I tap.
The message is short. Professional but promising the world. Classic Pace…
Taron,
I know things ended badly, but business is business. I’ve had a major publisher reach out—big five imprint, serious money on the table. They love the manuscript sample you sent before everything went sideways. They’re offering a six-figure advance, plus marketing push, audiobook deal, the works. Only condition: a few targeted changes. Steamier tone in key scenes, tighter pacing on the emotional arc, and a new ending that is more marketable. Nothing you can’t handle, and nothing I can’t work on with you. This could be it—the mainstream breakout you’ve been working toward. But you need to let me handle things this time. I know what I’m doing. You can write, but I’m the man who will get you to where you need to go.
Call me. Or reply. But let’s make this happen.
Pace
I stare at the screen. Read it again. Then a third time.
Six figures.
Big five.
Audiobook.
Marketing.
Everything I’ve dreamed about since school. Since the first rejection letters. Since the indie days of scraping together promo budgets from ramen money.
My fingers tremble. Excitement surges—hot, bright, dizzying. This is huge. Monumental. The kind of break most writers only fantasize about.
But… Pace.
He still wants control. I can tell that all the old issues are still going to be there, nothing has changed as far as that goes. If anything, he seems like he wants more control than ever. And that means artistic control too. But he’s an agent, he should only be handling the business side and not trying to make me something I’m not.
Pace is still the same man who cornered me in his office. Who tried to force me into photoshoots I hated. Who told me my body wasn’t “marketable” enough unless I lost weight. Who threatened my career when I said no.
Ihatehim.
And yet…
This offer isn’t from him. It’s from a publisher. A real one. Pace is just the middleman.
In theory I could take the deal. Make the changes. Keep my vision mostly intact. Get the advance, the bookstore placements, the reviews in big outlets. Prove to everyone—including myself—that I belong.
If I was to reply to Pace, what would I even say?
Yes?
Tell me more?
Send the contract?
My heart pounds. This could change everything.
Everything.
The town square fades around me. The fountain’s trickle, the pigeons, the maple leaves rustling overhead—all of it blurs.
Because if I say yes…
I go back.
Back to the city. Back to agents and deadlines and networking events. Back to the life I ran from.