Ugly(139)

“And this is what I found. Out of all these books,” She taps the paper on the table, “you made a total of fifteen errors.”

“That’s embarrassing,” I whisper.

“No, it’s not. It’s fantastic. It means you have an acute eye for detail, and you do a very good job. I’ve been in the industry a long time, if you haven’t noticed, and I’ve seen it change on a dime. It’s constantly evolving, but the one thing that is consistently rare to find, is an editor who has the eye for detail, and the know-how of where to steer the story to change it from good to exceptional. And those are the reasons I want you. I’m willing to negotiate.”

“You are?”

“Yes, so tell me, Lily Richards, what do you want?”

“Actually that’s not my name. Lily is, but Richards isn’t. I had to go under a pen name.” It’s the only way I can describe it without giving away why I don’t use my actual name.

“Makes sense, because when I did a search for ‘Lily Richards’ I did not find any information on you. Back to the reason you’re here. Wherever you’re working now, I’ll give you ten percent more than you’re currently earning.”

“I’m a personal assistant.”

Jolene rolls her eyes and flicks her wrist. “And your talent is being wasted there. I want you, Lily. I want you to work for us, and do what you’ve done here.” She taps twice on the glass table on top of the list of books.

“But I don’t have the qualifications to be an editor.”

“You, my dear Lily, have something much more valuable than qualifications. What you have can’t be taught; it can’t be learned. You have the most elemental understanding of a story and where to improve it. So, what do you want? I’ll give you your own office and a personal assistant.”

“Wait, I’m not moving here,” I say. Abruptly I’ve gone from a high, to a low. Because there’s no way I’m moving. “I’m sorry, I must’ve misunderstood our initial phone call, but there wasn’t any mention of moving.”

Jolene sits back and casually hooks her left arm over the back of the chair. “I had thought if you weren’t local, which I found out from Michaela you weren’t, you may refuse to move here. I think I can come up with an alternative. You can do everything via phone or email, fly out once a month so we can touch base, and I’ll have a personal assistant here for you.” She smiles triumphantly at me.

“It’s a generous offer. If I was to take it up, would I be able to still edit away from here, I mean take on my own jobs which I’d ensure doesn’t interfere with my work here.”

“No. You’d be working for us, and all your work would come through us alone.”

“I see,” I say. “Thank you for your offer. I think I’ll need some time to consider it.”

I stand, Max follows, then Jolene stands. “If you get approached by anyone else, make sure you come back to me and let me know of their offer.” She extends her hand and shakes mine, then Max’s.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Max says, and we both leave.

We walk outside and I take a deep breath, “Wow,” I say and turn to Max as we walk toward our hotel room.

“How do you feel about it?” he asks.

“Truthfully, the compliments were quite difficult for me to hear, actually. And her offer I think is okay.”

“Just okay?”

I shrug as we walk along the sidewalk. “She’s offering ten percent more than I earn now, and I can’t take on any jobs for myself. So I think I may end up earning less than what I make now.”

“I sense a ‘but’.”

“The ‘but’ is I’ll be doing something I love. And something she thinks I have talent in.”

“Then ask for more money.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Here, let’s go have a coffee. Or in your case, a hot chocolate.” Max points to a small deli, and opens the door for me. We find a seat at the back and Max goes to the counter to order our beverages. I sit and look out at the city.

It’s Saturday morning and the street looks so busy with people coming and going everywhere. As I wait for Max, I wonder if this is a place I can move to. It’s obvious there’s opportunity here, but can I actually pack up, leave the only family I know and move here?

“Penny for your thoughts,” Max says as he sets the take-away cups down. “They don’t have marshmallows.”

I look at him as if he’s speaking a foreign language. “Who doesn’t have marshmallows in their hot chocolate?” I ask as I pick up the cup and blow on it before sipping it. “I was thinking how Jolene offered me a job here, in New York. And I was wondering if I could actually move.”