Episode 30: The Bet

A/N:

We're almost at 20K reads so I'm gonna say 'thank you' in advance! This book is so precious to me ugh ❤️ and I'm exceptionally happy that so many of you are patiently reading it.

Episode 30: The Bet

"What's the minimum print run for this book? If it's less than one hundred thousand I don't want to hear it."

Charles, the other half of this publishing firm and a commonly known ghost to the business until revenue time rolled around, huffed unpleasantly.

His eyes squinted at Christopher in a supercilious way that was obvious to everyone present.

That being the two of them and Collins who actually deserved to be called an owner of this establishment.

After all, he was the sole reason why this place functioned the way it did and why writers trusted him to renew their contract after the initial 3 years, 5 years and even 7 years mark. He had a knack for making someone feel like family even in the most profit-driven surroundings.

However, Charles was the total opposite of that.

He was the shining example of a capitalist in its highest form.

He did not care about whether or not you felt at home; much less whether your needs were met—may that be as an author or solely as a human being in his company.

He was notorious for living by the numbers and always said they "didn't lie" when it came to someone's value, so it wasn't surprising that he was the one to have this candid conversation with Christopher.

"It's exactly one hundred thousand. When you get more orders, which I'm sure you will, we'll mass produce some more and your royalties will match the value as promised."

The message behind his words were clear: "we'll only print more books once we're sure you'll be able to sell that much, you bastard."

With a sly smile lingering on his lips, he reached for the cup of coffee before him and took a sip while Christopher's fist folded as he gazed out the window pensively.

Usually, he wasn't fazed by these kinds of things. After all, it was business. He knew that no matter how many books he wrote and sold, there was no such thing as family here.

If he didn't have any worth in their monetary gains, there was no need for him to still be here.

However, it has been four days since he'd last seen a particular woman and down to the smallest inconveniences made him atypically irritable and edgy.

He had no other explanation as to why he felt that way other than the fact that he hadn't been blessed with her infiltrating gaze and playful smile.

Therefore the man felt like a drug addict on withdrawal.

He was sensitive, restless and even anxious.

If she kept this up, the man was bound to collapse from all these symptoms.

It wasn't like he didn't try reaching out to her. He did. On several occasions. However, all he ever received was her voicemail which had him questioning whether or not she blocked his phone number.

She wouldn't possibly, would she? He considered it for a fraction of a minute.

The man couldn't understand just what he had done and said that was so terrible.

Should he have not been honest? Should he have hidden the fact that he'd been involved with Marley? Denied it to the very end?

The last time Christopher checked, he was certain women valued honesty in a relationship.

Now he felt like he didn't know so much about having one at all.

Unknowingly, he released a heavy breath.

That drew the attention of Mr. Collins.

"Charles, I know where your concern lies but Christopher is our number one author here. With how much you equate numbers to worth, you should see every year that he's the bestselling creator we've got. It is, quite frankly, insulting of you to question his influence and craft by holding back on distributions."

"Oh is that so?"

The air went from tense to completely stifling and it was Collins' silence that broke Christopher's Leslie-filled reverie.

He had realized only then how dire the situation was.

"Well, if that's the case then I'm going to lay my cards out on the table and make a bet. Are you interested, Collins?"

The man's brows furrowed and his disposition was opposing.

Charles laughed before turning to the main character of this dispute.

"How about you, Christopher? Are you willing to make a bet to save your pride?"

"If my pride revolved around something as trivial as book sales, that would be downright embarrassing, wouldn't it, Mr. Charles?"

The dig at him was not missed and no longer was anything in the conversation funny to him.

His face became grave.

"Unless anyone is willing to take responsibility for the loss, then it's going by my numbers."

He stood up and adjusted the coat of his suit.

Christopher's piercing blue eyes watched him stealthily as he began to leave the room.

He froze at his next words.

"If it's taking responsibility we're talking about, then that changes the entire narrative of what you were saying."

Charles swirled around like a lion who found its prey.

"Does it now?"

Christopher refrained from doing something childish like rolling his eyes. Instead, he adjusted the watch on his wrist.

"Print the numbers I told you. I'll take responsibility if anything happens."

Collins shot up out of his chair.

"Christopher—"

"I'll be holding you accountable for your words then, Author Wells." Charles intervened, like he'd been waiting for him to say that this entire time.

He left the meeting room and Collins faced Christopher in disbelief.

