“ID?” the waitress asked, when Sierra ordered.
“It happens all the time.” Sierra removed her ID from her wallet and handed it over. The waitress looked up and down a few times before accepting.
“So today was my last day at work,” Sierra said, taking off her roomy sweater. Underneath she wore a T-shirt that said WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS?—DOROTHY PARKER.
“You were a nanny, right?”
“Yes, to Satan’s offspring. I swear I once saw this kid’s head spin during a tantrum.”
The waitress came over with a bourbon on the rocks for Kyle and a tall beer for Sierra.
“To bigger and better things,” Kyle said, clinking her glass and swallowing half of his drink. “Now you have all the time to write.”
Sierra seemed to shrivel up. “How do you know when you might have writer’s block?”
“What do you mean?” Kyle asked. “You just gave me some amazing pages.”
“But since then I’ve written nothing. And I was working on those pages before I got the deal. Now I sit in front of the screen and want to slit my wrists with a razor blade.”
“Have you outlined the next few chapters?”
“I can’t work like that, I wish I could.” She tapped at her front teeth. “Like the story doesn’t feel real unless it unfolds as I type.”
“But you lived through some of it, didn’t you?”
“Everything I wrote so far, except that’s where the truth ends. Should I not be telling you this?”
“Yeah, the deal is canceled now.”
Her eyes bugged.
“I’m kidding, Sierra,” he said, knocking back the rest of his bourbon and signaling the waitress for another. Usually by his second bourbon, he felt at ease. He figured he’d have his forties to sober up.
“It’s just the pressure,” she said, her fingers tracing over her eyebrows. “I’ve started picking at my eyebrows recently. I’m a mess.”
“You’re a working writer, welcome to the club.”
The waitress brought his bourbon.
“Look, you are brilliant and everyone at Burke & Burke is so excited that you’re part of our team.”
She managed to half smile. “Really?”
“Do you know the kind of publicity you’ve brought us? Do you realize the magnitude of what you’re about to become?”
“I know. That’s what fucking with me.”
Kyle placed his hand on top of hers. She seemed to relax a little.
“I’ll be your cheerleader,” he said. “I played football in high school, and I watched the girls’ pep squad closely.” At this close distance, he could smell her perfume, lush and floral. “Give me an S…”
“Stop,” she said, with her hand over her face.
“Give me an I…”
Sierra finally laughed. “You’re such a goof.”
“And you’re such a wonderful find. Really.”
“Shouldn’t you reserve statements like that for your girlfriend?”
Kyle inched away from her, as if he just realized how close they were sitting.
“Wow, I’m sorry,” Sierra said, hands running through her hair, shaking her head. “Inappropriate, table for one over here. I guess I was just curious if you had a girlfriend … I mean, you must … I mean, how could you not?”
Kyle took a stiff sip. “I do. Her name is Jamie.”
“What does she do?”
“She’s an interior designer.”
“Oh, cool. Yeah, I pictured her being creative … I mean, I never really pictured her, it’s just … I’m sure you’d be into creative girls ’cause you’re so creative.” She lunged for the beer and saved herself by taking a long foamy swig. “Does she work for a company or on her own?”
“She’s starting her own business and just rented an office that faces the Astor Place cube. She says it inspires her.”
Talking about Jamie reminded Kyle that he needed to call her when he got home. They hadn’t spoken all day since their minifight, not abnormal, but usually one of them checked in with the other.
“I’m not seeing anyone now,” Sierra said. “There was a guy when I first moved, but he got in the way of my writing, like he devalued it and made me unmotivated.”
“That’s no good.”
“I need another artist or someone creative too. So we can feed off of each other, y’know?”
“Once Girls Without Hope is published, they’ll be lining up.”
“That could be like two years from now.”
“Well, maybe you’re just meant to focus on writing now, to put all that angst on paper.”
He opened his J.W. Hulme executive leather briefcase. He’d purchased it right after Sierra’s deal went through, the first recklessly expensive gift he’d ever given himself. He removed a notepad and pen and jotted YOU ARE ______________________________. He looked up at her and then, in the blank space, he wrote AMAZINGLY AND WILDLY TALENTED. He ripped off the piece of paper and handed it to her.
“Each day I want you to write one great thing about yourself before you begin working,” he said. “If you can’t think of something, e-mail me and I’ll have a spare ready.”
“Thank you, Kyle.” She held the paper close to her chest. “I’m glad I can talk to you about this stuff.”
“Anytime.”
“Enough about me and my neuroses. So is there another great talent you’re about to sign?”
“Yeah, there’s something new I’m digging,” he said, stroking his stubble. “A fantastic new thriller with a lot of potential. It’s about a guy who gets his eye gouged out as a sniper in Iraq. He winds up working for a hit man organization until he decides to leave and is hunted down by them.”
“You’re a modern-day Max Perkins.”
