rest of your meal.” You sexist jerk.

  ~o0o~

  I walk into my apartment ready to forget tonight ever happened. Allie is sitting on the couch with her feet on the coffee table, remote control in hand. She turns around when she hears me.

  “Hey, how did your first one on one with an author go?” she asks.

  “Super. I should be unemployed by morning,” I answer sarcastically, walking over to the couch and sitting next to her.

  “Why? What happened?”

  “He was an arrogant ass. I lost my cool and called him out on it. I was unprofessional. I’m sure once he gets Vivian’s ear, I’m fired.” My stomach is starting to hurt. I just royally screwed myself.

  “Vivian is not going to fire you,” she assures me.

  “You weren’t there. I let her down. No matter what my opinion is about the guy, I shouldn’t have let it affect my work.”

  “Ah, Jules, I’m sorry. Just explain to Vivian what happened. She may reprimand you, but she likes you. She won’t fire you.”

  “There’s something else,” I say quietly.

  “What?”

  “The author guy…we’ve met before.”

  “Really?”

  “He’s Mr. Khaki Shorts.”

  “Get out!” She puts her hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh.

  “Yes. It’s not funny, Allie. It was mortifying. He was talking to me the whole time pretending he didn’t recognize me. Then we exchanged some words and he called me out on the Central Park thing.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nice to see you had your watch fixed.” I close my eyes tight, reliving the embarrassment.

  She rests her elbow on her thigh, resting her chin in her palm. “What an ass.”

  “Yeah, well that ass is going to get me fired.”

  “Don’t get yourself all worked up. Tell Vivian your side of the story tomorrow. Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine.”

  “I’m not so sure, but thanks.”

  ~o0o~

  I arrive at work early, waiting for Vivian to hand me my pink slip. It’s like ripping off a band-aid; I want to get this over with quickly and as painlessly as possible.

  “Good morning.” Vivian’s voice startles me and I jump.

  “Good morning, Vivian. How is Justin?”

  “He’ll live. His arm is in a cast. He thinks it’s cool.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “Thank you. I received an email from Ben Martin last night.”

  “Oh?” Oh shit is more like it.

  “Yes. Come in my office in ten minutes. We’ll talk.” She walks into her office and closes the door.

  I close my eyes and see the blade of the guillotine slowly dropping. Here’s where I lose my head.

  After the longest ten minutes of my life, I take a deep breath and lightly knock at Vivian’s office door.

  “Come in, Julia.”

  I swallow hard and step into Vivian’s office. I sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk and wait for the bad news.

  “Vivian, before you say anything, I want to apologize for last night.”

  “An email recap would have been nice. I would have appreciated a heads-up, but it’s all water under the bridge now, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I suppose.”

  “Ben’s email said you told him to add a chapter and the rewrites we discussed.”

  “Yes, he got very defensive about it.”

  “All authors are defensive about their work. It’s a balancing act, Julia. You have to deal with their fragile egos and still keep them on task to produce a product we can market.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” I look down at her desk.

  “Sorry for what? He said he’ll have the new chapter ready on time.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes. His email also said that he was quite impressed with you. He said he was looking forward to working with you on future edits.”

  “I don’t understand. Our discussion got quite heated, honestly. I thought he hated me.”

  “Julia, most authors will resist suggestions and direction for their work. These manuscripts are their babies. They’ll fight you, go home, think ab
out it, and usually we find a middle ground. It’s all part of the game. He obviously respects you or he wouldn’t ask to work with you. Schedule a meeting in two weeks; send me your notes. Good job.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  “All right. Next on the agenda, can you bring me Jane Morris’ manuscript, please?”

  “Of course. Thank you for this opportunity Vivian. You won’t regret it.”

  “I know I won’t. Oh…and Julia?”

  “Hmm?”

  “He’s pretty easy on the eyes, isn’t he?” She smirks.

  “He’s passable.” I smile.

  ~o0o~

  Ben’s request to work with me directly has thrown me for a loop. I can’t figure out exactly what his game is. I thought we ended on pretty bad terms last night.

