Red Flag

47. A Waiting Game

With the news of the Mounties' hacking success, we took a break from climbing to relax and celebrate. A while later, Lorne and I sat at my computer to review my publishing contract, and a minute or so into it, I stopped reading and looked up at him. "Just thought. This is what saved me."

"Hunh? What?"

"Meeting with you aboard to review this. If I had stayed at home ..." I paused and shuddered. "Oh, God! They would have found me."

He pulled me into a side hug. "But they didn't, Kate. And they won't. You're safe here."

"Yeah." I blew a deep breath and continued reading, trying to keep up with Lorne's scrolling, but even if I had kept up, I still wouldn't have understood it. When he reached the end of the document, I said, "Such obfuscating bafflegab."

"Contracts need to be unambiguous to prevent misinterpretation, and this one is solid. But I see several avenues out of it for you, the most obvious being to pay the termination fee. Though, from what you had said at Pearl's last week, that won't be necessary."

"Ooh! How so?"

"The clause about their obligation to market your works. You had said there have been no recent book launching or signing events."

"Nor any promotions on social media – those stopped a long time ago."

"And in print media?"

"Nothing I've seen. They used to send me clippings of those and links to online ads."

"How long since the last?"

I shrugged. "Two years. More."

"A simple out, then – if you want that."

"Hunh? If it's so easy, why would I not want out?"

"Stability. Identity. Your history with them." He pointed at the contract on my computer screen. "Besides, they handle all the physical aspects – printing, distribution, accounting and so on."

"Ummm, yeah. Be a lot of hassle for me to take those on. How should we proceed?"

"From strength. You're in the power seat for contract renegotiation and for compensation."

"Renegotiation I see, but compensation?"

"Recompense for their lack of marketing while they relied on your reputation and following. Remember, publishers are in the business to make money, and their bean counters likely advised them to spend no more on you."

"So, some of their savings should be mine?"

"Most of them, Kate. Possibly, all of them."

"Oh! How so?"

"With your market success, you're in a position to write your own contract with them. Short-term and in control of renewals to keep them on their toes. Demand a higher percentage of the sales revenue. A more compatible editor. Placate what else troubles you with them. They're making a killing from you, and they don't want to lose you. They'd be stupid not to turn over the portion of their revenue that is rightfully yours."

"Will you do that for me?"

"Would that I could, but as Crown counsel, I cannot take on a client. However, I can draft a negotiation framework and hand it to a colleague conversant with entertainment and publishing law, and I can personally advise you through the process."

I chuckled. "That's the same as doing it."

Lorne shrugged and grinned. "Ah, but by the letter of the law, it's not."

Together, we compiled a list of points I wanted covered in the new contract. Then, while Lorne assembled these into a draft, I read the first three chapters of Cynthia's manuscript and skimmed the next three without finding what the story is about, so I asked her.

"It's the misadventures of a woman after she's dumped by her longtime fiancé."

"Who is she? What are her goals? What stands in her way? What would failure bring? Why should readers be interested?"

"Hmmm. It's complicated."

"To catch the readers' attention, you need to answer all these questions in one simple sentence – it's usually the large, bold print on the book's back cover."

"Oh!"

I pointed to the Google doc of her manuscript. "Also, it's best to begin the story at or near the inciting incident. Leave the backstory and the long descriptions of the setting until after you've shown the main character's response or reaction to the changed circumstances. Immediacy is essential to hook readers into the story, and we have only a page or two or three to do this; otherwise, they'll move on to another book."

With more questions from me, Cynthia identified the inciting incident, and we found a way to move it to the opening paragraphs. Then after discussing methods of showing rather than telling the setting and the backstory, we all took a break and played on the climbing wall.

Later, refreshed and in the kitchen, we flipped coins to see who would be the evening's executive chef, who the sous and who would sit out.

Lorne lost, and he sat at the island with his computer while Cynthia and I began. Not long into our prepping, he received an email ping, and he read for a while before he spoke, "From Driscoll. They want the posts on our blogs to continue – but with the content created by their team. They've now added drafts on our accounts, and if we approve, he wants us to edit them to match our own unique styles and voices without changing the content or context."

I looked up from preparing the three chicken breasts. "Oh, should we delay dinner and do that now?"

Lorne chuckled. "Ever the eager beaver, Kate. But, no rush. He wants them personalised and ready for the task force to post at appropriate times tomorrow and ongoing."

Cynthia giggled. "I love this. They're playing chess with a blindfolded foe."

"And making his moves for him, Cynth." I pointed to the chanterelles, morels and pleurotes on her chopping block. "You could begin sautéing the mushrooms and dice the shallots and garlic to have them ready."

Then a bit later, with the breasts butterflied and seasoned, I asked, "What else did Driscoll say?"

"Suprême is opening Wednesday evening, but Rinaldi won't attend; he'll be at an opening in Calgary. He lost track of Cynthia's car and pen, and he tasked Pulombo with finding longer-life batteries. The Mounties got three major contacts through Rinaldi's vitriolic berating of those responsible for flubbing the arson of Cynthia's office." Lorne paused and chuckled. "The task force has already learned so much, and it's only been a few hours."

"Oh, wow! So, it should soon be safe again for us out there."

"No." Lorne looked at me, pursing his lips and shaking his head. "No, they'll likely not move in on anyone until they've identified and located every last crumb. Then they'll do a coordinated sweep."

"So, we stay cooped up here, waiting."

"You could look at it that way, Kate, but luxuriating is more apt than cooped up and waiting." He shrugged. "We're three wannabe executive chefs with a pipeline from a gourmet supermarket, and we've a superbly-stocked wine cellar. For exercise and challenge, we have a great climbing instructor and wall, and for creative outlet, near-endless writing and editing projects. And to top it off, for entertainment, we've a front-row seat watching Rinaldi's obliviousness to his pending demise."