I Take This Woman

by Chamein Canton

“We both have subscriptions to the magazine. In fact, Momma gets every bridal magazine I get.”

  “I see.”

  Maria kissed him. “I’ve really got to get going. I’ll see you later. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” Sam waved as he watched her leave. “Guess I’d better put the tea kettle back on.” He sighed as he got out of bed and stretched his six foot, four inch muscular frame.

  After putting on his robe, Sam went into his state of the art kitchen and looked around at the little-used area. “I did say that once I retired I was going to visit more museums. I didn’t realize my kitchen would be the first one.”

  His dreams of pancakes dashed, Sam settled for a bowl of cereal. When he looked at his picture on the box, he laughed. I guess it is the breakfast of champions.

  When the phone rang, he checked the caller ID. It was his agent/manager, Reggie Dawes. Prior to signing with Reggie, Sam had been signed with a large sports management agency. They had assigned two agents to him who had treated him like a prize bull with an I.Q. to match, even though he’d graduated with a 3.45 GPA from the University of Texas with a degree in English. Tired of being “handled”, he’d learned about Reggie from a teammate and switched.

  A former college basketball player, Reggie knew what it meant to be an athlete. Unlike many other agents, he wasn’t all about stats and deals. He treated Sam like a colleague and a friend.

  “Good morning, Reggie.”

  “Hey, Sam. How’s it going?”

  “I can’t complain. I’m just sitting here eating breakfast.”

  “I take that you’re having cereal again” Reggie said “That brown-haired, green-eyed guy who used to be a quarterback still on the box?

  “You got it.” Sam laughed. “I’m still on the box, and I’m still having cereal for breakfast.”

  “Maybe once you put that band on her finger you’ll get your hot breakfast.”

  “That would be nice, but Maria grew up with servants and a chef so it’s more likely that she’ll hire someone to cook once we’re married.”

  “At least you’ll get hot meals,” Reggie said reassuringly.

  “I like your spin on it, Reggie.” Sam laughed. “You’re calling about the manuscript, right?”

  “Yes. I want to know how things are going.”

  “At this point it’s sort of just going,” he said in a dejected tone.

  “That doesn’t sound good. How much have you written?”

  “In total I’d say about forty pages.”

  Reggie gasped. “You need 160 more pages by Memorial Day, and at this rate they need to be print-ready pages.”

  “I know. I’m cutting it close.”

  “Maybe I can get you some help.”

  “You mean a ghostwriter? I told you, Reggie, I want to write the book.”

  “I know you do. I’m not talking about a ghostwriter. I’m talking about someone who can help you with the writing process and give you feedback. You need an editor.”

  “Do you have someone in mind?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ll call her as soon as I hang up with you.”

  “Wait. Aren’t you going to tell me anything about her?”

  “Sure, I’ll tell you about her, but it will have to wait until later. I have to catch her before her day gets started. I’ll stop by your place later on. What’s a good time?”

  “I’m not on wedding duty today so my day is pretty open.”

  “All right then. I’ll see you around three or three-thirty.”

  “Okay.”

  Sam hung up and continued eating, wondering whom Reggie had in mind. Given that it was not yet eight and Reggie thought that whoever she was might already be at work, Sam figured he’d be meeting a real workaholic.

  Chapter 2

  Like a teacher returning graded papers to her class, Abby placed all her corrected query letters, pitches, press releases and synopses on each of her associate’s desks. It was a routine she had grown up with. During the school year, her college professor parents had graded her homework before her teachers did, and in the summer, while other parents planned camping trips and pool parties, Abby’s parents devised a summer curriculum that included a reading list, grammar exercises, history assignments and foreign language lessons. Summers were especially long in the Carey household, but her parents had gotten results. Abby was fluent in five languages.

  After she’d handed out all the corrected query letters, pitches, press releases and synopses, Abby put the coffee on, checked the fax machines and made sure the printers were on and the ink cartridges were full. As she removed the overnight transmissions from the fax machines, her Blackberry rang. She checked the caller ID, then picked up.

  “Good morning to you, Mr. Dawes.”

  “Good morning, Abby. How’s it going?”

  “So far it’s just going. To what do I owe this early call? I didn’t think big-time sports agents had to get up this early.”

  “These days the world of sports is like politics, it streams twenty-four hours a day and you’ve got to stay on top of every development as it happens or you’ll be dust.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir.“ Abby began walking toward her office. “What’s up, Reggie?”

  “I was wondering if you’re free for an early dinner at Le Bernadin tonight.”

  “Abby smiled as she sat down at her desk. “I’m always free for dinner at Le Bernadin.”

  “Great. Shall we meet at the restaurant at six?”

  “Sure. I’ll see you there.” She looked at her watch. “It’s almost time for my staff to get in. We’ll catch up later.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Abby hung up, wondering what Reggie wanted. She tapped her pen on the desk. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  Her office was situated so that she could see everyone as soon as they walked in the door, not that she needed to.

  “Good morning, Shana.”

  “How do you do that? You didn’t even look up to see who it was.”

  “It’s a gift.” Abby chuckled as she glanced up at Shana. “You look nice.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Is that the Tory cinch dress by Kiyonna?”

