Climax: The Publicist, Book Three

by Christina George

  “Let’s just plan on doing it in the fall or something; we’ll pick a date when you’re back tomorrow.”

  Mac hesitated for a moment. “Katie, speaking of that. I think I need to stay through the weekend. I’ll log on and get caught up on email this afternoon, but the boys are a wreck although they’re trying not to show it. I hate the idea of leaving them here. Are you okay with that?”

  What was she going to say? ‘No, Mac, you must leave your dying ex-wife and come home immediately.’

  “Of course, it’s fine.” Kate meant it; still the thought of him in his old house, with his former family, was ever-so-slightly painful.

  Kate needed to change the subject. “Listen, I wanted to tell you that I’m still working on getting that book, the one by Riley O’Connor. I met with her.”

  “You met with the girl? Does she seem normal?”

  “She does, very, in fact. She told me who she is, but I gave my word to her and Jane that I wouldn’t reveal this until and if she signs.”

  “That seems odd, Kate. Is she a celebrity?”

  “No, not at all, but she’s connected to one, sort of.”

  “That’s fine. I mean, I’d like to know but I get it. Keep me posted?”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “How’s the project going?” Mac was referring to the Lavigne Creativity and Reading Center, which had been all Kate’s idea. The center, which was actually a large room in a library Allan used to frequent, would initially roll out in the summer as a place for kids to go and work on their writing, reading, and creativity. Later, Kate hoped the center would become a “thing” that kids could frequent whenever they wanted or needed. She hadn’t told Nick because, well, up until recently they weren’t really speaking. Kate had wanted Lavigne House to mean something more than just books. The project had taken a lot of her time, but she was grateful for dozens of volunteers who had dealt with a lot of the various pieces that Kate would never have had time for. Thankfully they weren’t actually building anything, just converting a room.

  “It’s going great—we’ll have the grand opening soon. I hope you can be there,” Kate added hesitantly. There was no telling now whether or not Mac would be around for it.

  “I won’t miss it, I promise. Babe, I love you. I have to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Sure. Love you, too.” The line went dead and Kate sat for a moment, just staring at her phone. Then she tossed it on the bed, pulled her knees up under her chin, and contemplated how she would spend the weekend alone.

  CHAPTER 20

  At a suitable hour, Kate dialed Andrew to check in with her friend and hash out what was happening.

  “Love, it’s so good to hear from you. What’s new in Kate’s world?” his voice was always chipper, and she loved his British lilt.

  “I’m good, Andrew. Things are good. How’s married life?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She hadn’t known Andrew that long, but still he could see right through her—even if she was thousands of miles away.

  “Mac’s wife is sick,” she caught herself. “I mean, his ex-wife. She has cancer and there’s nothing they can do for her.”

  “Oh, bloody hell. I’m so sorry. How’s Mac doing?”

  “Not well, I think. He’s with her now. He went out there four days ago to get her settled back home, get her nurse set up, and be there for his sons.”

  Andrew was silent for a moment. “How long will he be there?”

  Kate was standing in her kitchen, holding a cup of coffee. This whole thing was tricky. “He said he’ll be there through the weekend.”

  “What’s wrong, Love?”

  Kate hesitated, “I’m just, I don’t know. It’s awkward; she has no one, just her sons, Mac, and her eighty-year-old mother. I don’t blame Mac for staying there and wanting to be with her, but…”

  “It feels like he’s moved back in,” Andrew finished for her.

  Kate nodded and then spoke. “It does. It’s crazy selfish of me, I know. It’s just that we met when he was married, now he’s back there. And I wish I were a bigger person. I’d tell him just to stay with her through this. But, I can’t bring myself to be that generous with him. It has to be tough for him, too.”

  “You can’t compete with cancer wife.” Andrew commented.

  “Andrew! Don’t call her that!” Andrew loved the shock factor, he always had.