“That’s the plan.” Kyle finished his drink and gestured to the waitress for the bill. “Shall we?” He paid and they both stood. “I hope you feel better about your book.”
“I do,” Sierra said. “Good pep talk, head cheerleader.”
Kyle put his arm around her in a friendly way as the two walked past William. If they’d been paying better attention, they would’ve seen the man in the Yankees cap digging his nails into the wooden table with such force that his fingers were bleeding.
8
WILLIAM WOKE UP especially early the next morning. It was still dark outside when he drove down to the city, and he made it in record time without any traffic. He put the car in a garage and positioned himself at the Astor Place cube, facing west toward the two buildings that looked like possible offices. The sun rose, NYU students milled about, and he kept his eyes on the nearby subway station, munching on an egg and cheese sandwich he’d picked up at a nearby deli. He wore gloves since his fingers hadn’t healed from scratching into the wooden table at the bar the night before. The conversation he’d overheard between Kyle and Sierra had proved that Kyle had no interest in Devil’s Hopyard. When Sierra asked Kyle if he was excited about any new authors, Kyle spoke of an asinine novel about an ex-sniper who becomes a hit man. Sure, it had the possibility of being adapted into a film that would probably mint money, but what about books that had meaning, like William’s? Books that would inspire. Books that would be remembered.
After an hour of silent patience, Jamie popped up out of the train station. She was typing on her phone and looking a little frazzled. Her blond hair had been thrown into a ponytail and she wore sweats and sneakers, apparently coming from the gym. In her other hand were a pair of high heels and a dry cleaning bag. He swallowed his last bite of egg and made his move.
* * *
JAMIE WAS TYPING an e-mail to her possible investor, Elka, and hesitated. She hated the notion of business e-mails, since they could show every misspelled word or wrong turn of phrase until the end of time. She needed to explain to Elka about the style of the model room she was showcasing in her office. She had crafted the e-mail last night and spent the train ride editing. Finally, she hit Send.
“Jamie?”
>
The voice seemed to come from inside her head, as if it was double-checking to make sure she described the colorful archival-based patterns conveying the legacy of iconic French design in the right way.
“Jamie, right?”
She practically ran into the man in front of her and slowed so as not to collide. One high heel slipped from her finger and fell to the sidewalk. The man bent down and held it up for her.
“You dropped this,” he said. He had tired eyes, well-groomed hair, and jowls that made his smile appear as a sad affair. “It’s William.”
She’d been so absorbed in the e-mail that she would’ve walked right by her own mother.
“Oh, William,” she said, accepting the high heel. “Hi!”
He went in for a quick hug. She patted his back with the hand holding the dry cleaning bag.
“I didn’t even see you,” she said. “I always seem to have my blinders on when I’m out in the city.”
“I’m the opposite,” William said, steering her away from a swarm of people coming up the stairs. “I’m so rarely here that I must look like a wide-eyed tourist.”
“No, not at all,” she said, and glanced toward her office building as if it was calling her. “What are you doing in town?”
“I have a meeting in the Village this afternoon and thought I’d get in a little early.”
“It was really great to meet you the other night,” she said, making a move toward Starbucks.
He followed her lead. “Yes, I agree. I was about to get a coffee as well.”
“Is it terrible that I basically need it to open my eyes?”
“My wife has tried a coffee intervention on me with little success.”
They entered the Starbucks, already busy at this early hour. She saw him scanning for seats.
“Students stake their claim by sunup at this one,” Jamie said, heading toward the line. “I usually get mine to go.”
“Busy day?”
“Yes, I’m getting a showroom ready for a possible investor coming in from Sweden.”
“Grattis,” he said, winking.
“You know Swedish?”
“I’m a lover of all languages, meaning I know at least five words or phrases in most.”
They reached the front of the line.
“I’ll have an iced caffè latte,” Jamie told the barista.
“I’ll have the same,” William said, taking out his Starbucks card. “It’s on me. To thank you for the lovely dinner.”
“I accept.”
While waiting for their coffees, Jamie observed how attractive she found William, in a fatherly way, of course. She often noticed guys on the street who were almost twice her age and knew the psychological reasons why. In fact, Kyle was the youngest guy she’d ever seriously dated, and she wondered if Kyle’s lack of maturity was the main cause of the friction between them. She knew he couldn’t help his age and it was unfair to expect him to behave like someone much older, but she often found herself dreaming about them twenty or thirty years from now and how he would look and act. She liked having this fantasy.
“You seem to be in deep thought,” William said. Their lattes waited on the counter and he handed hers over.
“Would you like to see my showroom?” Jamie asked, the words flowing from her mouth before she could take them back.
“Efter dig,” he said. “Lead the way.”
