I hated when Rob made jabs about my work ethic in front of Daneen. Even though I knew he was playing, she didn’t, but I let it slide to get on with my announcement. “A New York literary agent is interested in my book.”
Rob beamed at me. “Fantastic, Kim. Next stop, New York Times bestseller list.”
I crossed my fingers. “She hasn’t signed me yet, so let’s not get carried away.” Nevertheless, I couldn’t contain my grin.
“Yes, let’s not get carried away,” Daneen mumbled.
I turned to face her, my face heating up. “What did you say?”
Daneen smiled sweetly. “I think it’s terrific an agent liked your book…”
“Thank you—”
“But like you said, she hasn’t signed you yet. Remember that other agent? The one you were so revved up about at squad drinks? I wouldn’t want you to get your hopes up too high again.”
Even though I was privately afraid Daneen was right, I opened my mouth to tell her she could shove my hopes up her bony ass. I closed my mouth when it dawned on me the only way Daneen would have known Ginny rejected me was if Nicholas had told her. What was wrong with him?
“What’s the next step?” Rob asked.
“We’re meeting on Thursday at the lobby bar at the Ace Hotel.” I bit my lip. “I’ll need to leave early. I hope you don’t mind. I was so thrilled, I agreed to meet her at five o’clock without thinking. I can come in a half hour early or work through lunch.”
Rob smiled. “That won’t be necessary. I think we can hold down the fort for thirty minutes.”
“Thank you.” Needling me in front of the enemy notwithstanding, I had every reason to love my boss. And being pessimistic would not protect me from an eventual rejection, so I might as well embrace being optimistic while it lasted.
“Kind of weird she wants to meet at a bar instead of her office, no?” Daneen asked.
I glared at her.
Daneen shrugged. “I’m just saying. It doesn’t sound very official, and I would hate to see you disappointed.”
“Sure you would,” I muttered.
Rob cleared his throat. “Great job, Long. Keep us posted. And get back to work.”
I chuckled. “On my way.” Without a backward glance at Daneen, I turned on my heel and walked out of his office to my desk. I had several more calls to make.
Later that night, I lay in bed binge-watching Orange Is the New Black. I was in no danger of falling asleep—too charged with adrenaline due to the day’s events and stoked for Nicholas to get home from work so we could celebrate. When I heard the key in the door, I abruptly sat up, eager to greet him. I wondered if he picked up flowers or bubbly on the way home. I smoothed out my hair, positioned myself casually on the bed, and turned off the television set. The sound of him dropping his keys on the kitchen table was followed by the opening and closing of the refrigerator door, and I waited impatiently for him to make his way into our bedroom. When he finally did, his head was down.
“Hi, baby,” I said in a low voice. My stomach dropped in disappointment when I glanced at his empty hands.
Nicholas appeared startled as he whipped his head in my direction and smiled. “Hey. I thought you’d be asleep.”
I stretched my arms over my head. “Too wired to sleep.”
Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed. Kissing me on the forehead, he said, “What’s going on?”
“Felicia Harrison wants to meet with me. Remember?”
Nicholas’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“I take it your silence means you forgot.” I forced a smile.
Nicholas frowned. “I’m sorry, Kimmie. Work was crazy today. It slipped my mind.” He scratched his scruffy chin.
Maybe Daneen was right and I was getting riled up over nothing. “No worries. Like Daneen said, there’s no need to get carried away. She hasn’t signed me or anything. Speaking of Daneen—”
“She will,” Nicholas interrupted before I could complete my sentence.
“You think?” I held my breath.
“I don’t think,” he said, brushing a hair away from my face. “I know. And when she does, we’ll celebrate in style.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. But I’ve got just the activity to keep your mind off of it for now,” he said, planting soft kisses on my neck.
As a rush of warmth coursed through my body, all thoughts of confronting him about spilling my private business to Daneen were forgotten. I ran a hand over his rough jaw. No one wore scruff as well as Nicholas. “Yeah? What were you thinking?”