  “Yes it is.” She grinned.

  “I’m impressed.”

  “Well, you hang around with fashionistas long enough you pick up a few things.”

  Dressed to the nines, Shana Collingsworth stood in Abby’s doorway. A curvy woman with dark wavy tresses and smooth chocolate skin, Shana always had a big smile on her face. She and Abby had met nineteen years earlier when Stillwater signed one of Shana’s clients to do a book on fashion. The two hit it off instantly and became fast friends. Shana had served as bridesmaid at Abby’s wedding and she was Justin’s godmother.

  When they initially formed Carey and Collingsworth, it had seemed odd to combine fashion and book PR. Nevertheless, it worked. Shana, with her innate ability to put clients at ease, was the front-woman. Though Abby behaved well, her directness came in most handy when dealing with unruly clients or sticky financial situations.

  Shana glanced towards the desks in the office. “I see you’ve already handed out your blood-soaked critiques this morning.”

  Abby laughed. “They are not blood-soaked. I just made some corrections.”

  “I’ve seen machetes do less damage,” Shana said. “Speaking of damage, have you spoken to your ex-husband yet?”

  “He called this morning. I told him I already knew about Beebe’s interview and had talked to Justin about it.”

  “What did he have to say for himself?”

  “What could he say? History repeated itself. He cheated on me with Beebe and now he cheated on her.”

  “He cheated on her with a twenty-three-year-old. God, does he realize that this girl is only eight years older than his son?”

  “It’s obvious he’s not thinking.”

  “He’s forty-five years old, too old for this nonsense.”

  �
��Grey hair doesn’t automatically bestow wisdom.”

  Shana thought for a moment. “J.J. has been sporting that clean-shaven look for years; he doesn’t have any grey hair on his head.”

  “That wasn’t the head I was referring to.”

  Both of them cracked up.

  “Woo! Thanks, I needed that. So did he ask you about your love life again?”

  Abby nodded. “He says he asks because of Justin.”

  “I don’t buy that for a minute. J.J. is like every other alpha male who believes he’s marked his territory.”

  “So Justin and I are marked.”

  “Precisely, Did you tell him it was none of his business?”

  “Naturally,” Abby answered.

  “Good. Now all you have to do is get back out there and start dating again.”

  “That’s easier said than done, Shana. Besides, I’m forty-one. It’s not as if I haven’t been on dates.”

  “When was the last time you went on one?”

  Abby stopped to think. “Six months ago.”

  “Try eight months ago.” Shana folded her arms. “And don’t let me get started about the last time you had sex.”

  “Do you have some kind of Abby’s-date-countdown calendar or something?” Abby asked. “Besides, I have had sex. It wasn’t good sex, but it counts.”

  “Are you talking about that investment banker? What was his name?”

  “Quincy.”

  “Was he really that bad?”

  “It wasn’t like watching paint dry. It was more like watching them make paint.”

  “Eww.” Shana made a face. “That’s pretty bad. Still, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get back out there and try again.”

  “I’ll get back out there.”

  “When?”

  “When the right man comes along.”

  “Where are you going to meet him?” Shana paused. “At the rate you’re going, the right man will have to walk into your office.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “Oh, good grief”! You’re too much.” Shana said exasperatedly. She glanced at her watch “We’ll pick this up later. “I have to make some accounts payable calls today.”

  “Let me know if you need any help.”

  “You know I will. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay.”

  Shana turned and walked out.

  A short time later in came senior account executive Kelly Phillips. The petite brunette handled the agency’s publishing company clients. Not far behind her was their graphic designer, Reed Daly, who, at six feet, six inches tall, looked like he belonged on a basketball court. After saying their good mornings they got situated at their desks.

  “Is that coffee I smell?” Kelly asked.

  “Yes. It should be ready by now.” Abby went over to her printer.

  “Great. Come on, Reed.”

  “Time to get our first morning jolt,” Reed added.

  “This is my second jolt,” Kelly said.

  “Really? Too much coffee doesn’t make you jumpy?” Reed asked.

  “Who said I was talking about coffee?”

  Laughing, they headed for the break room.

  Just then senior publicist Leo De Marco breezed into the office. Always impeccably dressed in color combinations that complemented his lean body, dark hair and olive skin, he had his briefcase in one hand and a rather odd green-colored protein shake in the other.

  “Good morning, Abby.” He smiled as he put his things down.

  Abby walked out of her office. “Hey, Leo.”

  Leo was drinking the last of his shake.

  Abby made a face. “I don’t know how you can drink that.”

  “You get used to it, I guess.”

  “Not me. If I want protein in the morning, I’m sticking to egg whites.”

  “There are egg whites in the shake. It also has—”

  Abby cut him off. “Please don’t tell me what it has in it. I’d like to keep my breakfast down.”

  Leo laughed and then glanced at the marked-up papers on everyone’s desk. “I see you’ve been busy.”

  “Note that most of the papers are on Candy’s desk. I only made minor suggestions for the rest of you.”

  “Ah, that reminds me,” he said as he got out his wallet. “We have to get the time pool going this morning.”