  “Whatever, Darling. Look, it’s reasonable for you to be upset about this, both for Mac and his boys, but no one can expect you to be totally selfless. I mean, it’s a slippery slope.”

  “I need to let him have his space with her, but part of me is, well, jealous.”

  “Of what?”

  “She’s had a part of him I’ll never have. They were a family for a long time. She has a connection I just don’t have with him. I still sometimes feel like we’re having an affair.” Kate felt her heart tighten. She hadn’t actually thought of it that way until just this moment.

  She could hear Andrew smile through the phone. “But you’re not. You’re getting married next month!”

  Kate set her cup down. “That’s another thing. We’re not. It’s just not right to force a wedding in the midst of all of this. She’s dying and I want Mac’s sons at our wedding. He will, too, and they are too preoccupied now and have too much going on. So we talked about it this morning and we’ll move it to August or something.”

  “Or something? You need to be firm about this. You do want to marry the bloke, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” the words rushed out, “but I also want to be reasonable and sensitive.”

  “This is a landmine, isn’t it?”

  She sighed, “It is. Oh and speaking of landmines, I ran into Nick the other day.”

  Andrew clucked, “Well, Love, isn’t your life just one big episode of Days of Our Lives? How the hell did you manage to run into Nick?”

  Kate told him the story of her running into him, literally. The stores he was opening, the fact that she looked hideous, and his sister the brilliant author.

  “Well, well, well. You are a little soap opera, aren’t you? Maybe more like Downton Abbey, but without the manservants.”

  Kate traced her finger along the countertop. “I’m such a jackass, Andrew.”

  “Oh dear God. What else did you do? Have sex with Justin Bieber?”

  “I told him I missed him.”

  “Oh, Katharine, my love. Whatever possessed you to say that?”

  “I blurted it out, but I didn’t mean it like I missed him, missed him. I meant as a friend, you know?”

  “I don’t, actually. You told the man that you dumped that you missed him. That’s just not good.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  Kate breathed in deeply and exhaled. “I do, sometimes. I mean, I love Mac. I adore Mac. But Nick was, well, different, you know. We were different. He was such a rock for me.”

  “Your life is wickedly complicated, Love.”

  “I know.”

  “And now you’re publishing his sister’s book. Seems your paths are destined to keep crossing.”

  “She hasn’t signed with us.”

  “She will. When it comes to world class publishers, no one can compete with you.”

  “I love you, Andrew. Thank you for saying that and for being such a good friend.”

  “I love you, too. Go easy on Mac. He loves you, and this is going to be so difficult for him.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Kate spent the weekend doing what she loved most, reading in Central Park. Kate had spent most of her Saturday and Sunday there, carrying a book she was eager to finish. She had also saved a few manuscripts from prospective authors onto her iPad. She also had Vivienne’s book with her, and as she re-read it, she was even more resolved to sign her. But it had been almost a week and she hadn’t heard a peep. The book publication clock was ticking, and she knew that if anything was going to happen, it would need
to happen quickly.

  As she walked to her office on Monday morning, she got a text from Lu.

  Trains into the city backed up. I should get there by 10.

  It was already quarter to eight. Kate always liked getting an early start. Their receptionist was out for a few days, too. So she would be by herself for a good part of the morning. Rebecca was starting on Monday. However, she’d been speaking at a writer’s conference over the weekend. Because she got in late Sunday, Kate suggested she take the day and rest up. Rebecca insisted that she’d be in during the afternoon. Meanwhile, it would just be Kate and, she hoped, Mac. He had sent her a text Sunday night saying he would take an early train.

  Kate slipped the key in the door and, leaving it unlocked, flipped the lights on in reception as well as the rest of the office. Since she’d stopped for coffee and no one else would be coming in for a while, she didn’t bother to make a pot. Instead, she headed straight to her office.

  . . . .

  Vivienne had been up most of the night. Finally she left the apartment at some ungodly hour and headed out to spend some time on her own to think. She left her brother a note, “Back later,” and then headed out onto the streets of a sleepy New York.