Lifting my nightshirt over my head, he flashed me a devilish grin. “To borrow a phrase I’ve heard you use many times, better to show than tell.”
Chapter 17
Although, regretfully, I didn’t connect with any of the characters enough to enjoy this book as much as I’d hoped, I think many fans of chick lit, especially those in the music industry, would adore the solid writing and spicy romance of Radio Nights by Missy Spencer.
“Kim.”
I lifted my head from my laptop and locked eyes with Bridget, who was sitting next to me on her couch. “Huh?”
“Are you almost finished? We’re starving here.” She glanced over at Jonathan, who was standing by the windowsill smoking a cigarette. “Aren’t we?”
Jonathan nodded in agreement.
Rather than go directly home after work, I had made plans with Bridget and Jonathan for dinner to distract me from obsessing over my meeting with Felicia Harrison the following night. Of course, I had every intention of analyzing it ad nauseum during our meal. “Okay, I need five more minutes to proofread this review, post it, and then share it on Facebook, Twitter, and Google Plus.” Rob had me running around like crazy all day, and I didn’t have time to post a review for a blog tour I was coordinating. The author had already sent me a gentle email asking what time it would be up. Thankfully, she lived in California where it was three hours earlier, but I knew she was anxiously awaiting my review, and I prided myself on keeping my authors happy. Although I suspected she wouldn’t be too pleased with the three-pink-champagne-flutes review.
“Five minutes,” Bridget repeated with a nod of her head.
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Actually, make it ten. I also want to post the review on Goodreads, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon.”
Bridget sighed. “Can’t you do those things later?”
“I have my process down to a science, Bridge. I need to follow protocol, or my system will be all messed up.”
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “If we don’t eat soon, I’m going to order the entire menu, and then guess whose system will be messed up? It won’t be pretty.”
Bridget wrinkled her nose. “I can vouch for that. Please, K?”
I chuckled. “You’ve convinced me. Besides, it will give me something to do when I get home later besides imagine all of the ways I’m going to embarrass myself in front of Felicia.”
Twenty minutes later, we were feasting on edamame, shumai, four special rolls, and one salmon and avocado roll at Poke, a BYOB sushi restaurant around the corner from Bridget and Jonathan’s apartment. On the way, we stopped at a liquor store, and Jonathan bought a bottle of sake to share with Bridget. Rather than risk a hangover, I was sticking to water, but my arm was twisted to nurse one small glass of sake to take the edge off of my anxiety.
“Why are you so nervous, Long?” Jonathan asked.
I tossed an empty edamame shell in the plate set in the middle of our table. “Because she’s a big New York City agent. I want to impress her.”
“You’ve already crossed the most important threshold,” he said before sliding a shot of sake down his throat and refilling his glass.
“And what threshold is that?” I asked.
He looked at me incredulously. “Uh, she liked the book and wan
ts to meet you?”
I slouched in my chair. “Yeah, there’s that.”
Bridget giggled. “Leave it to Kim to take something potentially great and rewrite it into something ominous.”
“I’m a writer. It’s what I do.” I chuckled as I grabbed a piece of spicy tuna and jalapeño roll with my chopsticks and dipped it into soy sauce.
Looking at me fondly, Bridget said, “It’s so Kim of you.”
“I’m PMSing too,” I confided.
Rolling his eyes, Jonathan said, “And that’s my cue.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to step out early for my weekly Risk night, but here’s my advice, for what’s it worth. Go in there with quiet confidence. She already told you she loved your book. I know you’re worried about the changes she mentioned, but be open to them, and don’t get defensive. Don’t forget to breathe and, if necessary, excuse yourself to the bathroom to gather your thoughts before you respond. I firmly believe in the twenty-second rule.”
“What’s the twenty-second rule?” Bridget and I asked at the same time.