  Coffee mugs in hand, Kelly and Reed walked in.

  “If it’s time for the ‘how late will Candy be today’ pool, I’m in. I won last time.” Kelly sat down and got out her purse.

  Abby shook her head. “You guys kill me. There are only three of you in this pool.”

  “You could join us,” Leo added.

  “Thank you, but I’ll pass.”

  “I have $100 that says she’ll be here at 9:30,” Reed said, waving a hundred-dollar bill.

  “Okay.” Leo jotted it down. “What about you, Kelly?”

  “I’m sticking with 9:45. That’s how I got my last pair of Christian Louboutin shoes.”

  “Okay.” Leo wrote in the notepad. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say she’ll get here at 9:25.”

  “You think she’ll get here that early?” Kelly asked, surprised.

  “There’s a first time for everything,” Leo answered as he collected the money from her and Reed.

  “How will we know when she comes in? It’s not like we’re going to stare at the door,” Reed noted.

  “That’s easy. We have our own Peter Parker in Abby. Her Spidey sense will let us know the moment Candy walks in.” Leo smiled.

  “You three are too much.” Abby went over to the copy machine. “Oh, before I forget, I’ll be leaving early today,” Abby said as she pressed the copy button. She turned around to a room full of statues. “What?”

  “You’re leaving early?” Kelly seemed astounded.

  “Yes. You don’t have to look so shocked. I have an early business dinner.”

  “Shoot! I was hoping you were going on a date,” Leo said as he snapped his fingers.

  “Sorry, Leo, no such luck,” Abby said as she picked her copies up. “Okay, folks, let’s get to work. We’ve got authors and books to promote!” She walked back to her office.

  Soon the office was filled with the sounds of publicists working the phones. It was 9:25 and should have been the perfect moment for junior publicist Candace Levy to creep in, since Abby’s chair was facing the window.

  “Good morning, Candy. Nice of you to join us, “Abby called out as she swiveled around in her chair.

  Unlike most twenty-somethings, Candy had money, or at least her parents did. She’d gone to all the right New York City prep schools and had a B.A. in communications from Vassar. Candy didn’t need to work, but the pretty blonde wanted to prove she could make it on her own. However, she was still quite green when it came to public relations and her perennial lateness proved that she didn’t have a head for time in a business where time truly is money.

  “Damn! There’s goes the pair of Louboutins I had my eye on,” Kelly said.

  “I’m sorry. I got off to a late start.”

  “I see,” Abby said as she walked out of her office to Candy’s desk. “You know the PR business is all about timing. We have to be able to jump on opportunities quickly.”

  “I’ll do better.”

  “I hope so. Be sure to check out the notes on your press releases and pitch letters.”

  She walked over to her desk and looked at the papers. “Okay.”

  “I also need you to make a correction on the Mayfair book launch party invitation. You wrote y-o-u-r cordially invited instead of using the contraction for you are. Please change that and get it to the printer ASAP”

  “I will.” Candy sat down and turned on her computer.

  The phone rang and Leo picked up. “Good morning, Carey and Collingsworth Public Relations.” He paused. “Hi, Shana. Yes, she’s right here.” He turned to Abby. “Shana is on the line for you.”

  “Thanks.” Abby picked up the p
hone on Candy’s desk. “What’s up?”

  “These collection calls are killing me.”

  “I’ll be right down.” Abby hung up. “I’ve got to go downstairs for a while. Buzz me if anything’s up.”

  “We sure will.” Kelly smiled.

  As Abby walked away, a relieved look came over Candy’s face.

  “You can breathe now, Candy,” Leo teased.

  Candy shook her head as she looked at the stack of red-inked papers on her desk. “It doesn’t look like I can do anything right.” She held up a press release. “Look at all this red.”

  “They don’t call her the dragon lady for nothing,” Reed said.

  Although they’re housed in the same six story building, the fashion and book floors were completely different. Abby’s book public relations had one floor with one conference room. Her small team essentially performed their functions via phone call or email, whereas Shana had twenty-one people working under her from account executives, fashion show producers, model casters to interns. Fashion was a more fast-paced and competitive business. Though both sides had their share of big egos, the egos in fashion go from the total professional to the completely self-obsessed. Therefore they needed more room to accompany the large heads.

  As Abby walked in to Shana’s office, she heard her on the phone.

  “I’m sorry if you don’t think we delivered what we promised but we did. You had fashion editors from every major publication at your viewing. We can’t help it if some of them had negative things to say about your line. That’s beyond our control.”

  “Put him on hold,” Abby mouthed silently.

  “Hans, can I put you on hold for a minute? Thanks.” She pressed the hold button. “He’s driving me crazy.”

  “Is that Hans Müller?”

  Shana nodded.

  “His show went off without a hitch. What’s his problem?”

  “He’s upset at some of the things the editors wrote about his collection. He expected glowing reviews all around.”

  “Then he’s either in kindergarten or the wrong business. Frankly, it sounds like a little of both.” She paused. “We did his show a month ago, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Give me the phone.”

  Shana handed Abby the phone.

  “Hello, Hans. This is Abigail Carey. What seems to be the problem with paying your invoice?”