"You're pacing, again", Callie tells me once again as she looks over the frame of her reading glasses from her spot on the couch where she is reading yet another script. To keep all her options open is what she said to Ashley. "Don't worry, okay?" Getting up, she stops in front of me and moves her glasses from her nose into her hair. Warm hands reach up to get a hold of my upper arms, squeezing them softly. "George will be here any moment, he'll take you to the Coffee House and everything will go as smoothly as possible. You'll see."
God, I want to believe her, so badly. But inside I am a nervous wreck already and I currently do not know how to keep it together. "Do I look professional?", I ask, insecure about my appearance and hating myself for it. Last week, when I received the call, I was beyond exhilarated. I sent Anna, my friend from overseas, an email that was full of exclamation points and happy faces. I squealed and yelled at Teddy in a voice message. She claimed I blew her eardrum, but I know she was just messing with me. Today, all I feel is a big knot in my stomach that was joined last night by the urge to constantly throw up. "I think I should change. Who wears jeans to a professional meeting? I should be wearing slacks or a pencil skirt, right? Do I have time to change? I should at least wear a pin-stripe blazer over my polo-shirt, or not?" Moving on from wringing my hands to anxiously running my fingers through my hair, I try to turn out of her grasp when I hear the door buzz. "That must be George, I better go-."
"He can wait a moment", she interjects, interrupting my train of thought as she pulls me closer. "You will be great, do you hear me? You look beautiful and most importantly, you still look like yourself. Whoever you meet is not there to judge you for your appearance. They are meeting you because you have an amazing way with words. This is about your book and you and I both know that you live for the story and the characters. But, they will likely have suggestions for modifications and you need to keep in mind that they are just doing their job. It's often not criticism to your writing, they only want to improve what is already there. Listen to them, take notes and say that you will have to think about whatever they said. You want them to publish your book, but what you don't want, is to lose the story you want to tell along the way, okay?" Finishing her short speech with a kiss that expresses more than words ever could, my muscles instantly unclench in the safety of her touch.
Breaking away from the kiss, our eyes meet and I swear I get lost in the deepest, most soulful brown orbs I have ever looked into. Yeah, no shit, A. You actually did get lost in them more than just a handful of times. Clearing my throat, I shoot her a dimpled smile. "Thank you. Now, I better get going. I love you. I'll see you later." Deciding that Callie will not have to pick up the pieces of my broken spirit and to think positive instead, I grab the leather briefcase that my parents got me for my fresh start at the university of Miami and head out the door. My girlfriend's 'I love you' reaches my ears just as I close the door behind me and walk towards the black Volvo.
"Good morning, Arizona", George greets me politely and opens the door behind the passenger seat, finally addressing me by my first name. It only took about six months. "So, today is the big day, right? Ms. Torres told me all about it when I was taking her to the office the other day." Yup, he still refuses to call Callie anything but Ms. Torres, solely because she is his employer. "She is very excited for you. And I am keeping my fingers crossed, as well." He waits until I am seated before closing the door again.
Honestly, it took me a while getting used to the idea of being chauffeured around and I made it very clear to Callie that I will not have George drive me to school every day. I do not really need a driver. Is it nice not having to worry about traffic or using public transportation with the possibility of getting lost? Absolutely. Especially on a day like this. Do I need it every day? Absolutely not and I will keep putting my foot down on this matter. "It is. And I am nervous." Not feeling overly chatty, I ask, "Would it be okay if I just zone out until we arrive at the coffee shop?"
He starts the engine and meets my gaze through the rear-view mirror, smiling at me. "You don't even have to ask. You just relax and I'll get you there with fifteen minutes to spare."
The ride is not even that long but for some reason, I feel more nervous and at the same time more at ease. Knowing that what I just described is not possible I question my own sanity and suddenly George tells me that we have arrived at our destination. "Thanks, George."
"My pleasure, Arizona. Whenever you're done and ready to head back, just text me or give me a call. I won't be far, I'll be hanging out around here checking out some stores to get everything I need for the weekend. I have planned a night under the stars for my little girl." Getting out of the car, he quickly makes his way around the back to open the door for me.
Getting out and almost forgetting my briefcase, I blindly reach for the middle seat to get my hand on the leather. "George, are you sure?", I ask while straightening out my clothes and smoothing over my hair. "If this is your weekend with your daughter, I don't want to be the reason you're running behind schedule." Having met his daughter, Lilly, a few weeks ago, I got to witness the joy in his eyes when playing with her. To him, being a father figure and making sure to be a part of her life is an honor. I would feel really awful if I got in the way of whatever he has planned. "I can just take an UBER home."
He shakes his head. "Nonsense, Arizona. It is only Wednesday and Ms. Torres has given me Friday off. It is more than I originally asked for and I fully appreciate it, but I don't need any extra time. Ms. Torres made it very clear that I am at your beck and call today, as she does not need to leave the house, and I intend to do my job." Checking his watch he adds with a wink, "Like I promised, fifteen minutes early."
