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Chapter 25
small gestures
“So, that’s her final decision? She doesn’t even need to talk to me first?” Summer asked, so much emotion bubbling up to the surface, first from the ride home and then from this amazing news, she was afraid her cork would pop.
“Nope. Her mind is made up,” Cleo said. She was kicked back in the office chair, with her feet on the desk, cleaning her fingernails with a pocket knife. “Her decision is final.”
“I thought she’d at least want to talk to me first, discuss the details.”
“I guess your email did all the talking she needed because Sloan Chase is going to be signing her new release right here, at All Things Cupid.”
“Oh my god!” Summer clapped her hands over her mouth in utter disbelief, excitement causing her to bounce on the balls of her toes. “It’s really happening?”
“There are a few terms and demands in her contract,” Cleo went on.
“Contract?” That sounded so official. She’d never signed a contract with an author before. Then again, this was Sloan Chase.
Summer had just made an agreement with Wes that she wanted to desperately amend. Now, the idea of signing on an official dotted line for her career was so overwhelming her body didn’t know which emotion to feel. What if she regretted the terms she agreed to? What if Sloan wanted to change them but it was too late?
“Are you going to puke on me? I know how your gag reflex just loves to fuck with my life. So, I’d like to remind you I’m wearing my new biker jacket. If you puke on me, you’re puking on the whole biker gang, and they don’t take lightly to outsiders blowing chunks on their property.”
“I’m not going to throw up.”
“Ah shit. Then it’s tears.” Cleo scratched the inside of her wrist like she was breaking out in hives. She stood and puffed her chest out. “Here, puke on me instead. It’ll be less painful. For the both of us.”
“I’m not going to puke or cry. I just want to know what I’m agreeing to.”
“Little things, like she needs a green room to relax in between events.”
“Events? As in plural?”
“She agreed to do the podcast with a live audience first, take a break, and then come back for the signing.”
“My podcast?”
“Just think of how many listeners it will bring. We’re talking maybe ten thousand.”
That’s what Summer was afraid of. Not the new listeners and potential slew of new customers. That would be a dream come true. It was the pressure to be perfect that she’d battled her entire life that was making a tsunami in her stomach. What if she blanked? What if she was so star-struck she babbled on? There were so many what-ifs her brain went into overload.
“Nope. Don’t you dare spiral on me,” Cleo said firmly. “Do you know how much time I’ve spent on this event?”
“Um, exactly five minutes, because that’s how long we’ve known about it.” Cleo remained mum on the subject. “Right?”
“I may have called her publicist’s assistant, and from one assistant to another we had a long chat. Where I may or may not have brought up the fact that there is a customer who is terminal.”
It was the truth. Every Wednesday the Bosom Buddies, all women with breast cancer, met at the shop for their book club and support meeting. But to use their disease as an ace up your sleeve? “Cleo, that’s low even for you.”
“FYI, I asked the group if they minded that I used their struggle and support to help attract such a big author, and you know what they did? They preordered the woman’s book and said use away. But Sloan’s assistant told me in confidence that they were already going to say yes to the event.”
“So locking down Sloan was all on me?”
“All on you, sister. Your email must have really touched her. Because she could sign anywhere in the world and she chose here.”
Summer felt a burst of pride and gratitude in her belly, making her dizzy with excitement. “I had a friend help me,” she said, thinking back to the car ride home, when she’d drafted the email and Wes had encouraged her to go personal, really encouraging her to pull from her personal life and go with emotion not facts. Although, being the consummate numbers guy, he did throw in a few hard numerical facts about their customer base and the store’s long history in the romance community.
Summer scanned the contract and it was like reading an encyclopedia—extensive and complicated. Then she got to the last page and nearly hyperventilated.
“She wants me to spend five thousand dollars of my own money promoting this?”