by Laudat, Reon
Corinne flipped to the back page of the revision letter.
“You’ve written a beautiful, engrossing book, Corinne, so let me add, these are not demands,” Kendra continued. “I’d like to think of them as suggestions.” She tried injecting more warmth in what had started to feel like an oft-repeated stump speech. “And it’s your work. You have to be happy with it. You’re free to disagree. All I ask is that you take your time to reflect on the notes and not dismiss them outright.”
“Sounds fair,” Corinne said, brightening considerably. “I’ve read every author, well, um, almost every author, I mean, every literary author on your roster. Sorry, but books with a lot of explicit sex make me uncomfortable.”
“No need to apologize.”
“I prefer love scenes that leave more to the imagination,” Corinne said.
“Different strokes…” Perhaps this was Corinne’s way of letting Kendra know she had no intention of steaming up Four Simple Wishes. There was no such request in the revision letter.
“Chick lit is not my bailiwick, either,” Corinne went on. “But I realize you can learn to improve craft from everything so I do try to read high and low.”
“Low?”
“You know, genre or popular fiction,” Corinne said as if referring to the text on a box of Fruity Pebbles. “I get that there’s a type of comfort in simple, formulaic reads. You don’t have to tax the brain as much. More complex narratives obviously require more work. I’ll take in an occasional cozy mystery, a thriller, and some science fiction. Oh, and I read one of those Amish romances once.”
“Is that right?” Kendra replied without rancor. She’d grown used to condescending attitudes about most of the books on her list. Winking all the way to the bank tended to put pejorative comments in perspective.
“And because I can use all the help I can get in the man-hunting department, I read that ‘cute coupledom’ self-help guide by Lizzy what’s-her-name, and I actually liked it. I respect your opinion. Dunston’s Pass was superb and The Orchid Keeper’s Secret was a tour de force!”
“Thank you.”
“I like your vibe, Ms. Porter.”
“I’m glad. Remember, call me Kendra. Now, if you don’t have to rush off, I’d love to buy you lunch.”
“You’re on,” Corinne said with a smile. While waiting for their food, the pair chatted and compared smartphone snapshots from their hike and zip-line adventure.
Chapter 22
As promised, Dominic had left Kendra’s room a little before five a.m. to prepare for his two-hour panel discussion.
Elnora Ostertag had planted herself in the front row. With a flurry of questions and long-winded commentary, she’d managed to hijack the Q & A portion of the presentation.
She accosted Dominic soon after.
“Did you get a chance to read the first few pages?” Mrs. Ostertag struggled to keep up with Dominic’s brisk, long-legged strides toward the elevator.
“Mrs. Ostertag,” Dominic replied. “Again, the process would go much more efficiently if you’d simply follow the submission guidelines on the agency’s website. This…What you’re doing here,” he shook his head and resisted calling it what it was—being a pain in the ass— “is not necessary, ma’am.” She reminded him of his Aunt Aubrelia and even wore the same thick powdery fragrance. Though she was practically begging him to tell her to take a hike in a few choice words, he would not out of respect for an elder. “It can work against your daughter.”
Mrs. Ostertag stopped in her tracks. A shadow of remorse settled on her face and her lips quivered.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” Dominic assumed this was an attempt to manipulate him, but he stopped anyway.
“I know I’m coming on too strong.” Mrs. Ostertag’s eyes misted.
The heavy flow of conference attendees hurrying to their next destination jostled the pair so Dominic led Mrs. Ostertag to an alcove housing vending machines and an ATM.
“I believe my daughter has created a truly remarkable work. I want to do everything in my power to make sure it gets the attention it deserves.” The woman’s tears flowed in earnest.
“Please don’t cry, ma’am.” Tears always got to Dominic so he lightly placed his hand on her shoulders. “All right, I’ll hear you out.”
“See, my daughter always had it so hard growing up. First, she was a change-of-life baby. My dear husband and I had given up on having kids, and then when I thought we’d missed the window of opportunity, because I’d stopped having a monthly visitor, wham! We were blessed with our precious Corinne. So as her parents we were older than the rest of her peers’ parents. Other children picked on her because she became, well, um, curvy at a young age. I developed quickly, too. Men mistaking me for at least twenty-one when I was just eleven. Bra and Barbie shopping at the same time.”
Dominic resisted the urge to scurry away in horror. After his sleep-over date with Kendra he felt he owed the universe something.
“She never felt good enough. I know I turned into what they call a helicopter mom because she came to us so late in life, after I’d given up on having children of my own. Do you have children, Mr. Tobias?”
“Not yet.”
“Married?”
“No yet.”
“Well, when you have children, perhaps you will understand to what lengths you’re willing to go for another person.”
“I admire persistence, but again, you’re making it more difficult than it has to be, Mrs. Ostertag.”
Dominic removed his wallet and took out a business card. “Have your daughter email a synopsis and the first five manuscript pages. No, I’ll make another exception here. Have her send five sample chapters directly to me. Do you have a pen?”
When she passed him one from her purse, he moved to the ATM to write on the back of his card. “I don’t usually give out my personal email address for submissions, but here it is.”