Jonathan placed his chopsticks on the table. “It’s human nature to defend ourselves against criticism, or any behavior we think of as unfair or insulting. If we follow our first instinct to lash out in response, we can set ourselves up for getting in deep trouble, but if we wait twenty seconds, we’re more likely to act rationally. Imagine receiving an email from your boss asking you to stay late on a night he knows you have major plans.”
“I do not miss the days of having a boss,” Bridget said.
Jonathan scooted his chair closer to Bridget’s. “Neither do I.”
I waited patiently for Bridget and Jonathan to finish rubbing noses like Inuit while basking in their self-employed status.
Focusing his attention back on me, Jonathan continued. “After reading an email like that, you might mutter ‘screw you’ under your breath, but if you take it one step further and send a scathing response to your boss, you can kiss your job goodbye. Better to take a deep breath, walk a lap around the floor, or go to the bathroom before reacting. In your case, listen to what this agent has to say and take your time responding. Initially, you might think ‘There is no way I’m making these changes to my book,’ but after some thought, you might realize she has a point. Don’t burn bridges.”
My mouth fell open, unaccustomed to receiving such sage advice from Jonathan—the same guy who spent most of our senior prom smoking pot in the parking lot and still maintained a weekly night in with the boys to play Risk. It was obvious Bridget was equally wowed by the way she was beaming at him. “I don’t even know how to respond, Jonathan. Great advice. Thank you.”
Jonathan waved me away. “You’re welcome. It was nothing.”
Bridget kissed a blushing Jonathan on the cheek. “It was something. Don’t sell yourself short, sweetie.”
Jonathan tossed two twenties on the table and stood up. “Sorry to run. Good luck tomorrow. I’m sure Bridget will let me know how it went.” After a quick peck on Bridget’s lips, he threw on his coat and exited the restaurant.
“Color me impressed,” I said to Bridget.
Bridget watched through the window as Jonathan walked down the street. “The love of a good woman has the power to open up a man’s potential.” A film of pink creeping up her cheeks, she said, “Not that you weren’t a good woman back in high school.”
I laughed. “No offense taken. I wasn’t a woman; I was a girl. And I didn’t really love Jonathan. Not the way you do.”
With a faraway look in her eyes, Bridget smiled.
“I won the bet, you know.” In response to her confused expression, I clarified. “You bet me Hannah wouldn’t deliver my book to Felicia as promised. You lost.”
Bridget shrugged. “There must be something in it for her. Maybe she gets some sort of referral fee.”
Whatever motivated Hannah to come through for me, I was grateful and not interested in fighting about it with Bridget. “In any event, it’s payback time.”
Bridget raised an eyebrow. “Remind me of the conditions of this bet.”
“If you won, I owed you dinner at Gina’s. If I won…” I smiled wickedly. “You promised me your honest take on Jonathan’s wacko refusal to ever get married.”
“Just because you don’t agree with something doesn’t make it ‘wacko.’”
Bridget tossed her napkin on the plate. “I already told you I’m cool with it. Several times.”
“Since when? We’ve had countless discussions on this topic over the course of our friendship, and you were always pro-marriage.”
Bridget shook her head. “We never shared our thoughts on being in a committed relationship without actually tying the knot.”
“But—”
“And the reason I never mentioned the latter possibility is because I didn’t even know it was an option. We were raised accepting marriage as a given. I wasn’t aware of any alternatives because I wasn’t exposed to them. I love Jonathan. I’m in love for the first time in my life, and I’m certain beyond debate he feels the same way about me. Making it ‘legal’ is inconsequential.”
“How can you say that? Do you know how hard LBGT people worked to get same-sex marriages legalized?”
Bridget threw her head back and sighed impatiently. “And I vehemently support those rights, Kim. But it doesn’t mean I want to get married. Just because I’m legally entitled to do something doesn’t mean I have to do it. Just because prostitution is legal in some states doesn’t mean I’m going to whore myself out.” Narrowing her eyes at me, she asked, “Why is this so important to you? Is it because of Nicholas?”
