The Publicist Book One and Two (8 page)

Chapter Seventeen

When Mac flew, he always flew First Class. This time was no different. Kate marveled at the life Mac must lead. A car for him wherever he went. First Class flights. She looked over her shoulder to the coach section; suddenly, that portion of the plane looked horribly cramped, like a dingy that was crowded with people being towed behind a luxury cruise liner. The flight attendant brought their drinks around, and Kate sipped her cocktail, enjoying the flight and the opportunity to get out of New York. Mac had been right; this trip was exactly what she needed.

Mac had his head buried in a manuscript with a pair of expensive reading glasses perched on his nose. He hated wearing them, but blamed it on the curse of the job. He was the only man Kate had ever met who could make a pair of reading glasses look sexy. He looked over them at her.

“Enjoying the trip so far?”

Kate nodded. “I am, Mac. Thanks.”

Mac lifted his glasses and tucked them in his pocket.

“Enough reading for now,” he smiled. “Let’s talk about your plans for this book. I know you’ve been doing your homework, so let me have it.”

They spent the next hour talking through the campaign. Mac gave her his insight on certain areas, but he was clear that this was her baby, and he needed her to know that he trusted her on this.

Which he did.

Completely.

The campaign would start unfolding as soon as they could get the finished manuscript into advance book form. The advanced review copies—or ARCs, as they were called—would get sent to the loud-mouth media and bloggers that helped rocket
The Promise
to its number-one position. But first, they had to have the book. This made Mac nervous. The book could ride on a certain amount of momentum from its predecessor, but in the end, it would be judged on its own merit. If it became a crappy remake, returns would hit the warehouse. This wouldn’t bode well for any future titles by this author or any other author in the series. MD had given Michael Singer a seven figure advance. Singer’s agent insisted on nothing less, and Edward had signed off on it without blinking an eye. Mac has asked Edward to get a sample outline, but Edward had waved the idea away insisting that the book would do well, regardless. Mac wasn’t so sure. They needed this book to do well, not just for the money they paid the author, but for the future of the publisher. A publishing house could only stand so many failures a year. For MD, if this book didn’t do well, it could mean the entire company and all the other imprints might suffer.

They landed at SeaTac right on time, and the driver was waiting for them when they arrived at baggage claim. It was still early evening and Mac had invited Michael’s agent to an informal dinner to meet Kate before the pow-wow the next day. Jade Lee, Michael’s agent, was based in San Francisco. Though Mac had dealt with the agency numerous times, Jade was newly hired. How she’d managed to land this big client was beyond Mac. Generally, high-ticket authors went to seasoned agents.

…

The rooms at the Four Seasons in downtown Seattle were spacious, and as expected, luxuriously appointed. The carpet was so thick Kate almost sank into it, and the bath was big enough for four people. She hoped she’d have time to enjoy the room but suspected she wouldn’t. They were on a tight schedule; dinner with the agent tonight and meetings with the author most of the day tomorrow. There was a tap at her door; it was Mac, who had a room only three doors down from hers.

“You ready to go, Katie?”

Kate had just enough time to slip into her favorite black dress, throw on her sinfully expensive Jimmy Choo pumps, and run a brush through her hair.

“Yes, be there in a minute.”

Kate opened her door. Mac made no attempt to come inside. He only smiled.

“You look great, Kate.”

“Thanks, Mac. I’m still on New York time, so I’m starving, to be honest.”

“Then let’s get you some dinner, and oh, better get used to the time difference. We’ll be making this trek a lot, you and me. At least until the book is done…” Mac’s words trailed off as Kate grabbed her purse and headed out to dinner.

…

Jade Lee was a petite woman with smooth features and jet-black hair that fell down her back in a silken sheath. She wore a red silk dress and heels so high Kate wasn’t sure how she managed to walk in them. Even with the heels, Kate assessed that Jade still didn’t hit five feet four inches. She had a delicate smile to match her features and spoke so softly Kate almost had to lean in to hear her. She seemed timid, and this didn’t sit well with Kate. Agents are a lot of things, but timid isn’t one of them. She wasn’t expecting brash. Although she was sweet, there was no business polish to Jade. In fact, she even seemed afraid of Mac. They met at The Fish Market, a local favorite perched over a pier with an expansive view of the harbor. The lighting was dim and the restaurant packed. They were shown to a table with a perfect view of the water, and Kate marveled at the beauty of the city. They talked about the deal, but Jade mostly nodded, agreeing to pretty much everything Mac offered to her. Only a few times did she say she’d have to check with her client. Other than that, she was as agreeable as the wait staff in the restaurant.