  Now she stood on Kate’s block, wandering up and back like some vagrant. Or, worse, a publishing stalker. That’s what she’d reduced herself to: a stalker. She’d almost spent as much time in front of Kate’s office building as she’d spent inside.

  In the past week, she had dutifully made appointments with all of the publishers her agent had presented her with. To her chagrin, Kate had been right. They’d all taken her to lunch, giving her flowery descriptions of what their publishing companies could do for her book. When she asked for some concrete outline and launch dates, she felt that she got a handful of vague promises. Nick had been right. Kate was the best, and now Viv stood outside Kate’s office debating whether to go up unannounced—always a plus when you’re trying to make a good impression—or, like some publishing-stalker maniac, call her from the lobby and inform Kate of her decision.

  “Oh, and guess what? I’m just downstairs so I can easily come up and sign the contract.”

  Convenient.

  Stalker.

  It was nearly nine a.m. as Vivienne continued to pace up and down the street. When she neared the door to Kate’s office building, a black sedan caught her eye. It came to a smooth stop in front of the building. A driver scurried around and opened the door. When the passenger emerged, Vivienne got a sudden twist in her stomach. The man got out, nodded to the driver, and went into the building. There was something about him that Vivienne couldn’t shake.

  Something not good. She could see that he stopped to talk to the doorman, throwing him a broad smile. A smile that almost made her lose the croissant she’d stuffed down earlier that morning. Then he vanished into the building, and Vivienne, relieved he was out of her sight, continued her pacing.

  . . . .

  Kate flipped on her computer and started sifting through email. She had a new rule: No business email on the weekend, but that was proving to be tougher than she’d thought. Her inbox was busting at the seams. She forwarded a dozen or so to Lulu.

  “Sorry, Lu,” she said quietly as she hit the send button over and over again. Kate was so immersed in her work she didn’t hear the man come into her office.

  “Hello, Kate.” A tall man stood in the doorway to her office. He was dressed in a suit that looked worn. Kate could see a slight fray on the edging of his jacket. His presence in her office felt odd, almost menacing. Kate mentally cycled through her day. Had Lulu put an early appointment on her calendar? The man stood there, staring at her, not smiling. A chill ran up her spine.

  “I’m sorry,” she stood up from her chair, “do we have an appointment?”

  The man stepped inside, and Kate saw him pull something shiny out of his pocket. It was a small handgun.

  Kate grabbed the edge of her desk to stop her hands from shaking. Her heart slammed in her chest.

  “Who are you?” she managed.

  “You rejected me,” he said. His voice was hard, almost bitter. “The publicist rejected me.” The gun was still at his side. Kate felt her something in her stomach, hot and slick, then a twist. She didn’t recognize him at all, but then her publishing house saw and, sadly, rejected a lot of manuscripts for a variety of reasons.

  The man stood there, his eyes boring into her.

  Kate sucked in a deep breath trying to slow her heart. Calm down, she thought.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, remembering a book she’d once worked with written by a former CIA agent. He talked about how in a crisis or hostage situation it was important to try and make a connection with the perpetrator. Then, she immediately thought, That was a mistake. If the author was upset that he was rejected, he’d be even more pissed off that she didn’t know him.

  Sure enough he stuck his hand out, pointing the gun at her, and Kate’s hands flew up.

  “See? You heartless bitch. You don’t even know me!” His voice took on a high-pitched sound and he took his hand, the one holding the gun, and shoved a stack of papers off of her desk. They scattered to the ground and Kate jumped.

  She realized she was alone and probably would be for another hour if not more. Her heart twisted in fear.

  “I-I’m sorry,” the words stumbled out of her mouth. “I’m sorry that I don’t know you. That’s terribly impolite of me.”

  “Your damned right it is!” his hand was shaking.

  “L-let me read it now. Do you have it with you?”

