book? A friggin’ book?
Was this girl that deluded?
I glanced out the window at the outskirts of Terre Haute, a city which I could quite frankly say that I had grown attached to over the past few days. As I gazed at the green trees at the edge of the landing field my thoughts turned to Samantha and her idea for a book.
A book would definitely qualify as a breach of my contract. A breach of my contract would spell death for me within the publishing world. And I knew that death in the publishing field would be the death of me.
Besides, I reasoned, without the publicity from the magazine article what would ever happen? The Terre Haute music scene would never take off. And who would ever want to publish a book about a nowhere music scene happening in an Indiana town which no one had ever heard of? And why would anyone waste his time writing one? Not me, I can tell you that. I’m going back to New York.
God, I need a cigarette.
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