Authors Note:
Hey everyone! Thanks again to those of you who commented. I'd love more feedback though- lots of feedback is good cuz then I know what you guys like/dislike and can get more ideas for the story. I actually figured out where I'm going with this story so I'm rather happy with that fact. I think I'll be able to update rather quickly next week (starting Monday)- maybe even more than a couple of chapters =). Hope you guys enjoy this slightly longer chapter. I think from now on all chapters will be at least this length but probably longer. Have fun!!
P.S. I do not claim to be an expert on Literary Agents. I haven't researched the field so do not look for accuracy in my description of the job.
You Again?
Chapter 4
"Congrats Darien I remember what an ass you were." I said without thought. "Now get out." My words apparently didn't register with him at all because his smirk didn't disappear like I'd vainly hoped.
"Oh, now its Darien. What happened to Mr. Shields?" He questioned me with an upturned brow. It was so weird- the upturned brow I mean. I can never figure out how people do it. Whenever I try I end up looking really confused because no matter what I do both my brows rise and my face scrunches up in concentration- sort of a creeper look.
But I quickly shook my head from my stray thoughts and tried to concentrate on the inane conversation.
"You prefer Mr. Shields? Well, I prefer Ms. Tsukino." I replied curtly. I walked around my desk and headed toward the door once again. "Doesn't matter either way. This conversation is over and you are welcome to leave. Actually you're not just welcome to go- it's encouraged." I gave him my worst fake smile and opened the door.
"What's the rush?" Mr. Shields had the grit to ask. He hadn't gotten up from his seat. He continued to sit but had swiveled the chair to face me. Damnit! I really wish I hadn't just gotten the cool swirly chairs. The old ones seem pretty good right now- they used to make horrible squeaking noises that made the seater feel uncomfortable. But my thoughts of chairs quickly dissipated at his next idiotic words. "Hot date?"
His smile was purely sarcastic- as if the idea of me with a date- let alone a hot one- was completely absurd to him. A series of profanities filled my mind but I refrained from voicing them out loud by gritting my teeth together. I hoped it looked menacing- and not stupid like I fear it might- to him.
"Yes, Shields. I just got to work and now I'm going to scurry off in search of my boyfriend." I replied sarcastically.
"You have a boyfriend?" He asked curiously- with a little too much surprise in my opinion. Then he smirked and pointed- quite obviously might I add- outside the open door. I followed his gaze and blinked twice as a flustered Brad quickly scrambled around on his desk pretending to be busy (and not eavesdropping like he really was) but when he found nothing to keep busy with he smiled weakly at me and gave a jerky wave. I waved back silently and closed the door that I had forgotten about earlier. I turned my attention back to Darien and rolled my eyes, he was still smirking annoyingly.
I didn't have a boyfriend actually- the words had just come out with false implications. But now- or ever actually- was certainly not the time for full disclosure. He could even think it was Brad for all I cared.
"Mr. Shields" I said emphasizing his name in mock respect, "would you please be so kind as to exit my office- actually make that this building- and leave me room to breath."
"Oh so I take your breathe away huh?" Darien asked with another one of his smug smiles that showed off his perfect and flawless teeth.
"AH!" I couldn't help my aggravation. He was such a self centered… I dunno prick? Was that the word I was looking for? I don't know- my vocabulary has always been very limited in such situations- aka when Darien is around. It had dramatically augmented back in high school but that was a long time ago and because of its disuse for the past ten years my Darien Thesaurus has greatly diminished.
I glared at him for a minute but he didn't even flinch. His usual sarcastic smile was still there- annoying me to no end might I add. I sighed warily and sat back in my chair when it was clear he wasn't going anywhere. My chair made me feel better. It gave me a sense of control even in such a situation in which I really had none.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply before I said anything. The air filled my lungs and immediately my body felt more at ease. I'd tried out yoga in college for a while- only a few weeks because I didn't really have time- but at this moment I was very glad I had. Yoga was all about breathing- or something like that. Keeping calm. Having a sense of self. Staying in control. I'm not sure if all those are really yoga related since I hadn't paid much attention but it seems right. The breathing worked to calm my nerves a bit and when I opened my eyes again to the site of Darien staring at me like I'd sprouted a second head I felt better. My turf. I reminded myself over and over again. It was like a mantra playing in my head.
My turf. My turf. My turf. My turf. My turf. My turf. My turf
It could almost pass for a song… Like if you scream the words it could be a rock classic. This is my turf. My turf. Yea yea my turf, my turf. Huh, interesting song. (I get distracted easily) I shook my head to focus then turned to him again.