  His face softened for a moment. “You, you want to read it now? Are you just trying to trick me?” His voice rose at the last part.

  Kate shook her head. “No, no, I’m not, but please tell me your name.”

  His arm dropped to his side and Kate dropped her hands as well. He reached in his pocket and retrieved a USB drive and handed it to her.

  “Don’t you try anything funny like calling the cops or I’ll shoot you.” He shook the gun for effect. Kate took the drive from him.

  “I’m just going to turn on my computer and pop this in, okay?” He nodded in response. Kate sat down. Her mind was firing in a million directions. If she could keep the man here long enough, maybe Lulu or Rebecca would arrive and call the police.

  . . . .

  Vivienne’s heart was in her throat. She’d finally gotten the courage to go upstairs. When she arrived at the office and saw that no one was at the front desk, she walked in and followed the sound of the voices, only to find that man she’d seen on the street talking to Kate. When she saw the flash of the gun and saw Kate’s hands in the air, she froze for a moment. Her heart jackhammered in her chest. She wondered for a moment if she’d seen that wrong. Another glance into Kate’s office told her she hadn’t. At first, Vivienne wasn’t sure what to do.

  Breathe, she told herself. Then, she quietly stepped back into the lobby to dial 9-1-1. Nick had once told her about the crazy stuff Kate had to deal with, but a man with a gun was beyond crazy.

  After she called emergency, Vivienne circled back into the office, staying well out of sight of the man with the gun. She knew it might be safer to go downstairs, but she couldn’t leave Kate alone.

  Kate opened up the manuscript and began reading, totally unaware that Vivienne was there. She remembered the book now, because the submission had come directly to her as opposed through the general submissions email that was on their website. At the time she’d skimmed it, decided it was not right for them, and asked Lulu to send the writer a “thanks but no thanks” rejection email. At the time she hadn’t even given it a second thought.

  He stood staring at her while she read his book. Kate nodded, feigning interest. She noted the name on the manuscript read: Charles.

  “This is really good, Charles,” she lied, and she noticed a flicker of something skip across his face.

  “You mean it?” he asked. The tension in his voice had eased up a bit.<
br />
  Kate nodded and pretended to keep reading, but the words floated on the screen. “Yes, it’s very good.”

  “I just want to be famous,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “I need to be famous. I want to be the next Allan Lavigne.”

  Kate wasn’t sure how long she could keep this up. She felt the bile rise in the back of her throat, and she knew that any minute she’d throw up all over her desk. No doubt he’d think it was related to his book. Kate swallowed hard, pushing it back down her throat.

  Charles stepped further into her office, almost slithering towards her. Kate’s breath came in shallow gasps as she continued to force herself to stare at her screen.

  . . . .

  Vivienne could hear the elevator doors slide open and walked back towards the lobby. A tall, very handsome man emerged. She walked towards him and stopped him before he could go inside. “Don’t go in there,” she said.

  “I’m Mac Ellis,” he said, a bit annoyed. “This is my publishing company. Who are you?”

  Vivienne ignored his question. “There’s a man with a gun inside and Kate’s in there.”

  All the color drained from Mac’s face. “Oh, God, I have to go in there.”

  Vivienne couldn’t stop him, of course—he towered over her—but she had to try.

  “I’ve called the police. They should be here any minute.” As she said the words, the elevator doors slid open again and several police officers emerged.

  “Did someone call 9-1-1 about a hostage situation?”

  “Christ.” Mac jammed his hand through his hair. “My fiancé is in there with this guy? How is that possible?” he turned to Vivienne, his eyes panicked.

  She shrugged, “I don’t know. I just came here to…well, I came to see Kate and I saw the gun.”

  “Just one guy?” one of the officers asked.

  Vivienne nodded. “I didn’t hear all of the conversation, but it seemed to be about a book or a rejection letter or something.”

  “Jesus, these fucking people.” Mac walked towards the door and one of the officers stopped him.