She never writes anything. She just puts her face on the cover in a skimpy bra and gets author credits.
I don't know if I'm more upset that he was fucking another woman or he was fucking her.
"Alyssa and I have been talking for a while, babe," Grady says, trying to explain it to me. "I'm sorry."
"No, Grady," I tell him coldly. "I'm the one that's sorry."
And then, the fateful words. "Consider this visit my termination visit for any arrangements with Bad Boy Publishing."
I turn around. Really, that's all I really need to do here. Very simple. Very civilized way of saying fuck off.
"Abby, you can't fucking leave," Grady says, his voice reaching ever higher octaves.
I turn around to look at him.
Don't get me mad, Grady. Please don't go there.
"We had a deal," he tells me. I look at him to see if he's really being serious.
He's not joking.
"You can't back out now," he says to me.
"Really? I can't back out of an arrangement that specifically says I can back out at any time?" I ask him, cocking my eyebrows.
"If you back out now, then it'll look very bad for my career, babe," he tells me, completely serious.
I swear to God, Grady has made thinking only about himself an art form.
I reach down and grab his pants and his boxers and bunch them up. I take Alyssa's short skirt. I bunch all of it together into a tight little ball.
"I can't leave?" I ask him, walking toward him.
"Not if you want to keep your end of the bargain," he says to me, sagely.
I smile and go toward his window that's cracked open slightly. The cold New York City air is coming in. Helps the building save on air conditioning.
Then without a second glance I stick my hand out the window.
Alyssa gasps because this is the hand that has her skirt, her thong, Grady's pants, and his boxers.
And I let them go.
They flutter in the wind, dropping down toward the ground.
"That's what I think of my fucking end of the bargain," I tell him. "And it looks like you have a bigger problem at work than worrying about losing me as a client."
And that's it.
My exit. I head to the door.
"You're going to regret this, Abby," Grady says to me.
"Fuck off and die, asshole," I say without turning back. "You're the one that'll regret it if you come after me."
Don't look at me like that babe.
I may be an angel most days.