by T. L Smith
Luke laughs and looks at me. “She’s drunk. She might let me.”
“I might let you do something else I don’t normally do, but no babies. Not right now.”
“I can play with your boobs again?” Luke asks, raising his eyebrows. “I’m so glad you’re done breastfeeding.” Lexi shuffles closer and I take that as my cue to leave. Before Luke and Lexi got married and he moved to Brooklyn with her, Luke lived with me in Manhattan for a while. I know what’s next on their agenda, especially if Lexi’s been drinking. I’ve heard it—and walked in on it—enough that if I never witness them again, it would be too soon.
They’ve been together for a little over three years now, and the “honeymoon stage” never wore off. I can roll my eyes at them all day, but the truth is, I’d kill for something like that. I thought I had it once, and when it was taken away, I almost destroyed the fragile relationship I had with Luke to get revenge.
I was so desperate to make him hurt the way I was hurting I even got Lexi involved. It’s a fucking miracle they talk to me, let alone trust me to watch their children. Sometimes I don’t think I deserve it. And I know I don’t deserve a sister-in-law as good as Lexi.
“Thanks for watching the girls,” Luke tells me, stepping away from Lexi. “We appreciate it, and it’s nice getting a night out.”
“It’s no problem,” I say. “They’re good girls.”
“They are.” Luke turns to Lexi, grinning. “That’s why we should have another. Maybe we’ll get a boy this time.”
“I wouldn’t know what to do with a boy. And we have a lot of pink.” Lexi hops off the stool. “I’m gonna go check on the girls. Thanks again, Cole.”
“You’re welcome.”
Lexi gives me a hug and then weaves her way around the dog, picking up the cat off the back of the couch, and disappears upstairs, leaving me alone with Luke. It’s not awkward if I don’t think about it too hard. Standing here with him reminds me of how shitty of a brother I was. Not just since he met Lexi, but since we were teenagers.
“You’re always welcome to come over and play with the girls. They’d like it,” Luke tells me, and I wonder if Lexi fed him that line. She’s worried I’m lonely.
“Thanks. And I will. Have a good night.”
Luke raises his eyebrows. “Oh, I will.”
I just shake my head. “Right.”
“Unless I go upstairs and she fell asleep. Which is entirely possible, dammit.”
I chuckled and put on my shoes. “Better get up there, then.”
Luke nods and runs his hand through his hair. Yep. This is awkward for him too. “Drive careful.”
“Carefully,” I correct, and then wince. It’s a habit to correct everyone’s grammar. “I will.” I close the door behind me and jog down the stone steps to my car. Leather crunches as I sink into the driver’s seat, and the engine roars when I start the car. I back out of the driveway, dreading the drive from Brooklyn into the city, though it’s not really the length that bothers me.
It’s because for the time it takes to get from Brooklyn to my house in Manhattan, I’m alone with my thoughts. Thoughts I don’t want to have, and those thoughts lead to feelings I want even less.
Because no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise, I can’t deny it. Seeing my brother and his wife so happy and in love makes a deep feeling of unease grow inside of me, and I hate myself for it. They’re either defying the odds or it’s a matter of time before everything falls apart.
Because I don’t think true love exists.
I am the villain in my own life story.
Being the first one here Monday morning reminds me of how much I’ve fucked up in the past, of how much of a fucking miracle it is that I have the few friends I do. I push my shoulders back and drink my coffee, looking down at the busy Manhattan street below, wondering if I’ll ever be the hero.
Heroes are inherently good.
Don’t cave to the darkness.
Don’t relish in the satisfaction of revenge.
Have hearts of gold. Do the right thing no matter how much it screws themselves in the end.
Heroes make the world a better place.
I’m damned to be the bad guy. And everyone knows bad guys never get a happy ending. They live out a short reign of fake happiness before the hero rushes in and pulls it all out from under their feet and the world cheers. No one wants to see the bad guy ride off into the sunset, arm-in-arm with someone who makes him a better person. No, the bad guys have to be taken off their feet, given their just desserts for all the shit they did.
And then they’re forgotten about.
With a sigh, I turn away from the window and sit at my desk, ready to get to work and get my day started. Though it really never feels like it ends. Work is important to me. Work keeps me busy. Keeps me grounded. And work is pretty much all I fucking have. I enjoy my job, really, I do. Reading has offered an escape for me since I was old enough to pick up my first book, and having a job that pays me to read is a dream come true. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like correcting people’s grammar.
I start my day by checking my emails, handling things outside the publishing house before working on in-house projects. I’ve replied to three emails when my office phone rings. My brows push together and I stare at the phone, seeing that the call is coming from inside the building. No one is here to be calling me yet. No one in the editing department at least.
I sigh, sure whoever is on the other line is going to tell me about some sort of problem, and answer.
“Hello, Cole,” a cool, level voice comes from the other line. “It’s Caitlin Black.”
Fuck. I was not expecting a call from one of the owners of the publishing house this early. Or today. Or ever. Caitlin inherited her position as publisher and owner from her grandfather, who founded the company. It’s obvious she lacks passion for it, and spreads her misery by insulting any and everyone in the building anyway she can.
“I’ve got some good and bad news, and you know how I don’t like to sugarcoat anything, so I’ll just get right to it.”
“All right.” I reach for a pen in case I need to take notes. My heart speeds up and I press the phone against my ear.
“I’m retiring at the end of the year and the board has decided you’re a candidate to take my position. You can decide what’s the good and what’s the bad in that. Before we move forward, I need to know if you accept or decline.”
I blink. Inhale. Exhale. What just happened? “Of course I accept. It’s an honor to be considered a candidate.”
“Great,” she drones dryly. “We’ll review your performance at the end of the year and come to a decision.”