* * *
ENTERING HER SHOWROOM/OFFICE, Jamie regretted inviting William. First off, no one else had seen the room yet and she didn’t know if it was ready. Second, she realized she invited him as a way to make Kyle jealous and instantly felt shitty. Kyle had left her a genuine—albeit drunken—message of apologies, to which she responded with a brief text saying that she’d come over the next night to discuss things. She realized their fight had started because he’d been so adamant about his displeasure with William’s manuscript. She chalked that up to simple envy. Here William had gone ahead and created five hundred pages of an actual book while Kyle had never come close to finishing one of his own projects. Even though he was achieving a lot of success as an editor, she knew that part of him probably wanted adulation as a writer too. She felt he deserved to know that she’d still be kind to William no matter what. She’d behave exactly how she wanted to without needing Kyle’s approval.
As William stepped inside, Jamie was nervous to see how he’d initially respond to her work and was delighted to see his eyes go wide. The style she was going for was classic and subdued, not out of place in an elegant château.
“I feel like I stepped into Paris,” he said.
She couldn’t mask her grin. “Good, oh good. That’s what I was hoping.”
He ran a finger across a nineteenth-century desk that she had restained. “You’re very talented.”
“It’s not like I wrote a novel.”
“That’s just manipulating words in the right way.” William stood at the window and watched two skateboarders rolling around the Astor Place cube.
“It’s very impressive nonetheless,” she said.
“Kyle doesn’t think so.”
He looked less attractive to her when he said this, as if all the handsome parts of his face had turned against each other. His hair seemed finer and more unruly, white as opposed to silver, and his mouth sloped into a frown that made him appear older and forlorn.
“I don’t think Kyle hates your book,” she said, stepping closer to place a friendly hand on his shoulder.
“He’s definitely not impressed.”
“Did he tell you that?”
William gave a solitary nod, which upset her. Kyle was always brutally honest, a quality that obviously made him successful but how difficult would it have been to say some nice things about William’s manuscript, just to give the guy some hope? After all that William had done for Kyle back at college—which she’d probably never know the extent of—would it have killed him to think of someone else’s feelings more than his own personal drive? Just because William’s novel wasn’t at the level Burke & Burke published, it still had to have some value and could certainly be improved. Jamie decided then that she’d make sure Kyle gave Devil’s Hopyard a fair shot and would urge him to do anything in his power to nurture its success.
“Kyle isn’t always the easiest person to get along with,” she said.
William gave a solitary laugh, which said, Tell me about it.
“The two of us got into it the other night,” Jamie said. “Even though he was in the wrong, I’m trying to give him some slack because of these intense few weeks at work.”
“He was having cozy drinks last night at a bar with his author. The young girl.”
“Sierra? What do you mean, cozy drinks?”
“I passed by and the two were sitting in a booth side by side. They just seemed to be enjoying each other’s company.”
Jamie pretended not to hear this. She had a busy day planned and knew that the minute any kind of suspicions entered her mind they would fester and spread.
“You don’t know what I did for that kid back in school,” William said.
“He knows, trust me, William. He told me all about it.”
“They were ready to expel him, and I went to bat—”
“Expel him over what?”
“I guess he hasn’t told you everything.”
“If he didn’t tell me, then he probably wasn’t ready to yet,” Jamie said, trying to be diplomatic despite being curious as hell.
“He got caught selling drugs and not just college kid drugs, bad shit that he was hooked on too.”
“Oh.”
“Want to know more?” William asked, facing her. She hadn’t noticed how red one of his eyes was, and she couldn’t help staring. He cupped a palm over it. “It’s from not sleeping.”
“What else was Kyle involved in?” Jamie hated herself for probing, but she was also a tad hurt that her boyfriend hadn’t been as forthcoming about his past as she’d thought.
“N
o, it’s really not my place to say.”
Jamie waved her hands in front of her face. “You’re right, don’t tell me. I can’t believe I asked. I would never want to be in a relationship that wasn’t based on trust.”
“He’s very lucky to have you,” William said, licking his lips. Jamie became lost in the swirl of his tongue before she came back down to earth, as if momentarily hypnotized.
“We’re lucky to have each other,” she stated.
“My wife always says the same thing.”
“I’m going to have a talk with Kyle about your manuscript,” Jamie said.
“Please don’t.”
“No, for whatever reason, he’s not giving you a fair shake, and that’s not right.”
“I don’t want pity.”
“But you deserve respect, and I’ll be sure he understands that.”
William placed his hand over his heart. “Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it.” She glanced at her watch. It was way later than she’d intended to start her day. She made a face and he automatically understood.
“I’ll let you get back to your work,” he said, cupping his red eye again, a source of embarrassment.
“We should have you for dinner again, William. And your wife. I’d love to meet her.”
“It’s a date.”
“And I’m glad you liked the showroom,” she said. “You were the first to see it.”
“I’m honored,” he said, and left her office after saying good-bye. When the door shut, Jamie had the impulse to run outside and probe his mind about Kyle’s mysterious past, but she latched onto the antique desk to keep her in place. She was certain that Kyle would eventually feel close enough to her to reveal those dark secrets. But if that didn’t happen soon, she swore she’d find a way to pull them out of him.
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