Page 88 of Love Under the Microscope
Nigel snickers. “Don’t be so naive, Zelda.”
I feel the color drain from my face. “What does that mean?”
“I think you know.”
I don’t, but that doesn’t stop my stomach from churning like poison is in my gut. “Whatever, Nigel. The only thing I care about is that I now have the proof you didn’t create Orchid.”
“Those pages don’t prove anything. Neither does the fact you left out some of the formula.”
He knows? The room spins. That means he’s further along in the development process than I thought, or…someone told him.
Wait. Why am I trusting anything Nigel says?
He’s a lying snake. Yet…what if he’s telling the truth for once?
“Be ready for the lawsuit that’s going to drop on Zentello’s doormat,” Nigel continues, dragging my attention back to him.
“No lawyer will take you seriously without proof of creation. I have that proof. We’re almost ready to launch, so do your worst, you absolutely vile, puerile man.”
“Not Orchid,” he snaps. “The lies you told the papers about me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t act all innocent with me. You know, and you can tell Jack fucking Parker that our deal is off.”
My hands shake, and I grip my phone tighter, so I don’t drop it. “What deal? What are you talking about?”
“I’m not playing this game with you.” Nigel sounds angrier than when he first called me. “Just be ready for the fight of your life. I’m taking you, Zentello, and Nate Lowe down.”
He ends the call, and I’m left with dead air in my ear, wondering if I again trusted the wrong man.
Jack
To say my day has been shit is an understatement. The morning, while a little crazy, had been fun and fulfilling, given we found Zelda’s pages. The afternoon, not so much. All I’ve done for the past two hours is beg and plead with Drew to withdraw the story he published under my name.
My real name even, not one of my literary-based pseudonyms.
My fucking editor wrote an article full of exaggeration and innuendo and then attached my name to it. I wish I knew a cheap lawyer because I want to sue his ass.
“This is crap.” I toss a printout of the article onto his desk. “I didn’t give you half this stuff and don’t know if any of it is true. Most of what you wrote you didn’t get from me either, so what the hell are you up to?”
Drew smirks. “I’m selling magazines, Jack. That’s what I’m doing. It’s what you should be doing too.”
I shake my head. “We’ve crossed a few lines, but you’ve jumped clear over this one. What do they call that? Jumping the shark? We don’t publish these kinds of stories. If we did, then you would’ve added a photograph of Zelda wearing a bikini or Nate drunk in some bar. It’s pure sensationalism.”
“I did what I had to do, since you’ve given me nothing.” He steeples his fingers in front of him as he lounges in his office chair. “You may not want to keep your job, but I do.”
“You’re a prick.” I storm out of the room and slam his office door behind me as I leave.
When I get home, I call my buddy who runs the printing plant and ask for a huge favor, but he’s fully aware Drew will know who’s responsible if the magazine doesn’t print, so he says no and hangs up on me. I don’t blame him. The guy has a wife and two kids.
That means I have one more call to make. The last call I want to make.
“What do you want now, Parker?” Drew asks as soon as he answers. He sounds more adamant than earlier.
“Please reconsider the article.” I use my most patient voice and try to keep my true emotions out. “Or at least remove my name from the byline.”
“You wanted your real name on a byline. You never stopped asking me for that.”