  Maybe it’s what Vivian said; he just needed to go home and think about our conversation. I don’t know. I’m not going to complain. At least I’m still employed. I’ll just have to deal with him and force myself to bite my tongue when he says something asinine. This will be no easy task, but I want to keep my job. I only hope I don’t bite off my tongue in the process.

  Chapter 3

  I’m sitting in front of Vivian’s desk waiting for her to finish up a phone conversation with her son, Justin. Ever since he broke his arm, he calls her constantly. I should look over the production and planning notes we’re going to review once she’s off her call, but my thoughts are drifting.

  It’s been a week and I can’t get my mind off Ben Martin. He’s all I think about. I can’t put my finger on what it is about him that has me in such a tailspin… our heated discussion, his confidence, his cockiness, his perfect mouth or his dark bedroom eyes. I don’t know. I keep reminding myself that he’s an ass, he’s taken and I don’t want a man but to no avail. He still sneaks in and invades my psyche.

  I’m ashamed to admit that on occasion, while BOB and I were having an intimate moment shared between a girl and her vibrator, Ben’s face or his bare muscular chest would pop into my head and speed up BOB’s job.

  The only communication we’ve had has been short, to the point and by email. He forwarded the file of the new chapter I requested two days ago. I have to admit; it’s good. Really good. He is a very talented writer despite the fact that he’s…well…him.

  Once Vivian is off the phone, we review the production schedule for the books ready to print as well as art design. I love that she includes me in on this. I’ve learned more from Vivian than I did during my four years of college combined.

  “Julia, have you looked over the new Martin chapter?” she asks as she focuses on her computer screen, reviewing her work schedule. Vivian is the queen of multitasking; she always seems to have eight different balls in the air at the same time.

  “Yes, it was very good actually. It only needed some minor edits.”

  “Good. Email the file to me with your notes then schedule an appointment with Ben Martin. I’d like to get this book moving. We’re ahead of schedule. I want to keep it that way.”

  “You want him to come to the office instead of emailing the files back to him with the revisions and notes?”

  “Yes, have him come in. He’s new, he’s talented, he’s local, and he deserves some one-on-one attention while he learns the process.” She lifts her brow with a sly smile. “Anyway, I like looking at him.”

  I smile and nod in agreement. It’s very rare for Vivian to cross the professional line with a remark like that. But I love when she does, allowing me a tiny glimpse into her brilliant, and I suspect occasionally perverted mind.

  ~o0o~

  “What are you all dressed up for?” Allie asks.

  “What do you mean? I’m dressed for work.”

  “Are you working the corners today?” she asks sarcastically.

  “What are you talking about? I look professional.” I stare down at my dress. I look perfectly fine.

  “Showing off the girls is professional? Have you switched professions?” She raises a brow, staring at my chest.

  “Stop exaggerating, there’s a tiny speck of cleavage showing, it’s barely noticeable. I still look professional.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Jules. You know I’d wear that outfit; I’m just a little surprised to see you in it. It’s not your usual style.”

  “I wasn’t aware I had a style.”

  “You do. You dress like one of those tight-ass Wall Street traders, always hiding your assets.”

  “Don’t you have a train to catch?” It’s time to change the subject. I’m not in the mood for this conversation. I have enough on my mind today.

  “Yeah, yeah. I better get going. I’ll see you later.” Allie grabs her tote bag and coat and leaves the apartment.

  I walk over to the full-length mirror in my bedroom and check myself out. The emerald green wrap dress I’m wearing does hug my body a bit tight, but it’s work appropriate. It said so on the tag when I bought it, work or casual night out. The tag wouldn’t lie.

  Admittedly, it took me twenty minutes last night to choose a dress, and I woke up thirty minutes early to spend a little extra time on my hair and makeup. But it’s important that I look polished. It shows that I’m a professional and I want to be taken seriously.

  Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I know why I’m doing this. It’s B-day. Ben Martin is coming to the office today and the idiot inside of me felt compelled to look good. Really good. No sane professional would wear four and a half inch heels to work. My feet are going to be so pissed off by the end of the day.