"Mr. Shields." I said but this time with less malice. It actually sounded as though I were talking to any other random stranger who had walked into my office. I was impressed with myself, with my faux indifference. "What is it that I owe the pleasure of this visit to?" I couldn't help but add that one tiny sarcastic pleasure.
He blinked at me. I guess he's surprised I can act professional- not that I blame him completely since I hadn't been acting like my usual mature self since he'd come to my office.
But now that I actually thought about it I'm really curious as to why Darien Sheilds is here in this building, in my office. It doesn't make sense. This is a publishing agency for fantasy and mystery novels and novellas, Holmes Agency. I'd been working here since I graduated college with a degree in English- my specialty is classic literature but that doesn't often come in handy. But I love this job because I get to read all sorts of books and I have a large degree of power in my position. I get to approve or discard potential books. I determine the fate of hopeful authors. I love and hate it. I love when I discover a literary genius but I hate when I am forced to crush the dreams of authors- sometimes the story plot is just too flat, not enough spark, and the author's writing just doesn't have a strong voice. But I have to do it and despite the bad- crushing dreams- the good times make up for it.
On top of being an agent I edit. I don't have much to edit anymore because I'd been promoted two years ago to my current position as a Literary Agent- helping authors get published aka liking stories enough to push them through- but I still enjoy helping edit certain books. Obviously a part of my job is editing since I have to tell authors to change certain things to actually get published but the degree I do this part of my job is up to me. Technically I could pass on the books after the first cursory glance to Samantha or one of the other editors in the company but I never send a book off until I am satisfied. That's why Sam and the rest of them really don't have too much work when it comes to my authors and their books.
So as these thoughts pass through my mind my curiosity at Darien Shield's sudden appearance mounts. I don't know why he would be here.
Firstly, the only kind of book I can see a guy like Darien Shields- aka an annoying, self obsessed egomaniac who is also- no matter how much it pains me to say- incredibly smart- is either an autobiography or some really boring nonfiction book. But from what I know Darien Shields has not done anything in his life worthy of an autobiography- we don't publish those kinds of books anyway. So I assume he must be writing one of those nonfiction novels that people give their dads for Father's Day since they assume their fathers have nothing better to do with their time. But we don't publish nonfiction either so that makes no sense.
There are really only three conclusions that explain his presence here. Either A: Darien Shields is an idiot who didn't research the agency before he came and therefore thinks we'll publish his lame book, or B: Darien Shields is here to attempt to publish his lame fantasy or mystery novel, or lastly C: Darien Shields is here to simply annoy the crap out of me.
A and B both seem unlikely to me. Darien Shields is not an idiot- no matter how much I wish it were true and no matter how much I tell him he is- and Darien Shields doesn't have the imagination to write one of our books. So it has to be conclusion C. He's the same ass he's always been and he's here to irritate me. He must have seen my name somewhere and, being the annoying jerk with no life that he is, he couldn't resist the temptation to aggravate his old nemesis, Meatballhead.
I had just come to my brilliant conclusion when Darien surprised me by saying, "Actually I'm here on business, Meatballhead."
He said it with a completely serious, non-sarcastic face which surprised me. He wasn't joking. He'd come here firing away with his "Meatballhead" comments when he was here on business. That made him an even bigger annoying jerk than ever.
"Business?" I questioned him, raising both eyebrows skeptically (since I can't do the one upturned brow thing).
"Business." He repeated slowly, back to his sarcastic annoying self since he said it really slowly as though speaking to a mentally incompetent child.
"What business could you possibly have here Darien?" I questioned again, prompting him to explain further.
"I wrote a book." He said simply, as though it was obvious and he was back to his serious, professional self. It was uncanny how he could just switch between his two personas- from teenage bully to serious adult professional in merely a heartbeat.
"You wrote a fantasy or mystery novel?" I questioned, I knew, stupidly. It was obvious from his presence that he had indeed written such a book but to me it was all so weird. The Darien Shields I remember was not an imaginative person when it came to anything but insults he generously bestowed on me.
"Yes, I wrote a mystery novel." Darien replied, once again switching to the teenage bully with his slow enunciation.
"Huh." Was the only thing I could manage to say in reply. He continued to stare at me as if he were waiting for me to say something else- maybe something more intelligible than "huh".
"And you're going to be my agent." He finally supplied for me.
I stared at him for a second before bursting out laughing- a bitter, not very humorous laugh. "What makes you think that?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows at him sarcastically.
I couldn't help but smirk a little.
I hadn't seen Darien Shields- my high school arch nemesis- since high school and here he was ten years later asking for my help. Completely under my control. Payback time. I couldn't help but think, momentarily ignoring the nagging voice of the professional in me.