"Why'd you take him up on his offer? He was baiting you, how could you not see that?"

"I know. I'm not stupid." He revealed.

"Then why..."

"I'm not trying to see who's going to be right or wrong here. I'm just securing my fan's accessibility to my newest work. If it just so happens the numbers don't match his expectations then so be it. I've always put their needs above mine anyway and it's not going to change now because of profits."

Collins looked seconds away from tearing his hair out.

"And let's say...those dear fans of yours fail you? What happens then?"

Christopher looked up at him deadly calm.

"They won't."

***

SLURP.

Slurp. Slurp.

Leslie glared at her best friend before succumbing to the will of cursing him out after what felt like an eternity of him sipping his milkshake.

"What?" Eddie said innocently. "It's been a while since I've had one of these. Don't ruin my cheat day because you're in a pissy mood."

She threw the cushion at him which he successfully evaded with a timely bend of his head.

He looked at her from across his space in the kitchen as she brought her legs up to her chest on the couch.

"You're a nut bucket, you know that? I've been asking you for days now what's your problem and you haven't told me. If you don't want me to help, why'd you ask me to keep you company? To be your punching bag?"

"You're talking too much," she mumbled, her hands reaching up to massage her temples.

She was feeling a headache coming on.

He gasped, feigning offense.

"I think you should really get your knickers out your ass crack and stop being such a stick up my ass."

With the way he huffed and stomped like a child she thought he'd disappear to his room, but instead he came right over and sat next to her. "Is it about him?"

Her neck snapped to the side.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Him. That famous, best selling boss of yours. Is he the one who got on your nerves, so now you're getting on mine?"

Leslie shivered at Eddie's quick deduction.

Once again, he proved to be more quick-witted about her feelings than anyone else in the world did. Even her own parents.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Her friend sighed, leaning forward to get a better look at her with his hands clasped. He was also hoping she would take a glance at him and see how serious he was. "I know it's not my place to say but as I've said before, I don't think it's a good idea to become involved with your boss. Think about all the complications it will bring—if it hasn't already—and I don't think you're ready for that kind of pressure and outwardly attention."

Leslie thought about it for a millisecond before covering her face with her hands. "I think it's a little too late for that, Ed."

For some reason, he felt his heart stop.

"Why?" The word was nothing but a mere whisper.

She looked up at him with glossy eyes and a bruised heart.

"Because I've already fallen in love with him."

"W-What?"

"I know, it was stupid of me. I know that the most ideal man wouldn't be one who is so engrossed in other universes that it'd be difficult for him to completely understand mine. I know that he wasn't the type to feel something as profound as love, much less giving someone like me the time of day. I also know how insanely, emotionally scarred he is from whatever past he's revealed to me and the others that he continues to hide away. I know how much it is for him to appease someone as high maintenance as I am and my constant need for assurance. I know all of this...I know it all, yet why do I still want him more than I've ever wanted anyone or anything in my life?"

Eddie didn't know how to react to all of this.

Frankly, it was as shocking as it was heartbreaking to him.

He had never seen Leslie this shaken up over a love affair she has with someone — may it be a casual fling or a steady relationship.

He'd seen it all being by her side all these years. The good, the bad and the downright dirty.

However, he'd never seen her so vulnerable.

At least not taking into consideration the grievances she had between her and her family.

After that, he'd never seen her get emotionally distraught over any interpersonal relationships.

Especially not over a guy.

He could hardly bring himself to believe what was before his eyes; much less to not feel somewhat bitter and...jealous?

Eddie watched as she wiped at her eyes that have given up in holding back the tears.

Then finally, he reacted by rubbing a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. He removed the glasses from his nose, and without any notice, gathered her into his arms. His dark eyes were blank as he hugged Leslie and then they seeped into a pool of sadness as she sobbed into his chest.

"I..." she hiccuped. "I don't know why I'm being like this. I'm s-sorry."

Her hands gripped his biceps harder as she cried into his shirt.

"It's okay," he hummed the words over and over while patting at her hair in comfort.

Leslie didn't know when and how but the next day she woke up in her bed with a note on her drawer.

She took up the piece of paper with adjusting eyes.

The sheets, under which she had been carefully tucked, slipped below her waist as she sat up and read the boldly written words.

You said that you know all that and more but I hope you also know that you're far too important and valuable to cry like that over anyone.

Don't ever let me see you like that again, Leslie Quinn.

- Love, Ed. x