When she got up to go to the restroom, Mac leaned into Kate and whispered, “What do you want to bet she’s sleeping with Michael.”

“Mac, come on! That would be, well, wrong…”

Mac frowned, “Yeah, wrong. Well, maybe, but not impossible and certainly not improbable in publishing.”

“I would have to admit that his choice of agent doesn’t make sense, and I have no idea how she managed to negotiate a big deal like that with Edward.”

“She didn’t,” Mac sipped his wine, watching the restroom door for Jade’s return. “I’m certain of it. Edward says she did, but I doubt it. My gut tells me she’s done nothing but lick Michael’s stamps. And probably a few other things…”

Kate nearly spit up her drink, “Jesus, Mac. Stop it.”

He chuckled. “Just trying to make sure you’re paying attention, Katie,” he smiled.

Chapter Eighteen

Michael Singer’s office was an impressive mix of technology and modern décor. The computers were all sleek Apples, and unlike the offices she worked at in New York, there were no cords anywhere to be found. The environment seemed almost sterile. Everyone wore cordless headsets, and the desks were freestanding frosted glass. She was escorted from the tightly secured lobby to the twenty-sixth floor in this massive high-rise. Singer’s team occupied the entire floor. When the elevator doors opened, she and Mac were greeted by a woman with red, short-cropped hair, a brief smile, and polite manner. Kate bristled at the lack of warmth the office maintained and wondered for a moment how the author of a warm and fuzzy law of attraction book could survive in such an environment.

They were asked to wait in the small but expensively appointed exterior lobby to Singer’s office. There were no magazines, just copies of
The Promise,
with his contribution pages highlighted.

“I already like this guy,” Mac said almost ironically as he held up one of the copies of the book. Kate smiled but remained silent. The room felt austere, and she was almost afraid to speak. In fact, she had a funny feeling that everything they said was being recorded.

“Mac, can I ask what Singer does for a living?”

Mac thought for a moment. “Does it really matter?”

“Well, sort of,” she frowned. “If I’m going to push him on interviews, someone is bound to ask me.”

“He does speaking. You know—motivational stuff—all over the country. He also runs a charity for kids.”

Mac reached down on the table and handed her a flyer.

“See, Kids First. They gift books to kids who don’t have them, promote reading, et cetera. That’s pretty much all I know.”

“Well, I’m going to have to dig a little deeper than that,” Kate said.

“Katie,” Mac smiled, leaning into her, “you can dig as deep as you want. This guy has got it all going on. When he speaks, he draws crowds in by the thousands. That’s why we want to promote this book: Lots of loyal followers.”

A door opened, and in the doorway stood a tall, handsome, neatly dressed man. He bore a warm, friendly smile. Unlike the almost austere and sterile surroundings he found himself in, he seemed at first glance to be anything but sterile.

“Mac,” he smiled, “good to see you again!” He shook Mac’s hand briskly then turned to Kate.

“And you must be Katharine Mitchell, the publicist for the book.”

“Mr. Singer,” she smiled, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ms. Mitchell, Mr. Singer was my father. It’s Michael to you.”

“Michael, it’s nice to meet you. And please, call me Kate.”

“Likewise, Kate. Now, please come into my office so we can plan the rollout of this blockbuster bestseller.”

…

The meeting lasted through much of the day and into the early afternoon. Mac was thrilled to find that Michael had written about eighty percent of the book but was just waiting on some scientific data to help substantiate his claims.

“You know, Mac,” Michael began, sipping his foam-free, half-caff, extra hot, non-fat cappuccino that an immaculately dressed woman had brought in to him minutes before, “I really want this book to be different. I want it to stand on its own merit, and I want those naysayers to be able to look at the data in this book and realize there’s something to this law of attraction stuff.”

