Taming the Author

3: Don't be the Big Bad Wolf

For being the third to read and comment on this story, I dedicate this chapter to @Martianfairy!!!

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I didn't know if she flew or waved a magical staff, but when I got out of Rupert's-my- office, Loramina a. k. a. Claus was nowhere in sight; and every editor sitting outside my office was staring at me like I just committed a murder.

Perhaps I did. Perhaps in the process of insulting one of the biggest authors helping my company pay my salary, I killed my livelihood.

I winced and walked quickly back to my office; my head bowed as I inwardly cursed myself.

This was unthinkable! She couldn't expect me to believe her claim so easily. I mean... Lorewind's writing voice, his style, his plots, his antics... Imagining him as a cute irresistible bossy woman was unthinkable!

My eyes strayed to the blue book innocently...mockingly staring back at me from the table. Yes, there was evidence. There was hardcore, foolproof, notarized evidence and I... I still..

I felt the pompous macho pride drain away from my veins. I shakily walked to the table and rested my hands on its surface to support my weight on my trembling arms.

Why did I have to be talkative? For a guy, I knew I was too talkative. But that was just because I had so many thoughts in my head that wanted nothing more than slide down my tongue and experience the world whenever I was challenged about something I strongly believed in. And it was rare that people even talked that haughtily over something I knew so much about!

Well...apparently something I didn't really know about.

I took a deep breath as I stared out at the morning cityscape from the floor-to-ceiling window of Rupert's office. I should feel like a billionaire staring out at a city of my own but as the possible consequences of what happened seeped through my thoughts, I wanted nothing more than to shatter the thick glass and jump off to oblivion

-Another knock on the door.

I quickly ran to open it hoping it was Loramina getting a hold of her temper and giving me one more chance at being her editor. But I knew by now it would be too good to be true. The most likely person I would see standing beyond the door was-

"J-Jimmy," I choked.

"First day on the job and ye piss off an author," Professor Xavier said and I imagined myself as Scott being lectured for upsetting my girlfriend, Jean, and unwittingly unleashing the Dark Phoenix.

It was insane, yes. But it was actually a defense mechanism I acquired in my school years. To conquer my fears in public speaking, a teacher told me to imagine that the situation was something less intimidating.

For some people, the idea was to think their audience appeared naked - which would not help if you were delivering a eulogy in front of a bunch of grieving old-timers. Yes, I tried it in my grandfather's funeral. I had to make an excuse that I was clinically diagnosed with manic depression after his death just so I could avoid their wrath in my laughing fits.

So I developed my own way of making situations less intimidating. I imagined people to be characters in literature who they most closely resembled. That was how Allan became Santa Claus. Whenever he reprimanded me, I tried to think of him as Father Christmas so I didn't get too depressed. The feedback sessions with was like Santa telling me I didn't do good this month and I still had the rest of the year to make it on his gift list.

And with Jimmy - now Professor Xavier, it didn't matter if he scolded me. I was Scott Summers. I had laser eyes, and I was awesome.

"Are yeh gonna let me in or are we gonna let everyone outside hear this?" Jimmy asked, raising a brow at me.