"Thank you." I agree to text him whenever this meeting is over, hoping that it will take long enough for him to finish his errands but not too long so that he does not have to wait on me. Deep breath, Robbins. Callie is right. You got this. I make my way inside and find an empty booth to the right across from the coffee bar. Sitting down facing the door, I put my phone on the table in front of me and notice a text from my girlfriend, wishing me luck.
More than fifteen minutes passed and while I am on my second cup of coffee, there is no editor in sight. At least not one that's meeting you, Arizona. Of course, this could be for a number of reasons that have nothing to do with me, but I cannot help but worry. Maybe it was just some sick joke? No. Don't be crazy, Robbins. After all, there is only a selective number of people that knows you sent your book to agencies and none of these people would try to play a trick like that on you. Still, my thought are running wild. So far, I have started to rise from my seat every time a 'businesswoman' walks into the Coffee House. Which is a lot, considering that many people come in for a coffee-to-go. There are only a couple more occupied table, so I must look terribly ridiculous to everyone who is paying attention.
When finally a woman clad in dark blue slacks and a white button dress shirt walks up to my booth, I quickly decide to give it one last try and stand up. "Arizona Robbins, am I right?", she asks in a quiet voice and scoots into the booth to sit across from me after I nodded. "I am so sorry I am late. The taxi driver had no idea where this place was and crawled down the street to find it. One would think that local drivers know the areas they're working in or at the bare minimum know how to operate their car's GPS system."
She rambles on and apologizes for a good five minutes, ordering her Latte Macchiato in-between. And me? I just sit there, more than a little bit speechless and completely flustered by her beauty. Accepting the hand held out for me – although I have zero idea how my brain is functioning, never mind mustering a firm handshake like my dad taught me – I blink a couple of times to clear the fog from my head. Don't get me wrong, there was no spark of electricity behind that first touch, no captivation like the one I felt when I met Callie for the first time. Don't forget that your feelings only intensified over time, Arizona. The instant connection is missing entirely, but I can admire an attractive woman when I see one. And I cannot deny that there are certain features that strike a stark resemblance with the woman I love. Long, almost black hair, dark warm eyes – just to name a couple.
"Eliza Minnick", she introduces herself, shedding her blazer and putting it down next to her after aligning the shoulder parts. "Pleasure to meet you."
"Arizona Robbins", I reply and instantly face-palm myself, cringing at my own stupidity. "Which you already know, of course." Balling my hands into fists, I fight the urge to bite into the table. I need a hole that I can sink into so I can effectively disappear from this scene. No. Keep it together, A.
To make this whole incident worse, she snickers at my mistake. "Don't worry. It's alright. It happens more often than you can imagine." I am not sure if that is supposed to comfort me. "Come to think of it, I was just the same when I met with my editor for the first time. They ended up holding a monologue for a good twenty minutes before I could get a word out." Raising my right eyebrow and shooting her a look of disbelief, she continues. "Oh, I am not joking. I was sitting at the table with my hands clasped around the glass of water, trying not to break out in hives, listening to what Hunt had to say and wondering how they still ended up picking my book. From not enough details to too detailed and everything in-between, the list seemed to never stop. Until it did and Mr. Hunt reassured me that it sounded much worse than it was."
"W-Wait", I stutter as I finally trust my brain-to-mouth synopses again. "Are you talking about Hunt as in Mr. Hunt from Webber and Hunt?" She nods. "And you published a book?" Another nod. "Wow. So you went through the whole experience before." After yet another non-verbal confirmation, I lean back. Eliza Minnick... it does not immediately ring a bell so I try to remember if I ever read one of her books or saw her name in the bookstores.
Adding a little more sugar to her drink, she slowly stirs the liquid around in the glass, which is quite hypnotizing. "That was almost three years ago and my writing was more of a diamond in the ruff. I was still in college and basically decided on a whim that I should try writing a novel using my own experiences. After a couple of frustrating drafts, I got into a good rhythm and breezed through it, I think I finished it in under three months. The story had potential, that's what Hunt told me, but my writing needed some polishing. And with a little help, I improved and now here I am, working on both sides of the business."
Though fairly certain that this is not the common way to handle these sort of meetings, I am thankful for the little insight I got as it calmed me down immensely. Retrieving my notebook and pen from the briefcase, I place both in front of me. "So, where is that never ending list of alterations you want to talk to me about?" I was ready to take notes when I heard her laugh again.
"Let's talk business first", she proposes, pushing a contract over the hardwood table, "This is a basic contract for a first-book deal. The main thing you need to know is that at Webber and Hunt, we do not want to take away your rights of the book. It's a work of your imagination and we want you to feel assured that your rights are protected. There are a bunch of legal terms in there, concerning copyrights, royalties, deadlines, what ifs and what we're gonna base the book's price on when it's done, among other points. So feel free to consult with a lawyer or someone you trust. I know this is all very exciting, but please go over the contract before putting your signature on the dotted lines, so you don't end up having regrets." She has not looked away once and it's becoming difficult for me to keep eye contact with her, so I rather focus on the contract in front of me. "Secondly, Webber and Hunt pay in thirds. We offer every new author an advance payment of $3000. I know it doesn't seem much, but it is really just us making sure that the author doesn't jump ship and go somewhere else while we've been putting in all the work of fine-tuning the piece together with you. Once you turn in your complete work, you'll receive the second payment of the same amount and the last third is paid upon publication plus an additional two-thousand. Lastly, your opinion is valuable to us and I personally recommend trying to negotiate on terms in the contract you don't feel comfortable with instead of just throwing the whole idea out the window. Any questions?"
