“Hi. I’m calling from Morris and Dean Publishing. My name is Kate Mitchell. I’m wondering if I can speak to the manager.”
“I’m the manager,” the young, female voice replied. “My name is Linda.”
“Linda, listen, I’m working on a story that should bring some national attention to your storage facility there, but I need your help. A camera man is going to show up there. He works for the Wall Street Journal, and he’s going to want to take some photographs of the storage shed. Can you make sure he gets access to it?”
“Wow, the Wall Street Journal. Really? My daddy reads that paper every day.”
A fan. What a lucky break. “That’s great,” Kate smiled through the phone. “Well, you can tell him that he may be in the Journal tomorrow if he’s there when the photographer arrives.”
“Really? He’ll be so thrilled. So is that all you need me to do?”
Kate paused. “Yes, but just one more thing. Don’t let any other photographers near that place, okay? Otherwise the Journal will cancel the story.” That was a lie, but Kate was desperate, and Henry would be grateful they’d scooped the story.
“Oh, good thing you called. Someone was just here wanting access. I told him he had to wait until I could verify where he was from.”
Timing is everything, she thought. “Good thinking, Linda. Now, the Journal photographer should be there within the half hour, and I’ll make sure you get plenty of copies for your father. Sound good?”
“Thank you so much, Miss Mitchell. I really appreciate it.”
“Call me Kate, and let me give you my number in case you need to reach me.” Kate rattled off her cell phone.
“Okay, I got it. Thanks so much.”
“No, thank you. This is going to be a great story.”
“Kate, can I ask you one question?”
“Sure, anything.”
“Why did he do it? Buy his own books, I mean?”
“Desperation can make people do funny things, Linda. So can the need to be famous.”
“I’ve never wanted to be famous.”
Kate smiled, “Good for you. Fame isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
A cooler than normal spring gave way to a pre-summer that quickly turned warm. Summers in New York weren’t pleasant. Often the days were sticky and hot. If the city was lucky, a thunderstorm would slide in after sunset, cutting the heat and offering at least some relief. Most of the city emptied out during August, because of all the summer months, August was often the most unbearable.
It was only mid-May, and already summer was showing that it would be hotter than normal. Kate had been nose-down in the release of The Continued Promise. Despite her initial misgivings, they’d seen huge pick up for the title. Barnes & Noble had ordered nearly ten thousand copies, which was huge considering the hit bookstores had taken in recent years. Bloggers were eating up the galleys. And, after shipping nearly two hundred advanced review requests, Kate had run out of books. Lulu had been a tremendous help, and Pete, who had wanted to insert himself into this promotion as well, had given her a wide berth since the Master Woo title.
Kate’s phone beeped—a text from Andrew Trapp. Their meeting had blossomed into a nice friendship, and she was really looking forward to his book release in the fall.
You staying out of trouble?
Well, I haven’t killed an author yet today, if that’s what you mean, she wrote back.
The day isn’t over yet.
Kate chuckled. There were some authors, like Janet Easter, that Kate knew she’d always be close to. She decided that Andrew would be another one of those authors, and when he finally got out of his “agreement,” she was looking forward to going to his wedding.
Another text message. But seriously, just wanted you to know that James and I are thinking of you. I know this is a big time for you. XO
Kate smiled; indeed it was a big week, or a big two weeks. June 1 was the release of The Continued Promise. The author, Michael Singer, was due in town in two days. Mac was more antsy than usual, but Kate knew why. After the Skinny Saundra book tanked, Mac needed a hit—a big one. None of his books had done well that year, and despite Edward’s encouragement to get more sex titles, every submission they’d gotten had been a rehashing of Fifty Shades.
…
Kate walked into Chelsea Market, which was a lovely, quaint, indoor shopping center. Formerly a large bakery, the area had converted and now boasted several shops and restaurants. Mac asked Kate to meet him at The Green Table. They didn’t eat out as often as they used to. Gradually, they were settling into a routine of making dinner, talking about their day, and making love. It was a routine Kate was beginning to cherish.
Kate entered the restaurant and Mac waved her over.
“You look amazing.” He smiled.
“You’ve already seen me today, Mac. I didn’t change.”
“That was work-Kate. She’s also stunning.” His eyes flirted with her. Kate felt herself start to melt under his gaze. Eat first, she thought to herself.
Kate picked up her menu. “We’re nearly there, Mac, the home stretch. I think I’ll need a vacation after this is over.”
“Me, too. I hope to God this book pulls the way we expect it will.”
Kate went to reach for Mac’s hand, and then pulled back. They were in New York; this wasn’t Whistler where no one knew them. Mac was so distracted he didn’t even pull away. Kate frowned; she let the oddity of it slip past her.
“It’ll be fine, really. He’s booked on endless shows, and Publishers Weekly gave him a five-star review.”
Mac nodded. Kate noticed that Mac seemed nervous.
She leaned into him and in a soft voice said, “Mac, it’s really going to be okay. I promise you. I’ll do everything in my power to make this title a success for all of us.” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “Listen, I know it’s hard with the Saundra mess and all. But once this book hits, Saundra’s book will be a forgotten title.”
