Ugly(138)

Max shifts in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. “Ahh…no. I arranged an appointment for you with the hotel’s masseuse. I’m not sure I’d be able to touch you like that,” he openly admits to me.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Anyway, I do have a few things planned for us.”

“Thank you.”



Last night’s massage was the best thing I ever felt. The woman, I forgot her name, was absolutely magic with her hands. When she started working on my back and shoulders, my eyes closed in bliss. Then she started on my legs and I swear I fell asleep.

When I went back to our room, I was drifting on the most perfect of waves. I loved it, every moment of it. And though Max had made a reservation at the restaurant in the hotel, we ended up ordering room service and going to bed early. Max got us a suite with two rooms and two beds, saying he didn’t want me to think he was taking the situation for granted.

And now we’re sitting, waiting for Jolene to introduce herself. Max offered to stay at the hotel, but I feel better knowing he’s here for me. We’re waiting in the meeting room on the fifteenth floor, and I’m nervous. I wipe the sweat from my hands down my pants and then pick up the water we’ve been offered and take a sip. “It’ll be okay,” Max reassuringly says.

“I know, I’m just nervous and kind of excited.”

This tiny woman, no taller than five feet barrels into the office. She has a severe bob haircut and she’s wearing red-rimmed glasses. “You must be, Lily. So pleased to meet you,” she says as she approaches me and extends her hand so I can shake it.

I stand and welcome her out reached hand. “Jolene?” I ask.

“So good to meet you. And who would this very nice-looking man be?” she says, eying Max. She may be small, but she’s a force to be reckoned with. She has to be pushing sixty, but I can tell she’s a ‘take no crap’ kind of person.

“Max Sterling, ma’am,” he carefully and slowly introduces himself.

“Oh I like this one, he calls me ma’am. Keep that up, young man.” She sits beside me and puts a file on the glass table. “Now, about you Lily. You’re younger than I thought.”

“Oh, um, okay.” I look sideways at Max, unsure on how to respond. “Thank you?” It’s more a question than a statement.

“It’s a good thing, a very good thing.” She opens the file and starts reading it. Again, I’m lost at what to think. Bizarre is most certainly a word I would use. “These are a list of your books, yes?” She hands me the paper and I see them all.

“They’re my books, well the books I’ve worked on,” I correct myself.

“Every one of these books has made a list. And I sit up and take notice when I see the same name being thanked for her proofreading and editing. And it appears it’s your name.”

“I’ve been fortunate. All my clients have been exceptional.”

“See this is what I do. I look out for someone who’s going to be a star. Authors, editors, cover artists, you name it. I watch and learn. Now, take Michaela. New York Times and USA Today bestseller with her first book, and I do believe you’ve finished editing her second book, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This is what I know. We’ve signed her, actually, she only flew out just two weeks ago and signed all the paperwork. I asked her for the original manuscript prior to it being sent to you, then I asked her for your notes on both books. She was only too happy to provide them to me. I looked at her book, looked at your notes and I took notice. Her book was good raw, but what you did to it, the suggestions you made were terrific, and truthfully, I found one error once you were done.”

“You found an error?” I ask horrified. “Oh my God!” I clasp a hand to my face, instantly ashamed of myself.

“It’s okay,” Max whispers, as he grasps my knee below the table.

“Ha,” Jolene laughs. “Dear, Max it’s more than okay. Because we’d send the manuscript to no less than three editors, then two proofreaders and sometimes there’s still errors. You did it all, and that takes a lot of talent.”

I smile. “Thank you,” I say.

“Oh no, darling, you don’t get off that easy. I thought possibly you just fluked it, so I had my team rip apart the other books you did. I needed to make sure if I offer you a job, you’re actually as good as I think you are. I had all your books edited, torn to shreds. Each line, each error, each word.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands, and I feel ill. Suddenly I have a feeling it wasn’t such a great idea to come to New York. “Oh,” I say, unable to form anything comprehensible to say.