Free Jasmine by Kathi S. Barton Page B

another living soul.” He
leaned forward on his desk as she continued. “I’ve got a secret. It’s not bad.
It’s just…I don’t want anyone to know. Can you do that for me?”
    “Yes. You can trust me. Whatever
it is, I can help you with it. Or we can work to fix whatever it is you’ve
done. And for the record, it’s not always as bad as you think it is.”
    She laughed. “This is why I didn’t
think this was such a good idea. I’m not in trouble. And I’ve not done anything
wrong, Drew. I need a lawyer. A good one. Things have taken off in a direction
that I now need…I need you.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her
portfolio. Then the contract. “I got this from my publisher the other day. I’ll
let you read it and then we’ll talk.”
    He sat back in his chair and
opened it. She knew the moment he got to the part where it named her as Jasmine
Blackwell ~ Author . She watched as he sat up again and started reading it
seriously. Jazzie got up, walked to his small refrigerator, pulled out two
bottles of water, and put one at his elbow before she opened hers and began
walking around the room.
    She’d only been in here once
before, when her sister Alyssa had asked her about the desk that was no longer
in here. She hadn’t liked it and neither had Jazzie. Alyssa had told her the
desk was too stodgie and she just couldn’t imagine anyone feeling very
comfortable sitting on either side of it. She’d had it taken away when Jazzie
had agreed.
    The desk that Drew used now was
large and oak. It was solid like the man and warm and comforting like Alyssa
had wanted everyone to feel. The rest of the room conveyed the same feelings. Like
you could trust the man and the business that was dealt here, a feeling that
was important no matter what side of the desk one happened to be on.
    The pictures around the room were
interspersed with awards. Drew had been a graduate of Harvard Law and had been
in the top one percent of his class. There were accolades of his good works
too. There were awards for his humanitarian works as well as his help with the
homeless shelters that he had helped the Howard Foundation set up. She loved
the pictures of him with her family and with his, the ones of his uncle Thomas
and of her. She smiled when she saw them all together at Lilliane’s wedding
just a few months ago.
    “Jazzie, how long have you been a
famous author?” She came and sat back down at his question. “I’m assuming a while
since this mentions a series of books that I know my wife, your sister, has
read.”
    “A while. About ten years, I
guess. And famous? I don’t know about all that, but I do well.” She nodded to
the contract. “I fired my lawyer this morning. It wasn’t pretty. He can’t tell
anyone about this, can he?”
    “No, not legally he can’t. But he
may let things slip and then it’ll be everywhere. Why?” He opened her portfolio
and looked at each cover and the cover wraps she’d had printed.
    “I don’t know. He was incompetent
and he seemed to think I worked for him and not the other way around. Then
there was the movie deal. He said that I could do better than what they’re
offering me.’
    “You can. You will. But that’s not
what I’m talking about and you know it. Why haven’t you told your family? You
aren’t ashamed of what you write, are you? Quinn says they have the greatest
sex scenes in them she’s ever read.” He flushed before continuing. “I’m sure
you’re well aware of that.”
    “Actually, no. When I write a
story it’s like I’m not really doing it.” He looked at her oddly. “I mean, it’s
me writing it, but I simply let it flow over me like a blanket. And once I’m
finished with a story I can’t recall much more than the characters’ names.”
    He closed the booklet and leaned
back in his chair before he spoke. “You do know that you are famous, don’t you?
I looked you up once. Not you, but Miss Blackwell. She…you are world known not
only