Page 9 of Toni and Addie Go Viral

Toni

Two days later, Toni was fumbling on her nightstand for the phone that had been playing soothing rainforest sounds until it started blaring Emily’s ringtone.

“Em? Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you calling at—” She looked at the phone.

“—eleven in the morning?” Toni didn’t quite pet the surly cat who was now kneading her legs and staring at her, as if daring her to yelp.

Her trip away from him, even though he had had a cat sitter, had put her in the very obvious position of penitent owner.

Despite her best efforts, she yelped. “Damn it. That hurt, Oscar Wilde.”

“Aw, is my sweet monster nearby?” Emily’s professional voice gave way to the cajoling tone that Oscar Wilde elicited from otherwise reasonable people. “Tell him his Emmy misses him.”

The cat started purring, somehow still shooting glares at Toni.

“Did they all pass?” Toni blurted. “The publishers, I mean… did they pass on the book?”

“No.” Emily took an audible breath. “We have a four-way situation. Initial offers came in, but I was trying to let you sleep after you growled the first time I called.”

“Oh. Right.” Toni vaguely recalled trying to answer the phone. “I’m awake.” She reached out to pet Oscar Wilde briefly. Being his human took patience. “Wait. Four-way what?”

“ Auction. Four editors were competing, but Greta Clayborne wanted it more. She’s good, talented, and keeps her hands in the marketing, too.”

Toni sat up, unsettling Oscar Wilde. “An auction for my book? So several people wanted it?”

“Yes.”

Toni stood and made her way to the kitchen, accompanied by Oscar Wilde’s loud purrs and louder meowing.

“What was the offer?” Toni’s hand tightened on the phone. Surely, auction meant more than ten thousand, right?

“It’s not the final offer,” Emily hedged.

“Lower than ten?” Toni was clearly not fast enough at opening the can of cat food as Oscar Wilde swatted her ankle, making her yelp.

“The first offer was two fifty. Each.”

“So five hundred dollars for two b—”

“Sweetie, no. Five hundred thousand dollars for two books,” Emily corrected gently.

Instead of putting the dish of cat food on the floor, Toni slid down and sat on the floor alongside the cat food. She spilled the food as she leaned on the cupboard. Oscar Wilde gave her a bit of side-eye, but his tail was up, and he was chowing down.

“Say that again.” Toni pinched her arm. “The math part.”

“The final offer was obviously more.” Emily’s voice sounded a little strained. A ding of an incoming email came over the line. “Greta Clayborne went up to four—”

“Are you serious?” Toni asked, even though this wasn’t the sort of thing Emily would joke about, especially right now when Toni was in desperate financial straits. Feeling strangely small, she asked, “You sent them my book, though, right? They read the right thing.”

“They did. I told you it was good.”

Toni couldn’t speak. There were probably words she ought to say, things she ought to do, but all she could do was stare at Oscar Wilde.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Emily sounded worried. “You know this is good, right? You can take care of your mom. You can look after yourself without taking on extra classes. You don’t need roommates or to move out of your new place. You can get Oscar Wilde treats every day.”

Toni swallowed back the panic. She felt like the world was a roller coaster lately, her emotions everywhere. “Em? Whoever buys it, let them know the main character’s name is Adelaine now. I changed it as a thank-you to my last-minute muse.”

Toni leaned back, the cupboard handle pressing into her upper back.

“I’m going to have questions about Adelaine,” Emily said lightly.

“You know me. I met someone in a bar, and when I got home, I emailed you the book, and here we are.…”

“We? She’s there?” Emily sounded more shocked by that than anything else. A three-quarter-million-dollar deal didn’t send her into fits, but apparently the thought of Toni having a woman in her home did.

Then again, one of those impossible things had actually happened; the other hadn’t.

“No, Em. I’m home with Oscar Wilde.” She paused, biting back the snark she had at the tip of her tongue, and said, “I’m serious about the name, though.”

Foolish or not, she liked the thought of it. Toni might not do relationships, but if she did, Miss Stewart would be the sort of woman she would pursue.

“Okay,” Emily said.

“Em? Did you really mean eight hundred thousand…,” Toni said, clutching the phone, fearing that she misunderstood and needing to hear it once more. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t make math mistakes, sweetie. Fifteen percent of that is mine.” Emily practically trilled the words. “One hundred twenty. That’s enough to ease the pain of living in New York. All thanks to your fabulous book.”

Toni felt like her heart might be beating out of her chest. Too much too fast. She got the degree, landed the job, got slammed by debt, and now… couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of her dream of being an author rescuing her.

“Can they take it back?”

“Not unless you do something remarkably stupid… plagiarism or something.” Emily scoffed at the thought. “I know you wrote this, though.”

“I did.” Toni tossed a pillow back onto the sofa. Oscar Wilde knocked them down almost every day. “What if I can’t write another book? What if—”

“Can we pause to be happy?” Emily sounded gentle.

Toni closed her eyes, gripping another throw pillow and clutching it to her chest. “Right. Yes… this is fine, right? It’s all fine.” Panic rose up.

I’ll screw this up.

“It’s good, Toni. It’s really, really good.” Emily spoke in that soft tone that eased the panic of most wild things.

And for a weird flicker of a moment, Toni wished there were someone in her life to tell. The only two people she could tell were her best friend, who was on the phone, and her cat. All told, hers was a pretty lonely life.