Second Chances [On Hold]

Chapter 2

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“Don’t you dare hang up on me again.” The venom in my voice was unforgettable. “Now, tell me, Christian, why did you give him my damn number!?” I bellowed, menacingly. “You of all people should know how much I loathe that boneheaded imbecile!” 

        When he didn’t answer, I rolled my eyes. “I know you’re there. Stop pretending the line went dead,” I said, trying to sound a bit more pleasant. 

        “I’m sorry!” he wailed, sounding frantic. “He-he called this morning saying if I didn’t give him your number he was going to destory me! You know how powerful his family is! I couldn’t risk it Sky! Please don’t be mad! I love you!” he said all in one breath, adding the ‘I love you’ at the end, to remind me of our friendship, and how much I really did love him. Well, most of the time, when he’s not messing up.

         “You could’ve just told him I’ll get back to him! Anything than giving my number away.”

         “I know, I know,” he repeated sounding a bit more calm now that I wasn’t yelling through the roof. “But he insisted he called you. I’m not sure why but he really wants you to be his ghostwriter.”

         “Yeah I know.” I blew a puff of air. “I read my email this morning. How the hell did my name even get mentioned? I’m not a ghostwriter. I’m an author that writes only for herself not for others!”

         I could picture him wincing at the sound of my tone going high pitch at the end. I bit my lips, guilty, as I waited for his reply.

         “Apparently he’s a big fan of yours, and yesterday evening he contacted our firm, saying he wanted S.P. James to ghostwrite for his new upcoming story.”

         “New story?” I laughed. Him? Are you fucking kidding me? Back when we were younger, every time I even tried to get him to read, he would refuse saying, how books were boring and that he rather eat dirt. There’s no way he would actually come up with a plot, let alone a damn story. “You have got to be kidding me.”

         “I’m afraid not, Sky,” Christian answered me, even though I was practically talking to myself. “He already paid the advance, and he wants you to start as soon as possible.”

        My eyes cut into slits. “How much?” 

         “100,000 dollars.”

         I nearly choked on my own saliva, gasping for air when I couldn’t breathe. “Skylar, breathe babe, breathe! Don’t die on me!” 

         “Quit being overly dramatic.” I laughed, rolling my eyes. “I’m fine. Now.” I relaxed, rubbing my face. “Repeat that.”

         “Ah, 100,000 dollars?” He sounded unsure, probably afraid I would pass out on him or something. 

         “Yeah that’s it,” I said calmly before my eyes popped out of its sockets at the news. “Are you freaking kidding me? That’s what ghostwriter’s gets paid for the whole project! And that’s on the high end of things!”

         “I know!” Christian gushed, excitedly. “He’s paying you another 300,000 dollars though.”

         “Wait—what!?” 

         “Honey, he’s paying triple for you, remember?” he asked, probably thinking I’d already forgotten what I’d read in the email earlier this morning.