***
From: gracyhemmy
To: marcel.wright
Object: Corrections
Mr Wright,
I have changed various scenes throughout the book to make them more relatable and authentic. I have added descriptions like you wanted.
You will find bookmarks on the pages that require your attention.
Sincere salutations,
Miss Hemingway.
Tuesday, 11:07
***
From: marcel.wright
To: gracyhemmy
Object: Re: Corrections
Grace,
I have reviewed your work, and I don't understand how far you have pushed the protagonist's reactions. Why do they have to be so extreme?
Let me know so I can understand your point of view.
Have a great time with your family.
Marcel
Tuesday, 13:56
***
From: gracyhemmy
To: marcel.wright
Object: Re: Re: Corrections
Mr Wright,
Their reactions may be extreme, but they are fucking accurate. You need to get your head out of your fucking arse and look around you. You react that way with everyone, but no one truly cares, but I do, and it sets me off. I respond to that because I care. Shame on me. I fucking cared. So, yeah, they have to be extreme.
Please refer to me formally as you lost all privilege when you shouted at me that you didn't know me.
I am not in the mood to put a fake polite concluding statement,
Miss Hemingway
Tuesday, 17:23
***
From: marcel.wright
To: gracyhemmy
Object: Re: Re: Re: Corrections
Miss Hemingway,
You really know your way to annoy me. May I remind you that these characters are based on fiction? In no way we are alike.
It's no secret for you that I don't care. It was established between us pretty early on. I'm sorry if you expected something else from me.
I am against the idea of changing the characters. They were perfect before.
Don't be fake, be you.
Marcel
Tuesday, 20:54
***
From: gracyhemmy
To: marcel.wright
Object: Re: Re: Re: Re: Corrections
The characters are not about being fucking perfect! They are about being genuine. And there you go say we are not the characters, you stated yourself Darcy was me, and I fooled myself to think you could be like Harry. Guess what?! I was fucking wrong. I liked who you were without changing a single hair on your head, and you blew that up by insulting me. I don't care what has traumatised you to be this scared in your life, but clearly, you let it get to your head, and it's suddenly OK to treat others like shit. I am not shit. You should never have treated me like that.
We are more like the characters than you would like to think. I created Harry as my fantasy. Somehow you started behaving like him. I didn't try to change you in any way. But it's out of my control if you let yourself behave differently. I did not ask you to fuck me the way you did. I did not ask you to make me breakfast the morning Steeve showed up. I did not ask you to take me with you to your place. The only thing I asked from you was to treat me with respect, and you fucking failed.
I will stay with my family longer than anticipated. You can celebrate your doctorate on your own because it's not like you even want to be with anything else than your own company.
Wednesday, 14:33
***
From: marcel.wright
To: gracyhemmy
Object: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Corrections
For fuck's sake, Grace! What is wrong with you?!
What can't you understand?! I am not treating you like shit. You are my writer, and I am giving you all my attention. I told you things. I have been more open with you than with anyone. Stop making this harder for me than it needs to be.
Why can't you just be professional?!
I am not treating you like shit. This is not about you.
Wednesday, 15:16
***
From: gracyhemmy
To: marcel.wright
Object: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Corrections
"This is not about you." Then who the fuck is it about?!
I am not making any of this hard, Marcel. You are making things hard for yourself. You don't care about me. All you ever wanted was to be an editor, and I made you one. Now that you have what you wanted out of me, you throw me out like a bag of garbage.
I feel like you are just giving me half of you. The other is always unpredictable and jumping at my throat. What did I ever do to you!?
Stop pretending you don't need anyone, Marcel! You do. It might not be me, but you are not alone if you let yourself trust.
Here I am, always giving you all I can, but it's never enough for you. I have been standing naked in so many ways in front of you, and you messed it all up. I always have to wait until you are done losing your mind to pick up the pieces. I won't this time. You fucking said to me that you didn't know me and that 'in another life' you will see me around. What was that shit about!? I am not a doll you can emotionally abuse when you want. I care, Marcel. And I got fucking hurt! That won't happen again. You need to swallow your pride and make up your fucking mind.
Don't talk to me unless it's urgent professional matters.
Wednesday, 19:49
***
Me: I am driving down to London tomorrow. I have business to take care of. Do you want to come to Manchester with me? The SOS have a show the day after tomorrow. We could all hang out. Are you in?
Sophie: Yes! I am packing my things as soon as I get home.
Me: I am heading to the office, actually. I will pick you up when you are done.
Sophie: Great! Come by my desk when you get there.
***
Me: What would you say if I invited you to a show with my friends, my brothers, and me?
Ronnie: I am constantly pleased when meeting new people, but you got me convinced with your brothers.
Me: You'll get to meet Ash. ;)
Ronnie: The hot guy you slept with in London?!?!?
Me: In the flesh.
Ronnie: Yes!!!!!!!!!! Count me in!
Me: I'll stop by Nando's when I get back in Manny. Kisses, my friend.
Ronnie: I love you!!!
***
I get to London in William's car. Marcel and I haven't talked for a week, and I really want to get our professional relationship straight. I want to have that argument face to face to move forward with my story. I have read our emails over and over again. I am mad, but he is right. I need to be more professional about this. I am so close to handing in my final draft, getting my other check, and officially publishing the story into a book. After that, it's marketing, and I won't have to deal with Marcel anymore.
I park nearby and walk my way on Strand to get to the glass doors of this modern office in such an old part of the City. I see Sophie's face brighten up as I get to her desk.
"Welcome to Wright Books, Miss. You are making my day!" She smiles at me as she greets me.