“I agree,” Mac nodded, his hands around the plain black coffee he’d asked for. The assistant had looked almost startled that Mac would order something so unfancy.

“I think it’s a good idea to include it. I’m sure Edward will be pleased, too. I’ll be sure and tell him when I get back to New York.”

They agreed to speak in two weeks when Michael’s manuscript was due. With a pair of brisk handshakes, Michael escorted them to his door and left them in the capable hands of his assistant to lead them out of the office. Once they were in the elevator, Mac turned to Kate who had been noticeably silent the last hour of their visit.

“So, Kate, what do you think?”

“I think the book sounds exciting,” Kate said, her voice lacking enthusiasm.

“Forgive me for saying this, Kate, but you could be talking about the latest no-name memoir instead of the next blockbuster book to hit the market.”

Kate inhaled deeply, realizing she needed to pull herself together. Something had rattled her during the meeting and she wasn’t sure what it was. Whatever it was, she needed to keep herself in check. The last thing she needed was for Mac to doubt her ability to handle this.

“I’m sorry, Mac. I think I’m suffering from time zone fatigue.”

Mac nodded, “That’s understandable. I tell you what. Let’s head back to the hotel and you can take a nap. Then we’ll go have dinner someplace casual and talk about Singer’s book. Sound fair?”

“Sounds fair, Mac. Thanks.”

Chapter Nineteen

A little over an hour later, Kate was refreshed and dressed for dinner in a white shirt and a simple pair of her favorite jeans she’d packed at the last minute. At five p.m. there was a light tap at her door. She opened it and welcomed Mac in.

He just smiled and said, “Let’s go, Katie. I want to show you Seattle on our last night in the Pacific Northwest.”

The Crab Shack was buzzing with voices and laughter. The atmosphere felt relaxing, and Kate finally felt herself start to shake a tiny bit of the edgy feeling she’d picked up in Singer’s office earlier that day.

“Kate, if you don’t mind, I’m going to order for us. There’s only one thing you should have here, and you can’t leave Seattle without trying their King Crab. It’s so good, it’s sinful.” Mac set his menu down and flagged the waitress over.

After he placed their order and the waitress brought their drinks, beer and a white wine, he said, “So, Kate, you’re feeling better, yes?”

“Much better, Mac, thanks. I think Michael is spot on to include the scientific piece with this. It gives me a lot to work with.”

“That’s what I figured. I mean, it’ll really help you take it from the level
The Promise
is at now—and that’s not a bad level to be. But differentiating the two titles can’t hurt sales. Readers who haven’t gotten the first book because they were skeptics might now buy both.”

“Right. And when we launch the campaign, we can appeal to them by going after the market using language they’ll resonate with. Saying something like, ‘if you needed proof, we’ve got it’. Of course, that will depend on what Michael brings to the table research-wise, but he seems to be on his game.”

“He does. I called Edward and he’s thrilled. I think he’s already planning to be on the cover of
Publishers Weekly
as Publishing Person of the Year.”

“You really think he’ll get it?”

“If we pull this off, he will. Two of the biggest books the industry has seen in a long time under one publishing house. Not to mention all the other books he’s worked with. I’d say it’s a given.”

“Would you ever want that, Mac?”

Mac smiled at her.

“What? Recognition? No. I don’t care about that. I just want my books to sell and my authors to do well. I don’t need any door prizes.”

The conversation eased along and Kate nearly forgot her unease, or for that matter, the last time she and Mac had been alone together.

After her second glass of wine, Kate began to feel delightfully lightheaded and relaxed. The crab had been superb as Mac has promised, and the evening was fun and productive. After the waitress cleared their plates, Mac suggested a walk. It was a warm night for fall, a perfect night to be outside.

Mac led Kate outside. The moon was yellow, full, and bright, illuminating everything it touched. They walked across the street to a sidewalk that wound around the harbor. It was filled with couples holding hands, walking slowly, and some just sitting on the benches gazing at the moon.

“So, are you feeling a little less spooked?” Mac finally asked.

Kate was startled.

“What do you mean?”

“You were spooked by Singer earlier. I know you were. Tell me what’s up.”