“But I don’t understand. Why can’t you read a few pages of what you already have? Do you still have the printed copy of the manuscript?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have the extra time in Maui. And I don’t have the luggage space for transporting long documents. Now, I promise you I will take a look at it first thing when I get back home.” With an expression that said take it or leave it, he passed her the business card.
Mrs. Ostertag accepted it with a sigh of resignation.
***
Dominic returned to his room and handled two hours’ worth of agency business. He took a break from that to add several pages to his work in progress.
After making his novel’s word count for the day, he sent more business emails, which included calling in favors to secure pre-publication blurbs from best-selling author-friends for two of his newest clients. He also needed to tactfully request changes for a client who’d been screwed with dull flap copy and a bad mock-up cover featuring a stock photo of an impossibly attractive smiling couple dressed in white while strolling along the beach, hair whipping in the breeze. Everyone had seen “Impossibly Attractive Smiling Couple in White” because “Impossibly Attractive Smiling Couple in White” was every-damn-where. Slapped on a dozen other book covers, a life insurance website, and bus billboards for a national chain of varicose vein removal centers.
Next on Dominic’s agenda, attending a client’s panel discussion to offer his moral support. But first, he needed to phone Kendra to ask her out for that evening. She didn’t strike him as the sort who’d have a problem roughing it a little. Would she enjoy camping to watch the sunrise at Haleakala’s summit? He dialed her room, but hung up after not getting an answer on the fifth ring. With the conference in full swing, she was more difficult to contact. He made a mental note to ask for her cell phone number and then the box on the luggage carrier caught his attention. A big waste of paper and ink, when the Ostertag woman could’ve submitted the electronic version he preferred. He moved to dump the box in the trash, but curiosity got the better of him. He’d ignored enough tall,
teetering dust-covered slush piles over the years to last a lifetime, but after he had a manuscript in his hands he found it impossible not to read the opening line and maybe that’s what Mrs. Ostertag had counted on. She was exasperating as hell, but her ploy had worked.
Dominic could usually tell if a book worked for him in five pages. “Okay, Mrs. Ostertag,” he scanned the cover page, “let’s see what your girl’s got.” Not expecting much, he stood over the trash can as he read the first line.
Five pages later, he’d moved to sit with the manuscript.
After three hours and several chapters, Dominic had moved from the bed to the desk, making his way through one of the most absorbing novels he’d read in a long while and taking notes. He hadn’t finished the book yet, but he could tell it was indeed as special as Mrs. Ostertag had promised. This one smelled like hot auction bait. But maybe he’d only need to go to Tucker Rosedale at Lassiter & Crane with this one. L & C so revered Tucker, it named one of the house’s most prestigious imprints after him.
Before leaving New York, Dominic had met Tucker for lunch and the esteemed editor had spent half the time detailing the type of book he wanted. It was as if the book gods had overheard that conversation and placed the perfect manuscript for Tucker in Dominic’s hands. Surely, he’d pay big for it and thwart a potential auction. When Dominic dialed the phone number listed on the cover page he wasn’t surprised it was the elder Ostertag’s voice in his ear.
“I knew you’d call if you read the first few pages,” Mrs. Ostertag said in a sprightly voice.
“You were right,” Dominic replied, “It is an excellent book. Deeply resonant. Compelling. Beautifully written.”
“I told you so. Now we can get right down to business. You want to represent the novel, am I right?”
“Yes, but I’ll need to make my pitch to your daughter.”
“You can discuss it with me first.”
“I’ll speak to the two of you at the same time. Corinne is in Maui, correct?”
“Yes. You didn’t meet her? She told me you were on that zip-lining tour.”
“I was, but I don’t recall meeting her.”
Mrs. Ostertag made a grumbling noise in the phone. “Figures. She told me she saw you. Do you remember the extra curvy girl, Rubenesque? In a hat and jacket busy with daisies? Anyway, I’m sure she hung back. We spent all that money on her MFA, and she didn’t approach one visiting agent the entire time. She didn’t workshop this particular novel in class because of her timidity and anxieties. You see, criticism or critiques, even well-meaning ones, can be somewhat of a challenge for her.”
“Is that right?” Dominic tapped a pen against the desk. Would Corinne survive the bloody gauntlet also known as the revision-and-review process?
“I have to push her,” Mrs. Ostertag clucked. “A meeting with both of us can be arranged. And you’d better bring your A game. Another outstanding agent has expressed strong interest. And because we’re all for girl power, she has an edge over you.”
Dominic arched a brow. “Mind revealing this agent expressing strong interest?”
“I’d rather not. We need to keep some things close to the vest, Mr. Tobias. May I call you Dominic?”
“I prefer it. I have a feeling this is the beginning of a mutually advantageous relationship.”
“We shall see, after I hear your pitch.”
The woman’s you’re-the-only-agent-for-this-book pleas had obviously been part of her strategy to stroke Dominic’s ego. Teary-eyed Mom had been replaced with Wheeler-dealer Mom. He had to admit he admired her chutzpah and craftiness. They used the next few minutes to choose a time and meeting place that worked for all parties.
Soon after he ended his conversation with Mrs. Ostertag, Dominic’s cell rang.