“It was a huge hole in our January list; Edward is still on me about it.”
Kate rolled her eyes. God she hated that man. “Mac, what’s up with you? You never let Edward get to you. Besides, the man holds onto everything. He’s still harping on Rebecca about a title she had two years ago.”
Mac smiled. He remembered the author who was bipolar and decided that book launch time was the perfect time to go off of his meds.
“Bad books haunt us, Katie.”
“I know, but Singer has pulled this off. The book is truly good.”
Mac’s eyes softened, but Kate could still see a threat of anxiety around him. This was not like Mac. He was always the calm one. Kate remembered the day of The Criminal Pursuit: The Show, the Women, the Legend book signing, when one of MD’s most inept editors—Bernard—didn’t order enough books. Mac had come sweeping in, books in hand to save the day. He’d never looked ruffled, not even once.
“You’re right, Kate.” He smiled. “It’s funny, right? You were so nervous about Singer, now I’m the one…”
She frowned. “You’re nervous about Singer now?”
Mac quickly corrected himself. “No-no not at all.”
Somehow, Kate didn’t believe him. There was something amiss with Mac tonight, though she was hard-pressed to figure out what. Finally, she just chalked it up to nerves and let it go. But the thread of it still bothered her, even as they went back to his apartment and made love.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You want to go in together, Mac?” Kate asked, tugging her skirt up. It was another warm, pre-summer day. Mac’s apartment was bright and cool; she loved staying here and waking up next to him. He was in the bathroom, getting ready for work. His phone buzzed on the counter.
“Hang on,” he said, picking it up. “It’s from Daniel,” Mac lied. “He needs me to call him. You go ahead in. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Big day,” Kate smiled. “You ready for it?”
Mac walked out and kissed her; Kate noticed he seemed oddly distracted. In fact, Kate thought, he has been this way for weeks.
…
Michael Singer arrived at MD bright and early. By the time Kate entered the building, he was there waiting in the lobby.
A broad smile filled his face, “Kate! It’s good to see you again. So, here we are, yes?”
Kate returned his smile and extended her hand. “Michael, nice to see you again. Yes, it’s here. We’re all very excited. Why don’t you come with me? I’ve got an outline and some updates I want to share with you. Mac should be here shortly.”
She escorted her author to the big conference room, where she knew Edward would soon be joining them. The meeting was going to cover the rollout and schedule, as well as Singer’s book events, which were numerous. After that, Edward was taking the team to lunch, which included Singer. Edward had been almost dancing on air in the last few weeks. He was so happy it almost turned Kate’s stomach.
…
As soon as Kate left his apartment, Mac picked up his cell phone and dialed a number. It wasn’t his son.
“Ed, it’s Mac.”
“Yes, Mac,” Edward said, clearly impatient.
“I can’t do this. We need to tell her.”
“MacDermott, we need to proceed as we planned. It will all work out. Kate doesn’t need to know. Besides, you and I both know that we need this title to do well, don’t we?” Edward’s voice seeped with sarcasm. Mac wanted to punch him. Instead, he just hung up and headed to the office to meet with Singer.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The bar was packed with people. The conversation floated like a hum through the Fat Cat, where Kate had asked Grace to meet her to celebrate the launch of her latest book. Thankfully, this time the launch had gone off without a hitch. TVs played over the bar, but Kate hardly noticed them. She sipped her drink. She’d done it; she’d pulled this off. Kate could feel herself beaming. After all these years in book publicity, she always felt a surge of pride when an author’s book launch went off flawlessly.
Grace nudged her friend. “Kate, I didn’t know that Singer was supposed to be on Nancy Grace. Is that a good thing?”
Kate spun in her stool to face the television that hung precariously in the corner of the bar; she was just in time to see the crawl at the bottom. Someone had been arrested.
Oh, God. It was her author. It was Singer. The crawl read: Bestselling author Michael Singer accused of selling children into child sex ring.
“Turn it up!” Hearing Kate’s panic, the bartender punched a button on the remote. The voices on the screen grew louder.
“So as it turns out,” Nancy Grace began in her distinct Southern drawl, “Michael Singer has been doing something not good. In fact, it’s downright disgusting. When I tell the whole story, you’ll agree that anything related to this guy, including his book, should be banned.” Kate thought she was going to faint. Nancy continued, “Selling children into a life of pornography. The Feds raided his Seattle offices and found evidence of this on the computer systems. Singer, as you know, just released the mega-bestselling title: The Continued Promise. Well, I can promise you this, if he’s convicted, he’ll go to prison for a good long time. I hope anyone who bought a copy of that book will take it back to the bookstore in protest. We cannot support anyone who does this!” Nancy Grace continued, but Kate stopped listening.
Kate felt lightheaded and nearly slipped off of her barstool. Grace steadied her.
“I take it you didn’t know about this?” she asked quietly.
Kate didn’t respond. She dug for her iPhone, which was vibrating out of control in her purse. It continued to buzz in her hand as she glanced at the screen. Messages were flooding in—show cancelations, event cancelations. Word of this incident and Singer’s possible involvement in this was spreading faster than she could have anticipated. Damage control, she thought to herself. She needed damage control. But how do you control this? The thought of what Singer might be doing sickened her. If she had known, she would have never been a part of this. Not ever.