Kate wrestled with her words. From the minute she stepped off the elevator, she’d had this uneasy feeling about Singer. Something that didn’t sit quite right. The elaborate offices and endless staff. The ultra modern, sanitized feel of the room lacking in warmth and personality. And Singer’s demeanor, while friendly, bore an edge of something Kate couldn’t quite put her finger on. All she knew was that when Singer shook her hand, it made her want to shower. Kate stopped walking and gazed out onto the water. She leaned on the railing, eyeing the boats bobbing in front of her. Mac stopped, too, watching her for a moment then leaning in next to her.

“Kate,” he said softly, “you can tell me. Trust me. I won’t judge you.” He was close to her, so close she could smell the scent of soap on his skin and his breath in her hair.

“There’s something not right,” she said finally, in a voice so low he could barely hear her.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t put my finger on it, Mac, but there’s something not right with this guy. It’s almost creepy.”

Mac chuckled and quickly apologized, “Katie, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, but listen, they’re new age people. They all seem creepy to me.”

“I don’t mean that, Mac,” Kate continued, determined now to get her point across. “I mean, didn’t you think it was odd that for one of the leading new age people there wasn’t a single new age-y object in that entire office? Not even a freaking poster that said ‘think and make it happen.’ There was nothing. It was sterile. Not to mention expensive. I mean, you said he runs a charity, too, right? Have you ever seen how ninety percent of charities are run? On shoe strings, and more often than not, out of someone’s apartment.”

Mac leaned into her further. He could tell she was seriously concerned.

“Kate, listen. Yes, I did notice, but frankly, these top new age people are all like that. Most of them don’t even drink their own Kool-Aid. You know the old saying, ‘We teach what we most need to learn?’ Most of these so-called gurus never get their own stuff; they just have the gift for writing it or really talented co-authors. His charity is just a side project, I think. Most of his money comes from his motivational speaking.”

“No, Mac. I get that. I mean, I know these people are just facades for the most part, but it was something else. Something almost sinister.”

“You mean Singer?” Mac frowned, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I don’t trust him, Mac. I’m saying you and I need to watch him like a hawk, or this whole thing could blow up in our faces. I’m saying that there might be more to Singer than what meets the eye. And what about that agent, Jade Lee? She makes the least sense of all. So, okay. What if he is sleeping with her? She’s not a negotiator. You can plainly see that.”

Kate knew she was overstepping. It was the wine, the moon, and this handsome man standing so close to her and the fact that despite Grace’s warnings, she trusted him.

Mac put his hand on her back. The touch of him felt almost electric. She had always thought that the “electric” remark in romance novels was just a creative use of words, but now she knew it was true. It was possible to feel the electricity of someone’s hand, and she felt it when Mac touched her.

“Kate, this is your first big book. I know you’re nervous, but trust me. If you think something is up with this guy, I’ll watch him closely. I promise you I won’t let anything happen to this campaign, and I certainly won’t let him fuck this up for either of us.”

“Thanks, Mac. I appreciate it, but it’s more than my being nervous, which I admit I am. This is bigger. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep going on about this. I just don’t want anything to go wrong. What if he’s planned to turn this manuscript over to another publisher at the last minute? Or worse, what if he pulls out of this altogether?”

“We’ll sue him.”

“And in the meantime, MD will have a hole in their fall list the size of the Grand Canyon, and I doubt we’d ever recover from it.”

“Kate,” Mac turned to her, his face inches from her own, “do you trust me?”

Kate nodded.

“Then you’ve got to trust me on this. I’m not trying to dismiss your fears, but I don’t want you to get distracted by them. This is a big deal for your career, and you’ve got to stay focused on that. Let me worry about whether Singer is going to fuck this up. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Mac wanted to kiss her right there under the moon with the water lapping at the shore. He wanted to lean in and take her in his arms, but he didn’t. He fought it, although every single cell in his body wanted to grab her and press himself into her.

Nothing good would come of it; that much he knew. But it had never stopped him before. He needed to be careful with Kate. She wasn’t like the others. She was onto him, and that alone was more unnerving than he cared to admit. Yet in an odd twist of fate, it was also a refreshing challenge.