She hangs up without a formal goodbye, and I’m left motionless from the bomb she just dropped. Though, it’s a good bomb. Well, other than knowing I’ll be more under the fucking microscope than ever for the rest of the year.
Becoming a publisher was part of my plan the day I took the assistant editing job here at Black Ink years ago. I’m not one to settle, and I set the bar high. Though wanting to be a publisher in a company that historically only employs family as publishers was an unrealistic bar.
And now it might happen. Fuck, is that excitement I’m feeling? I close my eyes and push it away. I try not to feel anymore. That didn’t work out so well in the past, and I really don’t want to fuck up the family life I’ve miraculously scraped off the pavement. Luke and Lexi forgave me once.
I know I won’t get lucky again.
Besides, it’s not a done deal yet. I’m just being considered, though I see no reason not to promote me. I’ve devoted my whole fucking life to this job.
I give myself just a minute to think about it, then snap back to reality. And reality is that I have a shit ton of work to do. An hour later, the rest of the office begins to fill. I get up to get more coffee from the break room.
“Hey, Cole,” Lexi says as she fills her cup. She’s standing at the counter next to Jillian, her best fr
iend and fellow Black Ink editor. “Have you recovered from your wild Friday night?”
“Hardly.” I set my coffee mug down and grab the pot.
“Thanks again. It was really nice getting out of the house and having a few kid-free hours.”
Jillian shakes her head. “I can’t believe you want another.”
My eyebrows go up, but I don’t say anything. Lexi was so sick at the beginning when she was pregnant with Harper that she ended up hospitalized and then on bedrest for nearly three months. Why anyone would want to go through that again is beyond me.
“A bunch of us are going out for lunch today,” Lexi says. “Wanna join?”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I have phone calls to make.”
Lexi pulls her lips in around her teeth and nods. “Okay.” She takes a small step closer to me. “You don’t have to keep punishing yourself.”
I keep my eyes on the coffee sloshing around in the glass pot in front of me. I’m still not used to how perceptive my sister-in-law can be at times.
“I’m not.”
“Keep telling yourself that. It’s time you enjoy life.”
Another editor from the press walks in and Lexi changes the subject to Emma Stark—one of Black Ink’s most popular authors—and how she’s the first one to know how Emma’s series ends since she does the edits for her. I make the minimal amount of small talk I can with the other editors and then head back to my desk. I get a few more emails answered when one comes through from Caitlin Black, with a blank subject line. I mouse over it, little arrow hovering for a few seconds before I click. We spoke maybe an hour ago. She better not be saying she fucking changed her mind and isn’t retiring. I take another drink of coffee and click.
Cole-
I see one of your part-time editors just acquired a new project. She already has more projects per hour than everyone in the building. Including you. Fix this.
Well, fuck. I set my coffee down and roll my neck. The book she’s referring to is one Lexi just took on and is super fucking excited about. Lexi is smart. She might overextend herself and take on more than I’d recommend, but she’s not going to do a bad job.
Rubbing my forehead, I pull up a file listing out everyone’s projects. Lexi does have a lot going on right now, and two books have release dates less than a month apart. Plus she edits indie books at home. And raises her children. And puts up with Luke. I don’t know how she fucking does it.
Everyone else is just as swamped. Everyone except for me. I don’t take on as many books since I manage the others. I have nothing releasing in that timeframe. I could edit this book, but I don’t want to take a project away from Lexi.
And I don’t do romance.
I sigh and pick up my office phone. I dial Lexi’s extension. At least she despises Caitlin as much as I do.
“Hey Cole, what’s up?”
“I’ve got some bad news,” I start, shaking my head at what I’m about to say. “I recently talked with Caitlin Black.”
“That’s the bad news, right?”
“Hah. Talking to her is bad news.” I inhale and hesitate for a second, considering telling Lexi about the possible promotion. “She said you have too many books.”
“People have been telling me that for years. I say it’s not a problem with having too many books. It’s a problem with having not enough shelves.”
“She didn’t mean it that way.”
“Fuck,” Lexi sighs. She has a bit of a potty mouth, which surprised me. When our relationship was strictly professional, I never heard her drop an f-bomb. Fuck is one of my favorite words, so I’m not complaining. “I know what you mean. Is she going to make me drop one?”
“Yeah. The newest one by, uh…” I open the file again, looking at the data. “By Scarlett Levine.”
“But that book is so good. The first book hardly requires any plot changes at all. It’s solid and we’ve already talked on the phone about stuff. And she sent me the first three chapters of book two. It makes no sense to drop this.”
“I know,” I agree. “But you know Caitlin doesn’t understand. Or care.” I run a hand through my hair. “Do you have time to come in here? We can go over everything and try to make your schedule work.”
“Yeah. I can come now.”
I hang up, knowing Lexi is more upset about this than me. She doesn’t take on a book she doesn’t believe in, and having something taken away from you after you’ve invested time and emotion into it fucking sucks.
But that’s Caitlin fucking Black for you. It makes sense, actually, that she throws around as much authority as she can her last year. She inherited her position, and despite her know-it-all attitude, I think she’s all too aware that she’s under-qualified. Hence why she’s such an asshole. People will be so happy when she’s finally gone.
Lexi and I spend over an hour plotting and planning, outsourcing what we can, and come up with a solid schedule. A solid, practical schedule. And Caitlin strikes again, threatening to pull marketing dollars away from a book that “can’t be well edited and put together” since Lexi’s schedule is full.
Another hour and a migraine later, I get off the phone with Caitlin and call Lexi back in my office to deliver even more bad news.
“So,” Lexi sighs, looking defeated. “Are you telling Scarlett Levine or am I?”
Want more? You can get Bad Things here.