Chapter Text
When Rey’s phone rings for the tenth time during what would be her lunch hour, she’s seriously tempted to turn it off and / or drop it in the fish tank that for some reason her office insists on keeping around, even though nobody ever remembers to feed the fish and they have to replace them every few weeks. But even though giving her phone the sweet release of death that she herself often craves on the busiest days at work is tempting, common sense takes over. She answers it.
This is her first mistake.
She’s practically running to the elevator a minute later, trying to both keep up the phone conversation and eat a croissant. “Hm? Yes. No, I don’t understand, actually. Why is this happening exactly?”
“I just can’t take it anymore,” Finn says from the other end of the line. “I told you how he is. He’s always been bad, just a complete nightmare, but recently it’s been worse than usual. I’m done. Someone else take him.”
“What happened?” Rey asks. The doors of the elevator close behind her and a very slow journey downwards starts, because this building hasn’t been renovated since the 70s. Something new breaks every week; you can’t even access the third floor anymore unless you take the staircase, since the button is broken.
“He threw a plate at me,” says Finn, pauses, and adds, “he missed by miles, though. That’s not the point. He can be your problem now, if you want him so badly.”
And – that is phrasing it simply, because of course Rey prefers her colleagues and clients to behave like decent or, if that’s not possible, at least normal human beings, but.
Okay.
Here are the facts:
Kylo Ren has been with Rogue Publishing for six years, having signed the contract only a month or so before Rey started working there. Since then, he has published a book a year, and every single one has landed on top of all the bestseller lists and stayed there for months. His second book won him his first prize; by the time his fifth book came out last year, he’d won twelve.
That’s the public side of it. On the business side of it all, Ren is not just “not a people’s person”, which would be fair enough. He’s also not merely eccentric, which might even help sales. No, the truth is that he’s, simply put, an asshole.
Tales of badly-gone encounters with Ren are always the number one talk at the watercooler. Finn isn’t the first to throw in the sponge; in fact, Rey is mildly impressed he lasted as long as he did. It’s common knowledge that no editor has lasted longer than a year; Finn’s 10 months were practically the longest anyone has managed.
But.
In spite of all of that, in spite of literally all the bad qualities that make Kylo Ren so awful to work with, there’s also the fact that his books are just that good. Brilliant, really. Rey has wanted to be his editor ever since she read the first page of Ren’s very first novel, and his works have only gotten better over the years. Also, if she can do this right, if she can put Editor For Kylo Ren on her resume, then this will do wonders for her career – or for the career of whoever becomes his next editor.
What Finn is doing here, basically, is offering her first dibs.
And she’s going to take this opportunity and not screw it up if it kills her. Which it might. If Ren’s aim improves.
This is her second mistake.
***
It’s tradition to arrange a first meeting between author and editor before anything gets finalised, sort of like an arranged marriage that gives you one last chance to back out. Rey isn’t worried about this. She knows she’s good at her job. And even if this doesn’t work out, that’s not the end of the world; she has so many other clients that another one would be a burden, really. So no matter what happens here today, the outcome will be good, and she’s not worried.
She isn’t.
She suggested meeting at a coffeeshop, mostly because Finn’s office is right next to hers and she would like to avoid any confrontation if possible. Ren had agreed easily, his email short and to the point.
So now Rey is here, five minutes before the official meeting time, only to find Ren already there. She recognises him instantly; every novel of his has a photo of him in the back. It’s always the same one; a portrait of a young man looking straight into the camera, unsmiling. Now that she sees him in person, it’s clear that a few years have passed since the picture was first taken. He seems to have grown into his face, and he’s filled out more, too.
He hasn’t spotted Rey yet, his attention taken by whatever is on the laptop screen in front of him. There’s a half-empty mug standing on the table; evidently he’s been here a while already.
Figuring that there is no time like the present, Rey foregoes her own drink in favour of taking a seat. Ren doesn’t look up. Rey clears her throat. Ren frowns and hits a single key on his computer. Rey says, “Mr Ren? I’m Rey, I emailed you yesterday.”
Ren makes a noncommittal noise and hits another key. He can’t be typing, so it must be something else. Is he playing a browser game, Rey wonders half-hysterically.
She snaps her fingers, right in front of Ren’s face. “Hey!” she says. “I know you heard me.”
Finally, his eyes meet hers. He stares at her blankly for a second before saying, “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“I heard you.”
Rey takes a deep breath while trying not to seem like she’s taking a deep breath. Finn managed this guy for 10 months; she can do better. She will do better. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I want us to work together, not against each other. I’m told you had some differences of opinion with some of your last editors-“ understatement, “but I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t work around. Now, Finn sent me the notes on what you’ve been working on since the release of Dark Path. He-“
“Who’s Finn?” Ren interrupts.
Taken aback, Rey says, “Your editor? The one who just quit?”
Ren’s face is blank. Maybe this is the secret to his genius. Maybe he suffers from amnesia.
“You threw a plate at him,” Rey says flatly. This, at last, seems to spark some memory; the knit between his eyebrows lessens ever so slightly.
“Right.”
“Right,” Rey repeats after a small pause. “Like I said, he sent over the file. Obviously you haven’t even gotten a first draft yet, so this is really just-“
“Why are you doing this?” Ren says, cutting her off again.
