“There is new evidence that was never admitted during the first trial. The father assaulted these girls. Sexually. Apparently someone has come forward, and this could blow the case wide open.”
“But the book I read doesn’t even mention that. Is it being rewritten?”
“Yes, we have one of our bests ghosts on it. He’s working with them both right now. Trust me, this will be good.”
“But isn’t one of the twins married to some guy who she was pen pals with? A prison marriage, really? Mac, I can’t do anything with that, and the media will discredit the crap out of her. Didn’t they blow like a few grand on male prostitutes, too?”
“Prisoners get married all the time, Kate. Besides, if it comes out that the parents did this, then no one will care that she’s married. And as for the prostitutes, a good lawyer will blame that on the trauma of sexual abuse.”
“You said the parents, Mac. Do you mean they were both involved?”
Mac nodded, thinking of his own kids. His stomach turned. “Apparently the mother knew what was going on and helped.”
“Jesus. Mac, why didn’t any of this come out during the trial?”
“Too many people were afraid of them, even after they were dead. The Shenkmans knew a lot of people and had a lot of friends—none of them very nice people. I think most of LA figured since the girls confessed, they’d let them serve time, and that would be that. Also, the attorney insists that after the O.J. acquittal, LA desperately needed a conviction. He says he can get the judge, now retired of course, to put in writing that he was pressured to sway this trial one way or another.”
“But Mac, they both got life.”
“True, and if they get this retrial, they could get out in six months or less.”
“When is it releasing?”
“We’re crashing this book in sixty days. They’ll do a round of interviews, and pending a push for a retrial, their attorney has agreed to time his announcement with the release of this book.”
Kate rubbed her forehead. What the hell was Edward thinking?
Mac’s eyes softened. “Katie, look, I get it, I really do. We go from classy to trashy faster than you can say book returns. We just have to honor Edward’s whims.”
Kate nodded. “I know. I’m just sick of, I don’t know, tabloid publishing. Sometimes I feel like I’m working with Judith Regan.”
Mac laughed. “Be glad you’re not. I had dinner with her once. I’ve never heard so much foul language come out of such a sweet looking face. The woman can’t blink without saying ‘fuck.’”
Kate smiled. “The stories are all true then. I wonder what they’ll say about us someday, Mac?”
He smiled. “Well, they won’t say much about me. I’m just a dusty editor trying to publish some books. But you, Kate, when people talk about you, they’ll say ‘she was that publicist who tried to change publishing.’”
Kate stood up. “Yes, and the footnote to that will be that I became a raging, insufferable alcoholic at the same time.”
Chapter Four
Kate slid the key into the lock and opened the door to her apartment. She was exhausted. It had been a long day full of meetings—not to mention starting at the crack of dawn to drug up an author. All in a day’s work.
“Hi Kate,” Grace smiled from the couch. “I was going to wait for you in the hallway, but there’s no heat. Your landlord is cheap. I hope it’s okay that I let myself in.”
Kate quietly shut the door behind her; she should have expected this. She’d gone MIA on Grace for over a week now.
“I almost sent you a text, and you know how I hate those. If I had, you would have known that Armageddon was upon us and it was time to return my many phone calls and emails. By the way, you’re out of Oreos.”
Kate shrugged out of her coat and set down her purse and briefcase. “Hi, Gracie. Sorry, I’ve been caught up in work.”
Her friend continued to smile, though her tone didn’t support it. Grace was clearly annoyed. “No you haven’t. You’ve been caught up in Mac and afraid to tell me that you’re still seeing him.”
There was no fooling Grace.
Kate inhaled deeply and sat down beside her friend, “It’s complicated.”
“It always is when they’re married.”
“No, it’s more than that. There was a disaster at work that almost cost Mac his job. I had to help him, and then, well, I just realized I couldn’t leave.” Kate felt ashamed suddenly, now knowing what Grace’s mother had gone through and what Grace must think of her.
“Gracie, look, we had this book. It’s a long story, but it failed horribly even before it was released. I mean it was bad. The author was writing about her massive weight loss and regaining her life, and we found out she was still tipping the scales at over three hundred pounds. Mac nearly got fired over this, and….”
“Kate, stop.” Grace held up her hand. “You can leave; you just don’t want to. There’s a difference. If you’re going to do this, at least be honest with yourself.”
After a long pause Kate finally said, “I don’t want to leave him, Gracie, but I don’t know that I can stay either. Nick’s been calling. I need to tell him something, and I really don’t know what.”
Kate’s eyes clouded over and Grace knew it was too tender a subject to push her too hard. “It’s okay, Kate. It really is. Do you want to know what I think?”
“You already told me, Grace, and I respect that.”
Grace shook her head, dozens of black curls bouncing around her face. “No, that’s what I felt when I thought you could leave. Let me tell you what I think now.”
Kate wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this; it had been a long day dealing with Chelsea and the Shenkman twins. She’d even turned down dinner with Mac. All she wanted was a bath and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s.
