The Girl and the Genie (19 page)

“Why would that be?” she asked.

Jack shrugged. “I can’t say exactly. I suspect, though, that fate reacts violently if you try to force a romance with the wrong person. But I can’t say definitely that’s what happened here. It’s possible it was simply a coincidence that those human jackals showed up after that writer abandoned you, and that fate played no role.”

It was Emily’s turn to stew. Whatever she was thinking, she kept it to herself. Jack waited patiently for several minutes before interrupting her by asking why she simply didn’t expend a wish to ask for a large sum of money. “It would make more sense than how you’ve been using your wishes,” he offered.

“If I wished for a fortune it would end disastrously.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “I don’t believe that would be the case,” he said.

“That’s what happened with all of your past masters.”

Jack considered this and nodded. “Very true,” he agreed. “But that is what they mostly deserved. I don’t believe fate would be that unkind to you. Nor do I believe you’d have any trouble devising a foolproof wish so that you would receive your money without any problems arising. An obvious way would be for you to be the sole winner of an excessively large jackpot with the New York lottery, adding of course that your ticket is considered genuine, that no fraud is charged, that no other investigation is performed, and that all money is paid to you as required.”

Emily shook her head, her mouth pinched.

“May I ask why not?” Jack asked, puzzled. “After all, there would be no way for me to distort a wish like that even if I were inclined to do so, which I would not be in your case. And again, I don’t believe fate would wish to punish you for being wealthy.”

In a barely audible voice, Emily murmured, “It’s not what I want.”

“What is it you want?”

Emily looked away from the genie. “To fall in love with someone who truly loves me back.”

Jack, with his face scrunched up into an even more puzzled expression, said, “I don’t see how your being wealthy would preclude that.”

“How would I know whether someone was interested in me or my money?”

“That is preposterous. Your being wealthy would only help to introduce you to a different social class with people far wealthier than even you would be.”

“That’s the problem.” Emily smiled sadly at the genie. “What if the person I’m meant to meet and fall in love with has only five dollars to his name and is barely making ends meet as I am now, and not someone ridiculously wealthy?”

Jack stared at Emily for a long moment. “Aren’t you the hopeless romantic,” he said at last. “Don’t you believe love will find a way?”

Emily’s smile turned a bit sadder as she shook her head. “Not anymore.”

Chapter 19

Emily called her mom on Saturday and told her that she was back in New York, and that there was no chance for any romance between her and Ethan.

“It’s too bad you didn’t keep the new car you won,” Emily said. “It’s going to be a long time before you’ll need to pay for a wedding, if ever.”

“I’m sorry, dear,” Alice Mignon said, disappointment heavy in her voice. “What happened?”

“Not much. I got to see him for what an incredible jerk he really is. But that’s okay. He’s only an author I’m publishing. Nothing more.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Alice Mignon said this with such a fierce protectiveness that Emily knew if she answered affirmatively her mother would be getting in her car and driving back to Eden Prairie in order to tell Ethan what was on her mind. Since Emily didn’t want her mother doing that, she massaged the truth a little and told her mother that Ethan wasn’t very nice to her, but that was the extent of it and that she was okay now.

“What did he do?” Alice Mignon asked with that same quiet fierceness.

“It’s not worth wasting any more effort talking about him.”

Alice Mignon must’ve realized that she needed to let the matter drop for Emily’s benefit, so she did, and the two of them spent the next half hour talking about life in Manhattan and Des Moines, with plenty of questions from Alice regarding how Winston was doing.

On Monday, Emily went back to her office surprising Mr. Pish and others who expected her to still be in Minnesota. Normally she would’ve had Winston with her at work, but she had felt exceptionally anxious that morning, and she ended up summoning Jack to dog sit Winston. Mr. Pish waited until ten o’clock before calling her into his office to explain why she was no longer in Minnesota.

“There was no point in me staying there any longer,” Emily told her boss once she was seated across from him with his office door closed. “He made it clear that he wasn’t going to consider any edit suggestions from me.”