"I hope you were free tomorrow and the day after that because you'll see your man again." I wink at her as I lean on her desk.
"I am, but I would have called in sick if I wasn't. I am so excited."
"Well, none of them know. So it'll be a surprise. They'll be so happy." I warn her not to say anything.
"So? What did you come here to do?" She suddenly frowns at me, and I lose all trace of fun inside of me.
"I need to go see him. This just got way out of hands too quickly."
"Good luck." She tells me as I lazily, and without an ounce of motivation, head to the lift.
I get to the last floor and freeze in front of the secretary welcoming me like before. Is Marcel in his office or his mum's?
I head to his office at a determined pace, sure that if he is there, he is alone. I am proven very wrong. He isn't there, but the office isn't empty. A woman is staring back at me, being weirdly at ease behind Marcel's desk, in his chair.
"Who are you?" I let you with the arrogance I had prepared for Marcel.
"I am Kate. And you are?" She narrows her eyes at me, leaning her elbows on the desk, her beautiful blond hair falling on her shoulders.
"Grace." I only respond as she scrutinises me carefully, a naughty smirk on her lips.
"Well, this is interesting." She seductively murmurs, and I get very uncomfortable with that woman's attitude.
She is not old, younger than Edith. She seems like a very sensual woman that reminds me of a snake. I can't seem to trust her that easily, and that's something I am not used to doing. I don't usually treat people that way. Maybe it's the effect of what Marcel did to me.
She's annoyingly beautiful. Her long blond hair curls effortlessly on her shoulders. She breathes of sensuality and confidence. What do I look like? I am a mess, seeking an explanation, trying to confront Marcel. It seems the only way to get him to tell me what bothers him, and I hate that. I hate that we fight so much. I hate that it seems to be our only way to communicate how we truly feel. And I hate that I am losing every sense of confidence in myself because of her. Who is she to him? Why do I let her manipulate me that way?
I decide to head straight to the point of my visit to then leave her without giving her any more of my attention. I am here to clear everything with Mace for professional purposes and then get the fuck away from here.
"Is Marcel around?" I ask her, maybe not hiding my annoyance well enough, but she doesn't flinch. She seems to be out for blood, and I really don't know why.
"I thought you two weren't talking." She frowns as if she was defying me, clearly trying to get under my skin... and it is working.
I don't know if it's her tone, the deep stare of judgment or my surprise of her knowledge on Mace and I's relationship that stuns me the most. It's just like a punch to my gut.
"How would you know?"
"Marcel tells me everything." She says, and it seems to suck all the air inside of my lungs. Who the fuck is she? "You are far from what I had pictured. I thought you would have been blonde."
What is happening?!
"I was. Marcel preferred me natural." I retort as quickly, trying to stay strong, but her stare shatters all that is left of confidence in my body. She wears that smirk of pure evil pride, and I have been too emotionally vulnerable these last few days to be indifferent to her judgment.
"That's when you lost him, honey. You are not his type."
"What?" I almost choke with my breath.
"I thought you would have been sexier. You are not like he described you." She keeps on eyeing me, still judging, still wrecking all esteem of myself. I can't seem to be able to think straight for a few seconds. I return her gaze with pure despise.
"Who are you?"
"I already answered that, honey. Not that bright either, I see." She fires back at me. She smirks in a devilish way that hurts me and disgusts me.
I turn around to hide the tears tickling my eyes and leave the office. I wait until the door is closed to let the tears fall from my eyes. Why was she so mean to me? What did I ever do to her? Why would Marcel tell anything to her about me? Is he that mean?
I walk with my head down to the lift, and the doors open as I head in, but I walk right into a man. I wipe my tears and don't look at him. I don't say anything and get in the elevator. The man follows me right when the door closes.
"Grace?" I hear Marcel's voice, and I can't believe I am unlucky that way. "Why are you crying?"
I look up to all the hate in the world. I thought so highly of him, and he lost that to drop incredibly low in my esteem, but maybe not as low as I see myself now.
"There's a woman in your office. It seems like you told her all about me."
"A woman? Who?" He seems concerned. It's almost sad. I genuinely don't give a single fuck.
"I was angry at you, Marcel, but now I am just very hurt. I tried to make it work, I really did. But this just got more personal than it has ever been. I wanted to fix things to have a decent professional relationship with you, but Kate ruined all my esteem. I can't look at myself when I am with you now. I will ask your mum to take me in for what is left of the contract. I can't do this anymore."
"What are you talking about?" He stops me and sweetly says. It messes up with my head again. He bends his knees to be at my height, and he looks into my eyes, which I refuse him. I can't look at him. I can't bear being with him. "Don't give up on me, Grace."
"Like you gave up on me?"
"I don't want to lose you."
"You should have thought of that before."
"Let me at least publish your story. We are almost done, and I know it like the back of my hand."
"No. I am done, Marcel. All of these emotional roller coasters, I can't deal with them anymore."
"Please, Grace. I am begging you. You are the only one who sees something in me."
It tears everything inside of me to hear him say that and how hurting I know this will get me. I am already in pieces. How can I still trust him even in the slightest bit?
"We are editing my story together, and then we are done. I don't want to see you again." I look him dead in the eyes behind my curtain of tears blinding me when the lift dings at my floor.
"If that's what you want..." He says softly, and if he was romantic and pathetic, I would say he almost feels sorry, but he just shows his cold and usual face.
I walk out of the lift and join Sophie at her desk, ready to go already.
"I am ready to go see my boyfriend now." She wraps her arm around my shoulders as she looks at Marcel before the elevator goes back up again.