Grace took in a deep breath. She knew if she pushed too hard, she’d send Kate into a tailspin. “I will take your lack of response to mean you want to hear my brilliant thoughts, so here goes. I think you should play this out. If you don’t, you’ll always wonder, and you’ll end up resenting me for pushing you. So, do it—love this man until you know you can’t love him anymore. When you’re ready for that phase, I’ll be here for you.”
Kate wasn’t sure what to say. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I’ve made bad decisions when it comes to men—you know that all too well. I may not be the best judge of right and wrong. Look, I know I badgered you about him. He’s married, yadda yadda, I know it, you know it, he knows it. But I also know you. You have to follow something until the end, and so you will. As for Nick, I think he’s perfect for you, but you don’t. So there you have it.”
“It’s not that I don’t care for Nick,” Kate offered. “I just don’t want to hurt him, and until I know where Mac and I are going…” Her words trailed off. “Until I play this out,” she said—rephrasing her statement, “I can’t let Nick get caught in the middle of my mess.”
Grace leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “That’s my Katie. Good for you. Don’t string someone like Nick along, but if I were you, I wouldn’t cut him off. He could be a good friend and someday, when this ends with Mac, well, you never know.”
Kate bit her bottom lip. Grace was right, not if but when. When it ended. Her heart felt heavy with the unspoken goodbyes that were an eventual part of their relationship.
Grace pushed a strand of chestnut hair off of her friend’s shoulder. “Until then, enjoy this wonderful and dangerously handsome man, because, for what it’s worth, I do think he loves you, too.”
“You do?” Kate could feel her heart skip.
Grace hugged her. “I do, Katie, but remember he has to have the courage to go, and that’s not something you should count on.”
“I know.”
Grace pulled back, locking eyes with her friend. “I’ll be here when you need me. No matter what.”
“I love you, Grace.” Kate’s eyes filled with tears. How did she get so lucky
to have such a good friend?
“And I love you, Kate. Now let’s go eat. I’m starving and all of this understanding friend stuff is going to cost you dinner.”
Kate chuckled, “You bet, but for dessert I have a pint of ice cream in the fridge that’s calling our names.”
…
Kate dropped into bed as soon as she got home; the day had exhausted her. When her phone rang, she glanced at the caller ID. It was Mac.
“Hey…”
“You sound tired. Rough day, wasn’t it?”
The sound of his voice sent an unmistakable shiver down her spine and heightened her senses. His voice was thick and deep, and comforting.
“Yeah, you could say that. Grace was here when I got home, too.”
Mac was silent for a moment, “How did that go?” Kate had confided in him that she’d been avoiding Grace, but kept her friend’s secret about her mother’s disastrous love affair with a married politician.
“It was good, actually. We talked, had Korean food—you know—girl stuff.”
“Did she try to talk you into leaving me?”
“She’s never been a fan of us dating, or whatever this is we’re doing.”
“Dating.” Mac said firmly, then cleared his throat. “Listen, Katie, can we have dinner tomorrow?”
Kate pushed herself up on her pillow. “Sounds serious, Mac. Is that why you’re calling?”
She could almost feel Mac’s sexy smile and sensual, magnetic pull through the phone. “It’s because I miss the sound of your voice. Plus, I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise, Mac? Please tell me it’s not work-related.”
“Not even close.”
“Good,” she sighed into the phone, “then you’re on for dinner.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Katie. Sweet dreams.”
“Goodnight, Mac.” Kate clicked off and lay in bed wondering what Mac was up to. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought of his voice, the sweet feel of his hand resting on the curve of her back. Warmth spread through her body, which lulled her into a deep sleep.
Chapter Five
Lulu popped her head into Kate’s office. “The New York Times is trying to reach you for a quote, but somehow he got transferred to me. I’m sending the guy to you, Rick somebody. Given how he got bounced around, I think he’s new.”
“Thanks, Lu. Do you know what he wants a quote on?”
“No idea. Want me to ask?”
“No, just put him through.”
Lulu went back to her desk. “Rick, I’m sending you to her now. Hang on.” Lulu had an odd feeling about this guy. Maybe she should have asked him what he wanted instead of just sending this on. She hit the transfer button and hoped for the best.
“Kate Mitchell,” she answered in her best, crisp, ‘I am a publicist’ voice. Regardless of the matter, it was always important to keep the publicity face on for the New York Times.
“Thanks for taking the time, Kate, I appreciate this. My name is Rick Vaughn, and I’m new to the book department. I’ve been assigned a story on fake reviews polluting the Amazon pages of authors.”
Kate knew this topic well. A piece in the Times weeks before had launched a firestorm of discussion about authors who faked their reviews either by populating the page with a slew of fake identities or hiring someone to do it for them. There were companies set up to do just this, and authors hired them in droves, hoping to glam up their Amazon author pages with high praise in the form of five-star reviews. Now, however, an author page with nothing but five star reviews was regarded as suspect. Several weeks before, Edward had brought this touchy subject up in a meeting and had strongly encouraged all publicity people to caution their authors about doing this, reminding them that this could negatively affect the integrity of their book.