“I need to meet with you,” Brody said.
Dominic put Brody on speaker mode as he scrolled through his schedule. “Let’s see, how about four or five today?”
“That’ll work,” Brody said, sounding distracted.
“Is everything okay?”
Silence followed by an unconvincing, “Yeah.”
“Is this about your new deadline?”
“Not really.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to get into it on the phone. I owe you a face-to-face meeting.”
Owe me? Dominic tried decoding Brody’s comment. He would not spend the next few hours puzzling over this. “C’mon, man, out with it.”
Brody paused before heaving a heavy sigh.
“It’s me. Dominic. You can tell me anything.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Well, um. I think it’s time for me to seek new representation.”
“You’re joking, right?” Dominic replied with a dry laugh, though Brody had lobbed what felt like a flash grenade.
“No, I’m afraid I’m not.”
“You’re firing me?”
“Look, I appreciate all the work you’ve done on my behalf, but my gut is telling me it’s time to move on.”
“Move on?” Dominic’s voice stayed even, but his grip on the cell phone tightened. “To what? To whom? Is this about the initial disagreement over your deadline?”
“No.”
“Remember, you got what you wanted. More time. So what’s the problem?”
“I can’t shake the feeling I need something different right now.”
“You want to change what you’re writing? Your genre?”
“No.”
“You’ve enjoyed the kind of success most writers would kill for.”
“And you deserve some of the credit for that. You’ve done a great job. But it’s not about the money or hitting the best-seller lists anymore. It’s me. I need a change. ”
“And you’ve thought about this?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re sure this isn’t about the book-a-year schedule I negotiated with your publisher?” Dominic couldn’t resist adding, “The one you initially agreed you could handle?”
There had to be more to Brody’s sudden need for “change,” but he obviously wasn’t going to share it with Dominic, who couldn’t believe he was on the receiving end of the “it’s-me-not-you” speech. He’d heard it enough in his personal life, but when it came to business, he’d only had writers slowly fade off the scene after their publishers failed to renew their contracts due to poor sales. He’d had disillusioned writers quit the business because they no longer had the stomach for the unpredictability and the fact that so much of the process of traditional publishing was out of their control. He’d passed a few clients (with their approval) to other Impact agents that were stronger in the clients’ respective genres. He’d had a few go full-out indie. In those cases the agency negotiated foreign and other rights for them. He’d even had two writers die on him, but, as far as he knew, none had out-and-out left him for new representation at another agency. What the freakin’ hell!
“And there’s nothing I can say or do to change your mind? Maybe we need to have a nice, long, no-holds-barred talk. I’m open to that. There must be something—”
“No, there’s nothing you can do.”
“Maybe another agent at Impact—”
“No. I’ve made up my mind. So, do I need to send a letter? Or will you accept this conversation as my thirty-day notice? I’ll send something anyway. I believe the contract states that it should be a registered or certified letter. You’re aces with me, but a paper trail will make things neat and official.”
Neat and official. Dominic’s pride goaded him to tell Brody their agreement was terminated as of right now, damn the 30-day notice. Or better still, he could tell Brody to make himself a copy of that notice, then neatly and officially shove it up his ass.
But then, a lot could happen in thirty days. Brody could change his mind about leaving Impact. Unless he’d already made a verbal agreement with someone else. Of course Brody had put out feelers. Contract stipulations aside, a savvy writer would not cut ties with an agent of Dominic’s c
aliber without a suitable backup plan already in place.
Again, Dominic thought back to the day before when he’d found Brody and Kendra on that tour bus with their heads together. Kendra was not about “lurking in the gray areas” of the game or so she’d repeatedly said. If he were to take her at her word, she would not promise or seriously discuss representation until Brody was all free and clear.
Or would she?
Dominic considered his strong emotional and physical attractions to Kendra. They felt real. Organic. But were they the only reasons she’d stopped playing the sore loser and resisting his advances? It was possible she’d already bagged Brody.
Was she playing nice with Dominic so she’d catch him off guard when he discovered Brody had moved on to Porter Literary Agency? Nabbing Brody was the perfect payback. And how did Dominic feel about Kendra landing one of his prized clients? Turnabout was fair play after all. But how he should feel and how he actually felt were not always neatly aligned.
“Business aside,” Brody said. “I consider you a good friend, like a brother.”
“Yeah, brothers.” Ungrateful motherfucker.
“We’ll still hang out when I’m in the city?”
“You have to ask?” Dominic said with a light chuckle. “Of course we will. You’re still the man.” Bite me.
“Whew. Glad there are no hard feelings.”
“No hard feelings. Best of luck.” Dickhead.
Chapter 23
Dominic invited Kendra to join him for an overnight stay at a car-accessible campground on the slopes of Haleakala, just below the seven-thousand-foot level of the summit.
“I’m so glad you agreed to give up a night in our cushy resort to rough it out here with me.” Dominic stood over a grill preparing their dinner.
“I don’t consider the premium steaks and vegetable kabobs you’re cooking ‘roughing it.’” Kendra relaxed in a lawn chair positioned to avoid direct smoke from the barbecue.