  ~o0o~

  Most of my workday has been spent drumming my fingers on my desk, mindlessly staring at the clock. Tick, tick, tick. Ben is due here right after lunch. I have met with at least thirty other authors before, but none has affected me like Ben.

  I’m not that hungry, but I force myself to eat lunch. I’ve hardy touched the spinach salad I brought in from the deli across the street. I’m nervous, yet still a little excited to see him again.

  I look at the clock for the thousandth time today. It’s five minutes until showtime. I sit behind my desk checking out my makeup in the tiny compact mirror I keep in my top left drawer. No goop in the corners of my eyes, no streaks of blush…excellent. I pucker my lips and dab on a little clear lip gloss. I’m ready for our meeting.

  Ben walks into the office at one o’clock on the dot. I knew he’d be punctual. He seems like the type. I should probably work on that myself. I quickly throw my mirror back in my drawer. That’s right; I always look this fresh and lovely. My heart is pounding.

  Naturally he looks perfect. This guy must have made a deal with the devil; no one should look this good all the time. He’s casually dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a black ribbed turtleneck and a black leather jacket. His muscular chest fills out that turtleneck nicely, and I’ve seen the rock-hard abs he has hiding beneath it. It must be a little windy outside as his dark brown hair is a bit tousled. I have to fight the urge to walk over to him and smooth it out with my fingers.

  “Hello Julia. Nice to see you again.” He smiles, showing his perfect sparkling white teeth. I could stare at those dimples all day.

  “Ben, good to see you.” I snap out of my gawking and stand up from my chair holding my hand out to him. We politely shake hands. As our hands touch, my stomach flips. This man does things to me.

  “I’d like to apologize for our last meeting. I was out of line. I may have disagreed with you at the time, but I had no right to be rude.”

  His apology catches me off guard. He looks so sincere. I didn’t think he was the type to admit when he’s wrong.

  “Apology accepted. Let’s just move forward. I’ll let Vivian know you’re here and we can get started.”

  ~o0o~

  Vivian asks me to escort Ben into her office. “She’s ready for us,” I tell him.

  “Okay, let’s do this. Ladies first.” He extends his arm out leading me to Vivian’s office door.

  “Thank you,” I say as I walk in front of him.<
br />
  “That’s a very pretty dress, Julia. Brings out the green in your eyes.”

  “Oh, thanks.” I look down to the floor. Don’t blush. Don’t blush.

  As I pass him in the doorway, I catch him checking me out, his eyes glued on my peeking cleavage for a millisecond. Allie was right; this dress may be a bit much for the workplace. Oh well, it’s too late now. I inhale his scent as I walk by him. I don’t know if it’s cologne, body wash or plain old soap, but I wish I could stick my nose in the crook of his neck and inhale him all day.

  Vivian stands up when we walk in and they shake hands. We take our seats and begin our meeting. Most of the talking is between Vivian and Ben. His book is almost ready for publication. I try to pay attention to their conversation, but I’m so distracted not only by his good looks, but this extra something about him. I don’t know if it’s a vibe or his confident way, but there’s something that adds to his appeal.

  They’re in a deep discussion about cover art, but all I hear are words, words, words. I’m too busy staring at his shoes. I wonder if the shoe size is proportional to the size of a man’s package theory is true. He does have a pretty big foot.

  Holy crap, Julia, get your mind out of the gutter. What the hell is wrong with me? Once again, I blame Allie. Her influence is creeping into the professional section of my brain, the part that’s cool, calm, and collected. I need to shut her down.

  I snap myself out of my perverted daydream and focus back to the business at hand. Once I’m invested in the conversation, I’m back on my game. And when I’m on, I’m really on. I can tell Vivian is pleased with my contribution. She looks like a proud mother hen. I worked my ass off to get to this point in my career; I’m not going to blow my chance to shine because I’m perving over the hot guy seated next to me.

  After the editing discussion is over, we talk marketing strategies. I did my homework; studying demographics until I could recite them in my sleep. No need to pull up an excel sheet, I know my stuff. They look impressed with my knowledge. The truth is I crammed this information in my head for days. But I got the job done. I’m pretty damn satisfied with myself. All that hard work paid off.