Kate pounded the redial button. Mac, of course, the last person she’d called. She turned her head, trying not to look at the flash of pictures of Singer being carted away in handcuffs. The Feds had pulled a hood over his head and he looked even more sinister.
Mac’s number rang. No answer. Voicemail. All she said was, “Mac, call me. It’s extremely urgent.” Next, she tried his apartment. Still nothing. She sent him an urgent text message and waited an interminable five minutes for him to respond. When he didn’t, she realized she couldn’t stay in the bar; the sounds of laugher and conversation had started to grate on her.
“Grace, I have to get out of here.” She slid off the barstool, not waiting for Grace to respond.
Kate wove in a daze through the bar, ignoring the smiling faces. She was fixated on her phone. The night air still warm and sticky, the streets teeming with pedestrians. She tried calling Mac again. Nothing. Finally, a text message popped up. Let’s meet at your apartment.
Kate grabbed the first cab she could and was home in ten minutes. By the time she got there and flipped on the TV, every major news station was covering the story.
It was, by all accounts, an unmitigated disaster.
A knock. “It’s Mac,” he said, and then slipped his key into the lock. She was standing in front of her small TV, remote in hand, flipping through news stations that were all showing the same footage Nancy Grace had: Hooded author, disgraced.
Mac walked inside and she threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Mac, this is horrible. What are we going to do?” Mac wrapped his arms around her but didn’t say a word. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. “I’m so sorry, Kate.”
Kate? Mac rarely called her Kate in private. A nervous coil of something curled inside her. She looked up. “Sorry, for what? This isn’t your fault.”
Mac could only look at her.
“Mac, say something. What’s going on here?”
He walked around the room, his hands deep in the pockets. He didn’t bother to sit down; it wasn’t likely he would be staying long anyway.
“Mac, please.” Kate heard herself begging now. For the second time tonight, she didn’t recognize her own voice.
Mac slid into one of her chairs looking deflated and defeated. Kate walked over to him and was just about to kiss him when he said, “Kate, listen, we can fix this.”
“Fix this? Are you freaking kidding me? He is selling children into the sex market; there is no recovering from this. It’s not like he’s some petty thief, for Christ’s sake, Mac.”
“No, I don’t mean the book. I mean us.”
Kate was confused. They were fine. Well, as fine as they could be considering one of them was married. That’s when it hit her. She felt her body go cold. She moved away from where Mac was sitting. His eyes were on her.
He knew she knew. She’d finally gotten it. What he did, or rather, what he didn’t do.
“You knew,” she whispered hoarsely.
Mac nodded. “I did know he had done something, but I didn’t know it was this; I swear. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you.”
“Couldn’t or wouldn’t? There’s a difference, Mac.”
“I couldn’t, Edward—”
“Fuck, you’re kidding me! Edward knew too? Were you two in a conspiracy to let this guy keep his book while he was doing God knows what to children?”
“Katie, listen—” Mac was up from his seat, walking over to Kate. He reached for her. She pulled away.
“Don’t touch me!” She felt tears streaming down her face. “How could you? How could you know and not tell me?”
“We were hoping—”
“What? That he wouldn’t get caught? That the book would be safe from all of this scandal? And then the children. What about these kids?”
Kate couldn’t breathe. There was no air in the room, and every bit of oxygen was being sucked from her lungs. The r
oom seemed to spin. She could hear Mac’s voice somewhere off in the distance, “Kate, we needed this to work. We needed this book to work.”
Kate felt her heart crumble in her chest. She was in love with a man who allowed this to go on for longer than it needed to. Even an hour was too much.
“You set me up. You and Edward set me up,” she sobbed. “I could have done damage control for the company. We could have figured this out. Instead, you assholes rolled the dice that the creep wouldn’t be found out before the book launched.”
“Kate, the Feds came to Edward and asked him not to say anything. They needed to trap Singer to get him. They needed our help. Our hands were tied. I swear to God I did not know what Singer was being accused of.”
His explanation was coming out in fragments, he knew. “Ed told me only that Singer was being investigated. Hell, Kate, I thought it was for fucking tax evasion. I swear to God I had no idea. I couldn’t tell you. I never imagined it would affect the campaign.” That, of course, was only partially true. In his gut, Mac had worried more than he cared to admit.
“That wasn’t up to you to decide!” she yelled, “I am the publicist on this project! You damned well could have told me he was going to go down for something! You should have prepared me! Instead, you were too worried about making your precious sales and needed to buy some time!”
“No, it wasn’t that. I mean, we were asked not to say anything publicly until the authorities could be sure.”
“Publicly,” Kate sneered. Mac walked over to her, putting his hand on her arm. She shrugged him off. “I am not the general public. Now I look like a fucking idiot for booking all these gigs for him and for not being prepared for this. I have a thousand emails from all over the country: canceled interviews, canceled book signings, and canceled book orders. Books are going to come flying back into the warehouse, Mac. If I had known…”
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