Before Emily had left to Minnesota, she went over the manuscript with Mr. Pish and had his agreement on the changes that she wanted made. “You’re the one who wanted to publish him,” Mr. Pish complained, his mouth pinching bitterly to show his annoyance.

“I know.”

“Is there a reason why he’s refusing to accept edit changes, or is he simply the delicate genius type?”

Emily shrugged. “He claims it’s because I’m a graduate of Iowa State University while he went to Yale, so he’s intellectually superior to me and my judgment on the matter doesn’t count. But he did commend me on having just enough intelligence to recognize how brilliant his book is.”

Mr. Pish leaned further back in his chair and interlaced his stubby sausage-like fingers as he rested his hands on his belly. Emily knew that he had graduated from Binghamton University and that it infuriated him to no end when one of the other senior editors lorded his Harvard degree over him.

“So he’s one of those types,” Mr. Pish said, his eyes pale and unblinking as he stared at Emily.

“Yep.”

Mr. Pish steepled his fingers and brought his fingertips up so they rested lightly against his chin. “What are you going to do?”

“Ask that you support me on what I need to do next.”

Mr. Pish resembled a wax sculpture more than a living, breathing man as he continued to stare at Emily without showing the slightest movement. After an interminably long ten count, a spark showed in his eyes as he appeared to finally come back to life. He lowered his hands so that his fingertips rested on his desk, then nodded slowly, his mouth pushing into a sour expression. “Up to a point,” he said. “Tell me exactly what you plan on doing.”

Emily did, and Mr. Pish’s sour expression changed so that it was more like he was suffering from a severe case of indigestion. While there was some back and forth as he complained about the investment they had made in Ethan Blake and other matters regarding the publishing of Blake’s book, in the end he agreed to what Emily had asked for. It was a good thing that he did. If he hadn’t, Emily had already decided that she’d use one of her remaining four wishes to take over ownership of the publishing company, which would’ve created an awkward situation for Mr. Pish. As she got up to leave, Mr. Pish cleared his throat and inquired about the health of her Bulldog, adding that he hoped nothing had happened to the dog.

“He’s fine,” Emily said. “I left him with a friend today, but I plan to bring him back to work with me tomorrow.”

“Good, good,” Mr. Pish murmured approvingly. He forced an uncomfortable-looking smile. “He adds a bit of class to the office. I daresay he was missed around here last week.” After clearing his throat some more, he added, “As were you.” Then, his ears reddening, he busied himself with paperwork until Emily left his office.

Later that morning Emily called Ethan. When he answered, he offered a halfhearted apology for leaving her at the lake. In a voice that dripped with smugness, he said, “I assumed that neither of us wanted to see the other right then and that you’d be happier arranging for a taxi service to take you back than to ride with me. But I do apologize if it caused you any inconvenience.”

Emily didn’t bother telling him that arranging for a taxi service would’ve been impossible since there was no available cell phone signal where he had left her, or about what happened to her later because of him. Instead she gritted her teeth and in as cool a voice as she could manage told him she was calling about his manuscript.

“I thought I made my point clear that I’m not changing anything,” he said.

“You did. I’m calling now to see if you’ve reconsidered.”

“No, and I don’t believe that I will.”

“That’s too bad,” Emily said. “Now let me make my point clear. If you read your contract carefully, you’ll see that we have the right to make any changes that we feel are necessary. But I’m not about to do your work for you. Unless you’re willing to cooperate with us and act in good faith, I’ll be shelving your book. You’ve already received half of your advance, but you won’t get another penny from us if that happens. And again, if you read your contract carefully, you’ll see that we can hold your book for another thirty months without publishing it, at which point the rights will revert back to you. You could try finding another publisher then, but there’s little chance anyone would pick you up. You’d be considered damaged goods. An author who’s too difficult to work with.”

“You really are just a frustrated, little ball buster, aren’t you?” Ethan said, his voice tight and seething with contempt.

“Call me back when you’re willing to talk reasonably about the edit changes I’m asking for,” Emily said, acting as if she was unfazed by Ethan’s insult. “Or don’t. It’s your choice.”

