Page 7 of Tricking an Introvert

Tessa

She was in an alternate reality. That must be the reason Cole came to give her drinks twice that afternoon. Then, as soon as the con ended, Michael Croft called to go out for drinks and chat business.

He’d never worked with illustrators directly; his publisher used to handle that for his old projects, and since going independent, he’d only used photo manipulation artists.

She explained her process.

“I work with a few different people; they all have their own way. Some tell me exactly what they want, down to the length of the sword and the angle of the character’s face. Others just tell me the story and ask me to come up with drafts. Either way, when we first start, I tend to give you two or three pencil sketches in black and white, a little like these.” She opened her iPad to her latest sketches. “They're so we can agree on the setup, layout, position. You tell me everything that works, what you don’t like, and I detail and color it in the next stage. Then, I typically come up with a couple different color options, too. At every stage, I can modify details—these are entirely custom, so if you don’t like something, it can be changed. I charge extra for the clients who want more than ten hours’ worth of changes post-coloring, though.”

“That’s more than fair. What about your schedule? I typically write between two and four novels per year, with some occasional short stories, and when I start a series, I like to have the covers for all volumes…”

They talked details, then Michael chatted about his next series, and she practically lost herself in his world with elves at war, sighing in delight.

“So, what do you think?” he asked finally.

Michael was blushing, almost hesitant. What the hell?

“That I want it now. Yesterday. Pretty please?”

He laughed, visibly relieved. “All right. Well, that’s what I’d like illustrations for.”

She was hyperventilating. “Seriously? I…I’d be honored. I mean, we have to work out the details and timing, but if you’d consider me…”

“Yeah. I like your drawings, your price, and our schedules seem to fit. I think you’d work well. When can you start?”

“Now? I mean, I have ongoing projects, although I never overbook myself. I’ll have time to put together some mood sketches. I can get them to you within the next couple of weeks—and I’ll schedule you for completion within a month as long as you like them.”

“Deal.”

Tessa could have kissed Cole if he’d appeared right then. As if on cue, the man walked in the bar, his presence demanding the attention of everyone the instant he appeared. Old or young, men and women all turned to him.

He looked around and, spotting them, strode forward with the confidence of a Greek god entering the mortal realm.

He pulled a chair from an empty table and brought it next to Michael’s.

“Sorry to crash. How is it going?”

“I hired her,” Michael replied, grinning.

“Good! Champagne, then?”

Tessa glanced at her watch and groaned. “Sorry, I’m supposed to go to a thing…”

It sounded like she was making an excuse to leave now that she’d gotten what she wanted, and she hated it. She was beet red again, and embarrassed as heck. Maybe she could cancel?

“Sure. We should try to find dinner somewhere anyway.”

Tessa bit her lip. She wasn’t the kind of person who invited people to do stuff with her—ever. Even among her friends, she never organized things; she just showed up when they begged her.

Now, after landing such a great client, she really didn’t want them to think she was avoiding them.

“Do you like crab?” she asked out of the blue.

Michael and Cole exchanged a look.

“I love crab,” Michael said finally. “Haven’t had it in ages. Christ, probably for ten years or so. And now, I need crab. Tell me more.”

Cole sighed. “Seafood,” he groaned mournfully.

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