I frowned into my plate at the sound of his name. Despite amazing sex the night before, I couldn’t kick my disappointment with his lackluster response to Felicia’s interest in my novel and his failure to keep my personal business from Daneen, something I still hadn’t confronted him about. “It has nothing to do with him. I’m worried you’re giving up on something important to you without a fight, but I’ll let it go.”
She smiled at me. “Thank you. If I change my mind, you’ll be the second to know. Right after Jonathan.”
“Swear?” Even though I was tempted to accuse her of merely repeating Jonathan’s arguments, I knew my continued pursuit of the subject would seriously piss her off.
She extended her pinky toward me. “On Hannah Marshak’s life.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “If you’re attempting to reassure me, you might want to choose a person you don’t hate.”
“I don’t hate her. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine,” Bridget said unconvincingly.
“She’s not my friend,” I corrected.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Bridget mumbled into her plate.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Not looking me in the eyes, Bridget said, “You’ve had drinks with her twice now.”
My head jerked back. “Yes, two times in the course of almost a year. And the first time, she dragged me out of Starbucks insisting the dirt she had on Daneen required a seedier environment than a chain coffee shop. And if you recall, you and Caroline encouraged me to meet her the second time so I could ask for help getting an agent.”
Bridget’s face turned red.
Knowing I had her cornered, I pressed on. “Using that logic, you can blame yourself for my budding friendship with Hannah.”
Bridget covered her ears with her hands. “I don’t hear you. La la la la.”
Smirking, I shook my head at her until we broke out into simultaneous laughter.
Chapter 18
The following afternoon, David hovered over my desk while waiting for Rob to give him the heads-up to enter. He was in a closed-door meeting with another partner. “We decided on Barbados. Amy’s fantasy is to honeymoon in Fiji or Bora Bora, but we just can’t afford the airfare.”
&nb
sp; I frowned. “I can only imagine. But at least this way, you can use the money you saved on airfare on fancy restaurants or exciting excursions. My sister said the seafood in Barbados is amazing, and she’s difficult to please. I can ask her for restaurant recommendations.” Even though it would mean an extended phone call with my sister so soon after her visit, during which she would no doubt rehash the details of the weeklong vacation she and Gerry had taken the year before and probably drill me about Hannah, David was one of my favorite colleagues.
David beamed at me, his blue eyes bright. “I’d appreciate it. Thanks.”
“Anytime. Besides, I’m sure marrying you is Amy’s fantasy come true.”
Thrusting his chest out, David said, “I certainly hope so. Her becoming my wife is definitely a dream come true for me.”
I wasn’t planning to tell anyone about my meeting with Felicia, but was afraid I’d burst if I kept silent any longer. “Between you and me, one of my dreams might come true tonight as well.”
David leaned toward me. “Do tell.”
“A literary agent read my book and we’re meeting after work to discuss it. I’m praying she’ll want to represent me.”
My breathing quickened just saying the words.
When Rob bellowed, “You there, David?” from his office, I noticed his door was now open and Daneen had come out.
David shrugged. “I guess it’s my turn now. If I don’t see you before you leave, good luck tonight.”
When the door closed behind him, I glanced at the bottom of my computer, praying it was significantly closer to four forty than the last time I checked. I wanted ten minutes of prep time to brush my teeth and freshen up my makeup before leaving to meet Felicia. It was only a few minutes past three.
“So your meeting with that literary agent is tonight?”
I looked up at Daneen and nodded softly. I wouldn’t dare brag to her, especially since my overconfidence with Ginny Webber had blown up in my face.
“What time?”
“Five. Rob said I could leave a little early.” I braced myself for her less than supportive response. In typical Daneen fashion, she would probably remind me not to get my hopes up and to think twice about taking advantage of my boss’s good nature over a pipe dream.
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