The Family McStar wasn't done with me. Not by a longshot.
A few days after my pseudo-deposition with Literary McAgent and his lawyer, Spouse McStar rang me up. (You'd think by that point, I'd have learned not to pick up the phone when the caller I.D. said Private Number.) I couldn't even get out my "Hello" when Spouse started in:
"How dare you tell lies about me! How dare you tell that pissant agent of yours that I tried to steal you! I would never do such a thing!"
I said, "Um, well, you did do such a thing."
He ignored me. "I should sue you!"
There wasn't anything to sue me about, and if it went to court, I'd have won a trial -- more likely, the case would've been either settled or thrown out before it got to that point, so whatever -- but if the McStars got litigious, I would've had to pay a lawyer, no matter how absurd their claims were. So I decided to try and calm him down.
But before I could start up with the placating, Spouse hung up on me. Naturally, I called Literary McAgent. After I gave her the 4-1-1-, I said, "I'm out. Tell Manager McBlabbermouth to tell his client and his clients family to never contact me again. If they keep harassing me, I'll sue." I wouldn't sue, of course, but if the threat of legal action was good enough for everybody else, it was good enough for me.
Unfortunately, Literary McAgent was a tenacious little bugger who refused to let things go. "Listen, babe," she said, "We're gonna make this project happen, and it'll be awesome, and it'll sell a zillion copies, and Child likes you, so it'll all be cool."
I said, "I'm out."
"You're in. I'm keeping you in. I insist."
After a few minutes of back and forth, I was exhausted, so in order to put a kibosh to the conversation, I said, "You know what, Literary? The chances of this thing happening are, like, zero percent, so you go ahead and call me when it's time, okay?"
"That's great to hear, babe. Just great."
A couple hours later, I get a call from, of all people, Editor McPublisher. This was bizarre, because A) the editor/ghostwriter relationship is generally rooted entirely in the creative, and being that I hadn't turned in a single word, there were no creative issues to discuss; and B) I'd spoken to Editor for a grand total of six minutes.
After some pleasantries -- at least somebody was polite during this mess -- she said, "Can we fix this? Can we get this book written?"
Editor was a nice girl, so I decided to be straight-up with her. "Listen, I don't know if Child has the ability to convey any useful information in a timely manner. I don't think I'll be able to squeeze a coherent book out of her in two years, let alone two months."
She said, "We don't have to crash it. I was hoping to get it out for fourth quarter, but if it can't happen, it can't happen, you know? Let's just get the thing in the can and go from there. You're a pro. You and Child can kiss and make up. It'll be fine."
I was a pro, and as a pro, it was important for me to maintain a positive relationship with Editor, as well as Big House Books, so I took the high road. "I'm game. I'll do it for you. But I don't think Child will even get on the phone with me."
"She will," Editor said. "Trust me, she will."
And she did.
Next: The denouement.
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