Emily hung up then. A coolness filled her head as she sat and stared straight ahead, too angry to pay much attention to what she was looking at. For a long moment she fantasized about having Jack turn Ethan into something soft and squishy after all, but she forced herself to stop doing that. She’d been letting herself slip into those fantasies ever since Jack brought her back to New York. She knew it wasn’t healthy and that she had to stop doing it. She couldn’t keep letting Ethan have any sort of power over her, especially the power to upset her any further. She took several deep breaths and was mostly okay after that. Her phone rang. It was Ethan calling her back.

“What if I called your boss and told him that you’re threatening my book because I rejected you?” Ethan asked.

Emily laughed at that. “Go ahead,” she said. “Call him and tell him how you pulled your dick out for me to suck and when I refused, you peevishly announced how you weren’t going to make any of the changes I was asking for because you’re intellectually superior to me due to the fact that you went to Yale. You can also tell him how you drove off, leaving me abandoned at a remote lake. See how much that helps you. My guess, my boss will be looking to cancel your contract and sue you for the part of the advance that you’ve been paid so far. And you should probably ask yourself if there’s much chance of another publisher picking you up after that. But, fine. If you want, I’ll transfer your call to my boss right now.”

“
Please do
.”

Emily transferred the call. Ten minutes later Mr. Pish strolled over to her cubicle and shook his head, offering a sympathetic grimace.

“I just got off the phone with your Mr. Blake,” he said. “You really know how to pick your authors.”

“Yeah, I know,” Emily said. “He seemed more charming at first.”

“They all do. There’s a trick to ferreting out the Ethan Blakes of the world. You’ll learn over time.” Mr. Pish hesitated for a moment as he stared bug-eyed at Emily, his expression turning more stern. “How much of what he told me is true?”

Emily sighed. “I don’t know what he told you. But everything I told you earlier was true.”

Mr. Pish gave her more of his bug-eyed stern look before relenting. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I told him that you’re the editor in charge of his book, and that I support all of your decisions fully. And that if he ever wants to see his novel published that he needs to treat you with the respect you deserve.”

Emily felt her eyes brimming with tears. At that moment all she wanted to do was jump out of her seat and hug Mr. Pish for supporting her like he did. It wasn’t his stiflingly thick musk cologne that stopped her, but knowing how embarrassing the gesture would be to him, and that what he was looking for from her was detached professionalism. So instead she kept herself seated and nodded thanks to her boss, who gave her one last bug-eyed stare before telling her to be more careful next time.

After Mr. Pish walked away, Emily found herself more relaxed than she had been since Jack rescued her. There was still a low simmering anger in the pit of her stomach, and this anger only flashed hotter every time she found herself thinking of those bikers and what they intended for her. The same happened when her thoughts drifted to how Ethan had left her in harm’s way. She knew she was going to have to work on this. She couldn’t allow herself be consumed by this anger, but it wasn’t going to go away overnight. Over time she’d find a way to rid herself of it. At least she was finally able to stop fantasizing about having Jack turn Ethan into something soft and squishy.

An hour later, Ethan called, his voice whinier than she’d heard at any other time.

“What if I strongly disagree with one or more of your edit demands?” he asked, the aggrievement in his tone making his voice even whinier.

“If you can write a compelling enough argument to convince me, then fine. Otherwise, I want an updated manuscript reflecting the changes I’m asking for by the end of the month.”

“The end of the month? But that’s only three weeks away!”

“I suggest you get started then. And in the future, I’d prefer all of our communication to be through email.”

She ended the call then and realized that her hand was shaking. Not dramatically, but still enough to where she could hold her hand out in front of her and see the tremors. She broke out laughing.
Damn, I could use a drink right now, she thought. Hell, maybe more like a few drinks.
She became giddy with the idea of it. It was just after one o’clock and on an impulse she called Mr. Pish and told him that she was heading out for an old-fashioned three martini lunch, and asked if he’d like to join her, her treat, of course, for him having her back earlier. Any other day Emily would never have done something like that, and it surprised her when after a long silence Mr. Pish spoke up and told her that would be a splendid idea.