Original Sin. Tasmina Perry

‘What?’

      Mimi stood up and started pacing behind her desk. Against the bright light she looked silhouetted.

      ‘If you’d acted as soon as I said I was interested in the fucking script, we wouldn’t be in this position,’ she muttered. Brooke could read between the lines of Mimi’s angry frustration; she had seen this before. Mimi believed in the book, she could see its potential, but she didn’t want to pay a penny more than she had to for it.

      ‘Did you call Vanessa?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Good. Call the author, ask if she’s signed a contract with the Friedmann Agency. If she hasn’t, make her an offer directly.’

      Brooke shook her head. It was hugely unethical to say the least, possibly even actionable should Vanessa choose to claim – not unreasonably – that she had already begun negotiations on the deal.

      ‘We can’t do that,’ protested Brooke.

      ‘Oh yes you can,’ said Mimi brusquely. ‘Do it now and let’s get this wrapped up by the end of the day.’

      When Brooke left the office, her heart was thumping. To stitch Vanessa up would blacken her name with one of the most respected agents in New York. Mimi might have the arrogance to do it, but could she? And anyway, it wasn’t Mimi who had to suffer the consequences. Sitting back down behind her desk she took a few moments to do some breathing she had learnt at yoga class. It did nothing to calm her down. She was trapped. If she defied Mimi, she risked being frozen out in the department, and if she went straight to the author, Vanessa Friedmann might well use her influence to put an end to her career in publishing. She longed to phone David to ask his advice, but he was on his way to Darfur to film a documentary for the network. Feeling the beginnings of tension headache, she tapped out an email to Edward Walker.

      Hi Edward,

       Mimi and I both love the slush-pile manuscript. Remember we discussed it – New Harry Potter? Author now with Vanessa Friedmann so advance may go high. Authorization to pay up to four hundred thousand dollars?’

      She pressed send and took a long swig of water from the bottle on her table, her hands trembling as she twisted the top off. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Perhaps never.

      She jolted when she heard the ping of her message inbox.

       If you think it’s that good, yes. Edward.

      She snatched up the phone. ‘Vanessa, it’s Brooke.’

      ‘Glad you don’t hang about. What’s your offer?’

      ‘Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.’ Brooke pressed her hand onto the table as she said it. As she lifted it up she could see an imprint of her fingers.

      Vanessa snorted. ‘Come on, Brooke, don’t insult me. You know what I said earlier.’

      ‘Two hundred and fifty in today’s climate is a great offer, Vanessa. You know how difficult young adult books are to call. For every J. K. Rowling or Stephanie Meyer there’s a thousand others in the remainder bin.’

      ‘I have my client to think about.’

      What would Tess Garrett do? thought Brooke, picturing her steely, slightly frightening new publicist.

      Brooke cleared her throat. ‘Your client sent her manuscript to Yellow Door and we’d already made contact, in fact we were going to make an offer directly to Eileen today. Unless you have actually signed a contract with Eileen, I think our lawyers can argue that we have precedent. You don’t want to lose your commission, do you? Fifteen per cent of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars is a lot of money, Vanessa.’

      There was a long pause, so long that Brooke was beginning to think Vanessa had already hung up.

      ‘I can’t consider anything below four hundred thousand dollars,’ she said finally. Brooke could imagine her sitting in her midtown office in her Armani trouser suit, her mouth pursed into nothingness.

      ‘Three hundred thousand,’ said Brooke. ‘We’ll allocate a six-figure marketing spend to make sure it hits retail with a splash.’

      ‘And three hundred thousand would just be US rights?’

      Brooke wondered how far she could push it. ‘Three hundred thousand. Three-book deal. US rights only,’ she said firmly.