Okay, okay, rewind a little. God, my brain hurts. Are you sure you heard right, Arizona? "Did I understand this correctly? You're gonna pay me in advance for a book that is not yet ready to get published and then twice more? Where is that money coming from? Do I have to pay it back if the book flops and doesn't sell well?" I have, like, a million questions. And what the heck are royalties? My head is about to explode with all the cerebration running through it. This simply feels way too good to be true. At the same time, I probably should have done my homework and researched the general guidelines of how publishing deals usually work. Yeah, great job there, Robbins.
"The short answer, yes. The long answer and explanations are in the contract." Reading my reaction, which is anything but a conviction, she continues, "Look, I know it sounds odd, crazy even. And trust me, I couldn't believe it either when I signed my first deal. But it's the truth and it's all in there." Tapping the stack of stapled papers, she eventually stops talking and takes a sip of her beverage and hums in satisfaction. "This is a perfect Latte Macchiato."
There has to be a catch somewhere, right? Or maybe they just believe in your book, A. Attempting to wrap my head around everything I have just learned, I sit there with my mouth agape and a not so pretty but very confused expression on my face. I wish Callie was here. She has a really good understanding of contracts after signing God knows how many of them. Yeah, but you were just told you do not have to sign anything today, Robbins. So, try to ease up a little. "I think I have another question", I voice after being silent for a while, fidgeting around with the pen in my hand. Getting the go ahead, I ask, "If I don't sign the contract right now, do we even work on my story?"
"I suppose I could tell you the major observation that Mr. Webber pointed out after he finished reading your script; which is the beginning. I know what you must think. If he didn't like the beginning, why read the whole story? For obvious reasons, I cannot answer you how he selects the ones he continues to read, but I can tell you that I was very invested after the first short chapter. Your young characters made my heart melt. They are just super adorable." She practically swoons. "At the same time, I felt so sad for the little girl in the hospital that I was desperate to find out if she would find a new family. And by the time it happened, I was absolutely in love with the friendship you have created, and I assume Mr. Webber had a similar reaction."
"I feel a but coming...", I uttered, bracing myself for what is about to happen.
Finishing her drink as if she knows that I am getting more and more nervous with every passing second, she finally chooses to enlighten me, "But it lacks detail."
Ouch. Her words cut like a knife. It is the unvarnished truth that I have always asked of my friends and Callie, and yet hearing it from a professional makes my heart plummet to the floor. To say that I did not know that myself would be a huge lie. I tried fixing it before, but it just never felt right. Remembering the promise I made to myself, that the negative critics would not get to me, I straighten my posture. "How can I improve this without making it sound like a conversation between grown-ups?"
She raises her hand. "Their conversation is precious as it is and definitely not something that I would change too much. The prose in the early chapters on the other hand can use more elaboration to give the readers a better understanding of what is happening and how everything looks. Over the course of writing you have developed an eye for details, it shows that you imagined everything before writing it down. Missing descriptions in the beginning is not uncommon for first-time authors and even experienced writers struggle with it as they try to get to the point where they want to be. But the first few chapters are where you pick up a readers' interest, so we need to paint a better picture for first ten to fifteen chapters, and this is where I come in. I am here to help if you decide to work with us."
Work with them. Copy that, I think to myself as I nod.
"Unfortunately we are on a very tight schedule. Like Mr. Webber told you, he and Mr. Hunt want the book on display before Thanksgiving so people can see it when they're doing their Christmas shopping. Two weeks of promotional work in the local bookstores certainly need to be taken into account, maybe more along the east coast." Wait, what? "That leaves us with roughly 2 and a half months to work on it, get it overlooked by the agency's head and me, and then possibly make a few minor changes before it gets printed."
Phew. Taking a few deep breaths and exhaling audibly, my eyes once again switch between her and the contract lying still untouched on the table between us. This is so much to take in. But it's life-altering, Arizona! I need to think this through. Ultimately, it means that I will not have much time left to study. Unless you pull one all-nighter after the other, A.
"I need you to understand – and I speak from my own experience here – that you will most likely get sick of reading the same paragraph or chapter over and over again. It is unquestionably one of the most energy-draining things I have ever done in my life. But in the end, it is worth every sleepless night and every incentive to keep going pays off when you finally see your book displayed in a bookstore." Waiting a few minutes she suggests, "Take the weekend to read the contract and make a decision. Let the agency know by Monday. My card is attached to the back of the paperwork so feel free to contact me any day until then if you have a question or are unsure about any meanings. As of today, I am only here to work with you to get your work out there for everybody else to read. That is, if you are ready?"
That is the big question, Arizona: are you ready?
A/N: So, it looks like it's finally happening ;) Do you think Arizona will back out after hearing criticism on her writing and how much work she has to put in? Is she ready? Will she drop out of College for good? What will her parents say?
Let me know what you think?
Thanks for reading!