“What?”
“This. Me.”
“Why am I doing you?” Rey says, probably louder than necessary. A few of the other patrons look over briefly, then, in the universal instinct of anyone recognising trouble, all pretend not to have heard.
Two spots of colour have appeared on Ren’s cheeks, his hands are clutching his mug. “Not – like that,” he hisses, like he’s perfectly happy assaulting people with crockery but the mere thought of doing – anything – with her is too much to bear. What a dick. “Why are you taking this job?”
“Technically I’m not taking it until you approve of me,” Rey points out, then winces at her word choice. She should have gotten something to drink after all; it would give her something to focus on. “Not that I would advise you not to greenlight this, because while I don’t know who’s next in line, I can guarantee they aren’t as good as I am.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“Fine,” she says, suddenly fed up with this conversation. “I wanted this job because you’re the best author we got, and because if this goes successfully, this will be a stepping stone for me in the publishing world. I’ve been with Rogue Publishing for six years, I want something else. If you win another prize while on my client list, all doors will be open to me. I could practically apply to Red Five Books itself.”
Something in Ren’s face has closed off at some point during her answer. She can’t put her finger on what changed, only that he now seems even more hostile than before. “We’re done here,” he says. “You can go.”
“Go? What? You’re dismissing me?”
Ren, whose eyes had already travelled back to his screen, looks at her again, seemingly surprised that she’s still here. “Yes,” he says, like it’s obvious. “We’re done.”
His blush has long since gone, but now it’s Rey’s own cheeks that are surely aflame with outrage as she stands up. “You,” she says, only just managing not to shout, “are the biggest prick I’ve ever met, and people were right about you.” He doesn’t reply – of course not, why would he? What was it he said? We’re done. They’re done. Rey’s big chance, gone up in thin air just like that. Shot to death by Kylo Ren, who doesn’t even have the good grace to be apologetic about it.
Screw this. Screw him. She’s done.
She leaves without looking back.
***
Two weeks pass. One of her authors finishes the third draft, and she spends most of her time going over the final changes with him. Soon it’ll be ready for print, and that will be another weight off her back. Perhaps she’ll take a vacation.
(She won’t, hasn’t taken one since she started working here. But it’s nice to daydream about it sometimes, nice to imagine that she’s a person who goes on vacations, who doesn’t practically live at work.)
She meets Finn and Rose for drinks on the second weekend after the disastrous meeting with Ren. Both Finn and Rose express their sympathy by buying her drinks, which means she’s got the hangover from hell the next morning when she checks her emails and - finds an email labelled First Draft.
It’s from Kylo Ren.
Headache firmly in place, she clicks on it, sure that it’s a fluke, or perhaps addressed to the wrong person. There is only the file, no additional message.
She should write back, inform Ren about his error, but – the file is right there, and he’s already sent it, and surely there’s no harm to take a quick look? No one has to know.
Five hours later, her headache has intensified from looking at a screen so long, but she’s also got ten pages worth of notes and comments – and has this almost overwhelming urge to go find Kylo Ren and shake his hand or something, because notes aside, this was amazing. It’s not nearly as polished as any of the published novels – obviously, that’s what first drafts are for –, but all the right parts are there, and she feels like it won’t take much effort to push the raw text into something sharper, better.
If only this was her actual job.
Pushing aside her notebook with a sigh, she replies to the email, just a short explanation of how Ren has made a mistake and confused her address with his editor’s. Normally she’d have forwarded the email to the right person immediately, but she has been so busy these past couple of weeks that she doesn’t even know who got the job. Truthfully, she hasn’t asked, hasn’t wanted to know who beat her to the punch.
A response comes within minutes.
You’re my editor.
Cassian picks up on the first ring, because he always does. “What’s up, Rey?” he asks. Rey supposes that in most companies, calling your colleagues by the first name would already be pretty weird, let alone the boss – but not Cassian. Cassian gives a big speech every quartal about how first names are the basis of trust, how trust is the foundation of the company, how the company is like a family – in which, conveniently, first names are common. Rey has heard this speech many times now. Sometimes she thinks it’s admirable. Sometimes she just wants someone to call her by her surname, just once.
“It’s about Kylo Ren,” she says. “Just out of, you know, general curiosity, could you tell me who’s been picked as his new editor?”
“I know,” Cassian says, sounding stricken, “I’ve been meaning to send you flowers or something as congratulations, but I just didn’t have time. Congratulations, though.”
“Thanks,” Rey says automatically. Then, “What?”
“You must have made quite the impression on him. He sent a message about how you’re the only editor he finds acceptable for his new project. That’s from a guy who once met ten different editors and still threatened to change the publishing house.”
“I don’t understand,” Rey says, because she doesn’t.
“Maybe he just likes you,” Cassian says, and even manages to sound like he means it. “I have to run, but keep me updated, alright? Don’t just send an email. You have to come by my office more often, I’ll make you tea.”
“I don’t like tea.”
“I’ll see you then,” Cassian says happily, and hangs up.
Rey stands motionless in her living room for a few seconds, phone in hand, before doing the only thing she can think of: She returns to her desk, and spends another few hours reading Monster Within once more. She may have no idea what has led to this, or what Ren’s secret agenda is here, but she can bloody well see to it that this will be the most well-edited book in the history of mankind.