To Callaway, Backdated
"Are you sure I can't talk to him?" Parker said, clutching his manuscript to his chest. The publishing company had sent it back with a rejection letter and this was the last one Parker was going to take sitting down. He hadn't ever thought of getting an agent to do this sort of thing. All he knew about the writing industry was that he wanted in and damn if these people didn't tell him why his work wasn't good enough to get published when things like Twilight were being printed.

"No, Mr. Reigh. Mr. Sanders is in a meeting right now and even if he wasn't, it isn't likely that he would be able to take your request. He's very busy. Please, resubmit your manuscript at a later time." The woman was used to dealing with desperate writers who had been recently rejected by the company. Parker grit his teeth together and could hardly keep from slamming the stack of papers and the deceptively blithe manila envelope in which they'd sent his rejection down on the desk. He stood there, refusing to leave and the receptionist looked up at him blankly, stubbornly as their stand off began.