Emergency Ex (14 page)

Invasion of Love Slaves from Planet X.
Ridiculous name. Ridiculous concept. K.C. Corrigan, the author—not at all ridiculous. Someone he wanted to know better, despite a rocky start. When K.C. had been his student several years back, they’d clunked heads from day one. She couldn’t resist infusing her science fiction with romance and comedy. Too bad. Talented writer with lots of potential, but he’d given her work a failing grade. He’d warned her, but she refused to listen. She insisted on mucking up a good story with inappropriate “alien” concepts. And a stupid title.

Invasion of Love Slaves from Planet X.
He poured his brew—too strong, black—just the way he liked it and grimaced as he took a fortifying swallow. Just what he needed after commuting in rush hour traffic from day job number one—selling electronics—to day job number two—teaching. Even with two jobs, he barely managed to stay afloat in pricey San Francisco. It could be years until he could live off his own writing. With romance books flooding the marketplace, success continued to elude him.

Invasion of Love Slaves from Planet X
. With caffeine coursing through his veins, he’d find out why K. C.’s title dominated the board. He read the notice three times before the words began to make sense. The science fiction romantic comedy by K.C. Corrigan had just topped all the major best-seller lists at the same time. How fitting for this news to show up in a place where her writing flopped.

Invasion of Love Slaves from Planet X. Crap. I don’t believe it.
Todd couldn’t tear his eyes away. K.C. Corrigan. The first time one of his students hit the list—hit all of them at once—and it had to be K.C., his most complicated challenge in five years’ teaching. He stood fixated on the board in much the same way as rubber-neckers view roadside carnage.

“
Invasion of Love Slaves from Planet X.
K.C. Corrigan. Hitting the big time. She was one of your students, right, Marek?” Roger Griswold, one of the resident agents to whom instructors referred promising manuscripts, came up behind Todd and growled.

“Yeah,” Todd grunted as he reconstructed the memory of her in his class. Two years before. Enthusiastic type, easy on the eyes. Very easy on the eyes. Actually hot, something he preferred not to notice about students. Usually wasn’t a problem because his classes tended to attract geeky guys—not that he believed in stereotypes. There were lots of talented, successful female science fiction writers. Usually they weren’t among his students.

K.C. stood out for many reasons. Good basic writing ability, good understanding of the genre but she saturated her work with too much romance and comedy. Todd had considered himself justified when he didn’t pass her manuscript along to Griswold, the agent who handled science fiction and futuristic. Being denied access to the agent was the equivalent of a failing grade in this program.

“Don’t recall seeing her work,” Griswold barked. His pale eyes glittered with menace. “I hope I didn’t blow it and reject her.”

“You didn’t get the chance. I didn’t refer her,” Todd confirmed.

The agent recoiled as if splattered with boiling oil. “You failed to refer an author who made the best-seller lists within two years?”

Todd shrugged with mock nonchalance. “You can say that.”

Griswold narrowed his eyes to laser-intensity and muttered several expletives that set Todd’s teeth on edge. “Not acceptable, Marek. How you going to fix what you broke?”

Todd swiped at the beginning of a headache. “What do you mean? What I broke?” His stomach clenched from the bitterness of the coffee and Griswold’s escalating anger.

“I’ll spell it out.” He raised pudgy fingers to illustrate his point. “
Invasion of Love Slaves from Planet X
. You had it in your hands. You were supposed to pass it to me so I’d have a shot at representing it.” He continued to enumerate while pointing at Todd. “A. Friggin’. Best.
Seller
. Considering how much schlock you foist off on me, the least I deserve from is a chance at getting a top client.”

Talk about having a screw loose.
Todd peered at him, then looked at his watch. He did not want to be late to his class. “You’ve been around, Griswold. No guarantees in this job. No one knows what’s going to be a top seller.”

“That’s for damn sure. But when you have a winner, it’s worth a shot. Even if you thought it was a little weak, you should have let me decide.”

“I used my best judgment as always. Griswold, I’ve got to go.”

“Oh, no. Not until I’ve said my piece. You owe me.” Griswold crowded Todd’s space. “Contact her and put me in touch,” he snarled, unleashing a small stream of spit. “The way things are going these days… Maybe she doesn’t have representation yet.”

Todd managed to avoid the unwanted shower. “What?” It took him a moment to make sense of the strange demand. “First of all, you want to contact her, go ahead. That’s not my responsibility.”

Griswold folded his arms in front of his sunken chest. “You worked with her, so you should have an in.”

“I gave her work a failing grade. We argued a lot in class. I don’t think she’d be eager to renew our acquaintance.” Todd chose to ignore a twinge of regret. Lost opportunity there. How do you date a person whose writing you gave a failing grade?

About Mardi Ballou

By day she’s a mild-mannered language teacher. But after hours, Mardi Ballou’s wild writer persona erupts and entraps her in bondage…to her computer. Release comes only once she achieves her word count goal, at which point the maniacal chocolate monster will give her one sublime piece. And then she can spend time with her hero husband Lee, who gives great massages at strategic times. So Mardi writes what she knows—romance—hot and mainstream. Check out all of Mardi’s books, and more, at
http://MardiBallou.com
.