“Yes, I am well aware of this problem,” she said.
“We started doing this piece after someone had populated their book with a truckload of negative reviews, then we realized that the issue of fake review placement is still going on.” He was referring to a recent book about Michael Jackson that had triggered an outrage from his fans who went onto Amazon and posted over one hundred one-star reviews, all anonymously.
“I imagine it’s hard to stop this, but MD takes this matter very seriously. We discourage our authors from this type of activity.”
“Then you’ll probably be surprised to learn that we’ve found newly-released books with no less than ninety-five, five-star, raving reviews. When we investigated further, we found that they were all set up from dummy accounts.”
“Wow, terrible; it’s amazing the lengths people will go to. I would hope that Amazon would step in on this kind of a thing. Who was the author?”
“Sasha Meiner.” The name fell on Kate like a ten-ton load of bricks from the sky.
“Excuse me, did you say Sasha?” Kate drummed her fingers on her desk in a nervous rhythm.
Sasha was her author and although she was talented, a negative review by the New York Times for her first book had sent her into a tailspin. The sales had been affected, though it was tough to prove it was the only reason why the book had done less than stellar. MD had reluctantly published her second, and though she had a three-book deal, it was likely that MD would find a way around the third book unless the second one blew the doors off of their expectations.
“We discovered this and went back to Amazon for clarification. They have yet to respond to us.”
“Right, well, it’s tough to get them to respond to anything, isn’t it?” Kate tried to force a lighthearted tone into her voice, but the truth was she couldn’t even fake a smile, unlike Sasha who could, apparently, fake dozens of reviews. It was all Kate could do not to slam the phone down, find Sasha, and slap some sense into her.
“So, would you like to say anything about this, Ms. Mitchell?”
“Please call me Kate,” she said, trying to buy some time. What the hell could she say? My freak of an author didn’t think the rules applied to her? If Kate could rip the reviews down from Amazon herself, she would. But that was out of her control, much like anything this loose cannon did.
Kate took a deep breath, and in her best publicist voice said, “Rick, we discourage our authors, and in fact, we admonish them for doing this. It’s never been an issue before. I suspect Sasha was feeling vulnerable; she has a lot riding on her publishing career. Not to defend her actions at all. We’ll make sure she sets this right.”
“What will you do?” the reporter asked.
Go over there, handcuff her to her computer, and force her to remove every one of her fake-ass love-letter reviews until she’s blue in the face. Then I’ll slap the crap out of her and hopefully knock some sense into this spoiled, rich bitch child. Kate, of course, couldn’t say that. She also wondered if anyone in publishing gave out medals for showing amazing restraint.
“I’m going to call Sasha and demand that she remove these. We don’t tolerate this at MD.”
“Thanks, Kate. If I need anything else, I’ll let you know.”
Kate slammed the phone down. “Damn it!” she said to no one, and dropped her head in her hands. Of course, it had to be one of her authors, and of course, it had to be Sasha. Kate scrolled through her contacts for Sasha’s number. Without taking a minute to calm herself, as she normally would, she punched “call.” It rang once before Sasha picked up.
“Sasha here!” said the chipper voice on the other end of the phone. Kate wished she could reach through the phone and punch her.
“Sasha, you once called me at three a.m. when you got a bad review, and you cried in my ear for twenty minutes. Do you remember that?” Kate was furious, but her voice remained almost frighteningly calm. She gripped the phone so hard, she was pretty sure her knuckles were turning white.
“Uh-huh.”
“That incident pales in comparison to what you’ve done now. I just got off the phone with the New York Times. They are doing an article on fake reviews and discovered that yo
ur page is polluted with five-star fakers.”
Kate could hear Sasha gasp. “No, Kate, really, I promise. These are all just people who love my work!” Sasha’s insistence sounded as “authentic” as her reviews.
“The Times has been investigating this, and you’ve been caught. Now I don’t care what you have to do, but you need to remove those reviews immediately. Do you hear me?”
“I can’t and I won’t!” Sasha said. Kate could almost see her jutting out her chin. Kate was grateful she wasn’t in the same room with Sasha. She would certainly do something that would get her arrested, and she knew she looked terrible in orange.
“You can and you will. Why on earth did you do this?”
She could hear Sasha start to cry, Kate had flashbacks to the night Sasha called her in hysterics because the Times hated her book. Sasha’s breath came out in sobs. “I had to do something. You weren’t doing anything for me. You got me no reviews—well two—but I needed more, and you weren’t helping me.”
Story of her life, Kate thought. Authors telling her, “You’re not doing enough for me.” While some authors were genuinely grateful, many had serious entitlement issues, expecting their publishers to pull out all the stops and forget every other author except for them and their book launches.
“Sasha, I’m not going to sit here and defend the work I did for you, nor will I let you use that as an excuse to do this. It’s completely unethical, and I won’t tolerate it. Neither will your editor.”
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