Mr. Personality (2 page)

For their sakes, as well as for his own, he had to get his shit together and start writing again.

* * *

“Yes, I’m sure it’s not personal,” Nicole responded. “This is about my dad not having to face financial devastation in his declining years. Max Tucker just doesn’t have all the facts.”

“How are you going to convince him of that? Tucker is one of the biggest authors in this decade. I read an article on him in
People
. He’s had bestseller after bestseller. He won a Pulitzer when he was eighteen, for God’s sake. His latest three books have held the New York Times list hostage for months. The man has to be worth millions. People wait in lines to get his books when they first come out. How are you going to get him to ignore your father’s mistake?”

“Dad did plagiarize some of his work, even if we are only talking about a few hundred copies of a ‘business manual’ Dad got my cousin to put on the internet. But we didn’t really get any money out of it and a lawsuit is insane.”

“Your dad can get a lawyer to write him a letter explaining Alton’s situation and promising he’ll desist—“

“I already wrote that letter,” Nicole told her, exasperated. “Remember I showed you their reply? Just more crap about how Dad ‘infringed on Maxwell Tucker’s rights’ and how there has to be some kind of ‘recompense’.”

In the month since the first letter from Tucker’s lawyers, she’d had no luck in making them see reason. Their threats had only escalated.

“Right. Well, the only thing else I can say is--don't buy a handgun. Sometimes you can get too determined.”

* * *

Nicole leaned against Maxwell Tucker’s building as the morning sun rose over the tall, jagged skyline. Even now, heat seemed to rise from the concrete as if the city were a baking stone that held its warmth all night. On the other side of the street, a scruffy-looking guy with cameras festooning his body kept eyeing her.

Trying to look casual while projecting the jaded, confidant attitude of a city dweller, she glanced idly at nothing. With Claire’s stalker-warnings ringing in her ears, she was acutely aware this was the third morning she’d waited outside Tucker’s building. In this big city, however, no one really looked at anyone else. Surely, she wasn’t so conspicuous as to be remembered.

Basically, she was just hoping the doorman didn’t call the cops. If he did, she’d have to use every ounce of her feminine charm to avoid getting hauled away.

The scruffy photographer, still looking her way, crossed the street.

Ignoring him, she hooked her fingers in the belt loops of her pants. This was ridiculous. She was damned tired of sitting out here waiting to pounce on Max Tucker.

Something had to give. She had to
do
something different. One way or the other, she had to convince that man talk to her. Her gut told her he had it in him to be decent when he wanted. The books he wrote had a heart in them. A battered heart, but emotion and pathos.

A small gathering of people outside the building attracted Nicole’s attention. Three women stood waiting as the doorman swept the rug in front of the door.

Without any active plan, Nicole drew closer, barely conscious of the photographer who now stood only an arms length away from her.

“Hey,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you get a picture of Max Tucker when you go in for the job interview.”

“What?” Nicole moved away from him, nearly bumping into one of the women who waited at the doorway.

“During the interview the agency sent you here for. A hundred bucks,” the photographer hissed, holding a tiny camera out for her. “Just snap a few frames when he’s distracted.”

“No.” She turned away from him. The doorman was motioning the women into the building.

It all happened in a blurred moment. Nicole pulling back from the sleazy photographer, the cluster of women moving toward the door.

Realization burst upon her.

The women waiting at the door were here to apply for a job with Max Tucker!

This was it! She could join the group. The photographer had already assumed she was with the others! Her chance to get in again, to see Tucker again and reason with him. If she could just talk to him face-to-face, she could convince him to drop the lawsuit. Hadn’t she talked herself around way worse situations?

Before she knew it, she was inside the building’s foyer, the skulking photographer on the other side of the heavy glass door.

“This way,” the doorman said, motioning the group toward the elevators. “Mr. Tucker’s apartment is on the eighth floor, number eight-zero-four. It’s to the left. He’s expecting you.”

Trailing after the others, Nicole got on the elevator, her exhilaration at having gotten into the building starting to fade. Public people seemed perpetually protective of their privacy and she hated having to invade Max Tucker’s this way. But she had no choice.

No one spoke as the elevator rose, the silence awkward. When the doors opened, they filed out. An older woman led the way, knocking loudly on the apartment door.

Within minutes, they were all inside, shuffling forward in unison as Maxwell Tucker briefly directed them to go in and sit down.

Nicole hunched her shoulders up and stared at the expensive oriental rug on the floor of his living room. Trying to keep behind the other job applicants, she shuffled further into the room and chose the seat most likely to be out of Tucker’s field of vision.

How exactly was she going to handle this? Should she wait until he finished interviewing the others and then just blurt out who she was? Throwing herself on his mercy didn’t sound very appealing…or effective.

Her stomach knotted itself around her breakfast and the word, “fool” kept flashing in front of her eyes. Yes, she’d gotten into the building, but how likely was Maxwell Tucker to listen to her when she was here under false pretenses? He’d be more likely than ever to call the police and have her carted away.

This was worse than facing a new group of surly high school students on the first day of school. Not
that
much worse, but still not fun.

In an effort to distract herself from the idiocy she’d just demonstrated by sneaking in, she covertly looked around. With Maxwell Tucker still out in the hallway talking to one of the three real job applicants, she had plenty of time to examine the room.

