“Like you didn’t know,” Andy said, his words cracking off like rounds from a pistol. Howard looked over at Andy with unveiled disgust but only sneered, his culvert-like nostrils flaring.
“As I was saying, this is your last book with us, and before we renew your contract, we’ll have to go through the necessary—”
“Oh, enough of this shit!” Andy said as he stood with sufficient force to knock over his chair. “Do you know who this man is? He’s probably your fucking bread and butter, Cole. His last three novels have outsold anything else on your roster. People line up for blocks to see him when he does a signing. His advances are in the six digits, and you’re sitting here actually threatening him with not re-signing a contract for missing a publication date?” Andy leaned over the table, and Lance watched the redness in his palms become white with the pressure he exerted. “We’ll go somewhere else, you fucking moronic cartoon! Shit, he’ll publish his next work himself! How’s that for negotiating?”
“What do you know about anything, you weird little—”
“I’ve represented two platinum recording artists, three bestselling novelists not including the one in this room, and an actor that’s received more Oscar nominations than anyone I can think of, so I know my way around the entertainment industry, Mr. Cole, and you do not!” Andy turned from the table and began to walk to the door. Lance stood and finally met eyes with Howard, who was clenching his Chiclet-like teeth within the snarl of his parted lips.
“Basically, what Andy was saying was, you’ll get my book when I’m done with it, not a second sooner or later. If that’s unacceptable, take me to court and I’ll show up with bells on.”
Without another word, Lance walked around the large table and out the door, which Andy held open for him. When it finally clicked shut behind them and their footsteps were the only sound in the hallway, Lance turned his head to look at his friend. Andy’s face was still contorted in what Lance imagined were thoughts of what he had wanted to say but hadn’t. Andy mouthed something angrily incomprehensible, and Lance couldn’t stand it any longer. His laughter sprung out of him and echoed loudly off the walls. Andy turned his attention to Lance, and the look of utter frustration was so complete and profound that another gale of mirth blustered in Lance’s stomach and he nearly doubled over with it.
“What?” Andy said, the irritation rising in his voice.
“You, you …” Lance gasped as he staggered with laughter. “You fucking moronic cartoon!” Another fit squeezed Lance’s midsection until he had to lean on the wall near the elevator. Andy stood to the far side of the double doors, frowning at Lance, his hands deep in the pockets of his expensive suit pants. As the elevator doors dinged open and announced the arrival of the car, Andy finally spoke.
“You’re a fucking loon, you know that?”
The car ride home was quiet once Lance’s laughing fit had finally passed. A quarter turn had been taken off the vice that pressed on the sides of his head. He could feel the pressure there each time his thoughts returned to the unfinished novel, like a tongue probing at a hole where a tooth used to be. At least telling Cole off had felt good. The laughter afterward had been even better. As the car glided around a long bend in the highway, keeping time with the other vehicles around it, Lance turned to Andy.
“Thank you again.”
“For what?”
“For standing up for me. You know you didn’t have to literally stand up.” Lance smiled, hoping to crack his friend’s oppressive mood. Andy merely looked sidelong at him before returning his eyes to the road.