She’d never seen the inside of a New York upscale apartment outside of magazine spreads, but this one looked more formal than she’d expected. Stiff, plush upholstered chairs in mostly neutral colors sat at precise angles to bleached antique pieces. Here and there, gold, ornamental chairs were placed along with gold and black striped ottomans. It was a room straight out of those decorating magazine, all pretentious and fake-y. Did people really live in rooms like this?

The muscles at the back of her neck were starting to ache and she carefully unclenched her hands from around the chair’s arms. God, she wished she weren’t here. How could she have done such a crazy thing? Her fellow teachers back at Samson High School wouldn’t believe she could be this impulsive.

Damn, she prayed.
Don’t let me make things worse.
At that moment, she’d have preferred to be anywhere but here, but she couldn’t walk out without drawing attention to herself—the very thing she had to avoid.

“Yes, go on in and sit down with the others.” Max Tucker’s voice grew clearer as he followed the last job applicant into the room.

This was it, Nicole promised herself. No more lurking, no more waiting. When she got out of this insane situation, she’d go home…even if she had no chance to again convince Max Tucker to leave her father alone. This was so not her thing, doing a crazy stunt like this. Until now she’d been very straight-forward in trying to get him to listen.

Yes, she’d talked herself around situations! But those situations typically involved belligerent fifteen year-olds! Of course a teen with a knife could be an ugly thing, but still….

Please, please, please, don’t notice me!
She shifted nervously.

Maxwell Tucker stood a few feet inside the door, his face no more inviting than the first time she’d seen him when she’d lurked outside the building. In black jeans and a thin knit sweater, he was more formally attired this time, though. The sleeves of his sweater pushed up over strong forearms, he stood surveying the applicants. Thankfully, only the edge of his gaze touched her.

He looked more annoyed than she would have expected from a man with so many blessings. In addition to his wealth and skill, he was blessed with a tall, fit body and thick, dark hair, cut close. He was a good-looking man, but his dark eyes held no satisfaction with much of anything at this moment.

He couldn’t be all bad. Not the man who’d written such incredible prose. He must have been having a bad day.

The man could sneer all he wanted, but he had to drop the lawsuit against her dad. One way or the other, she was getting him to listen to her long enough to realize that. She wasn’t going home without the signed release Claire suggested she get.

Mouth firm, Max Tucker held their attention for several long minutes before finally speaking. “Did the agency tell you all what this job entails?”

From where she sat, Nicole could see the other three women easily. Their ages ranged from twenty-two or three to somewhere in the mid-forties. Everything from “comfortable” to “sleek”. The thin, redhead on the far side of the room looked both self-assured and self-aware. For some reason, Nicole wondered if she were an actress seeking to avoid a waitressing job.

“The employment agency was very specific about the work,” an older woman said, a smile stretching her mouth wide. “I’m sure we all understand.”

The third woman nodded eagerly, but the actress-redhead just stared at Max Tucker with what Nicole was coming to recognize as a common New Yorker confidence tinged with contempt.

Max scanned them again, his glance thankfully not lingering on Nicole. For some reason, he seemed both bored and dismissive. “We’ll leave your ability to understand unchallenged for the moment. First, there are several items about the work environment you must know. I both live and work here in this co-op. You, however, if I decide to hire you, will confine yourself to your work area. No wandering around, if you please.”

By the very coolness of his tone, he seemed to convey their insignificance to him. His gaze skated over them as if he could barely be bothered to acknowledge their existence. If this was how he treated his assistants, it was no wonder the other woman left.

He went on. “No personal calls, no complaining about the working hours and, preferably, no personal conversations. I have a deadline to meet. You owe me no information about your lives and you can have little interest in mine. We’re here to work from open to close.”

At this, even the older applicant looked startled, glancing over at the non-actress, who had gone from dismayed to obviously distressed.

Forgetting to keep her head down, Nicole glared at the back of his head. Sixteen hour days? The man was insane.

No wonder his last secretary had quit. This guy expected way too much.

CHAPTER TWO

On the far side of the room, the actress got up. “I think I’ll be going, thanks. I have other priorities besides this job.”

“Then you’re not the one for the job.” He sounded almost cordial as he stepped aside to allow her to proceed him out of the room.

They left a stricken silence behind as he let her out of the apartment. The younger woman looked scared and both applicants seemed seriously doubtful about a job that would take over their lives.

While Nicole couldn’t help disapproving of the actress’ disregard for job-seeking etiquette—you didn’t just get up and walk out of an interview!—she still understood the woman’s assessment of the job. Most people wouldn’t submit to those working hours.

No wonder he had staff problems. The man’s people skills were abysmal.

Shifting in her chair, she heard Maxwell Tucker’s footsteps as he crossed the hall, returning to the room. Even though she sat to the side, her head down, she still couldn’t believe her good fortune in that he hadn’t noticed anything about her that made her seem unlike the other applicants.

Max Tucker closed the door and turned to face the remaining applicants. “If anyone else doesn’t feel like working for the exorbitant salary I’m offering, you may leave as well.”

Did the man always use this cool sarcastic tone, Nicole wondered resentfully. She wasn’t looking for a job, but even if she were unemployed, she wouldn’t tolerate this. Unfortunately, he was in a position to make life difficult for her father. She
had
to deal with him.