Authors: Christina George
The Publicist (25 page)
Kate sat down and took a deep breath, “It’s Allan.”
“Lavigne?”
Kate nodded, “We, eh, found the box with a letter, addressed to me. He gave the manuscript to me. Then the lawyer confirmed it when they read Allan’s will. He willed it to me.”
Mac laughed out loud, “The most brilliant piece of literature on the planet and MD threw it away, fucking Edward.” Then he turned to Kate, “Katie, you can never tell anyone about this, in fact I’m not sure you can even publish it.”
She frowned, “Why not?”
“Because, you’re an MD employee, it’s a conflict of interest and I guarantee you, when Eddie finds out how amazing this book is, he’ll do whatever he can to win it back. He’ll get some hot shot lawyer to find some loophole that proves it’s still MD’s and you’ll be left holding the bag. I didn’t know Allan well at all but I know that MD treated him like shit, he’d never want them to end up with the book.”
Kate knew Mac was right, “So what should I do?”
“Sit on it for a while. I’ll destroy my copy just in case I get hit by a truck or something. Don’t do a thing. What about Nick?”
Kate turned to Mac, “What about him?”
“Can he publish it?”
“I don’t think he’s too interested in that.”
“But he’s interested in you.”
Kate didn’t respond.
Just then Eric came running from the back room, “I think she’s here!” he said cheerfully. Eric snapped his fingers, “Make-up, step lively, our girl is here!”
“Have you seen Saundra before?” Kate asked.
“Never met her, just spoke by phone. She’s been working with the producer of the Paul Chapel show through all of this. All I have to say is the transformation had better be as amazing as she’s been telling me.”
Just then the elevator doors opened and out walked an obese woman. She was wearing a red spandex two-piece outfit. The top had short sleeves, exposing her arms that seemed to burst out of the tight sausagelike casing they were confined to. She had short-cropped, angry blond hair.
“Who the hell are you?” Eric asked, “And where is Saundra?”
The woman smiled, “I’m Saundra.”
“Holy fuck,” Mac said louder than he’d intended.
.
“How the hell did this happen?” Mac was yelling into the phone to someone at the Dr. Paul Chapel show. Saundra was seated on a chair that wobbled precariously underneath her three hundred and twenty-five pound frame.
Kate felt like she needed to sit down, she couldn’t feel her feet. A book was days from being released into the world about a woman, once overweight, who had battled her demons and gotten in shape again. Kate watched Saundra, who sat suspiciously quiet. Kate walked over to her.
“Saundra, why?”
The woman started to cry, “I needed the money.”
Kate rolled her eye, geezus these people, “But you knew that when we saw you, the jig would be up. Did you really think you could pull this off?”
Saundra jutted her chin out, “Everyone loves Saundra Temple.”
Kate sighed, “But Saundra, the book is about you getting your life back.”
“I did get my life back; this country is so stuck on stereotypes, just because I’m a little overweight doesn’t mean my life is out of control.”
A little overweight, Kate shook her head. “Saundra, that isn’t the point, you sold MD a book about your makeover and the Dr. Chapel show was helping you with this, what happened with that?”
“The producer said I was fine.”
Just then, Mac walked over, “Kate, I need to talk with you.”
“Can I get some lunch?” Saundra asked.
“Haven’t you eaten enough?” Mac snapped. Saundra started to cry.
“Mac, stop it, let’s go talk.”
“Tell me what happened,” Kate said when they were out of earshot.
“The producer, as it turns out, has a substance abuse problem. She’s been in and out of rehab for months, she was supposed to be monitoring Saundra’s weight loss with her trainers who went MIA and no one was guarding the fucking hen house, or in this case the refrigerator.”
“Mac, stop making fat jokes.”
“At this point, Kate, it’s all we have. No book, nothing. You’d better call your contacts and tell them the book is canceled, we’ll need to get everyone here to sign NDAs. If this gets out, Edward will fire us both.”
Just then Saundra walked out of the studio and approached them, “So, do I still get to have a book?”
.
The next several hours were spent calling all media and recalling all review copies. Mac briefed Edward, who was furious, but Mac promised to clean this up before anyone got wise to what had happened.
Kate and Mac worked late into the night. Finally, around midnight Mac wandered into Kate’s office. He looked beaten and exhausted.
“I think we’re in the clear, Mac,” she offered supportively.
Mac dropped himself into a chair, “Maybe, but a lot of people are waiting on this book. There will be fallout.”
“It’ll be minimal; I’ll do whatever I can.” She knew it could cost Mac his job if this got out.
Mac looked at her, “I should have flown to California and supervised this, I shouldn’t have trusted that crack-head of a producer.”
“Mac, you didn’t know, how could you? The updates seemed legit.”
He shook his head, then his eyes softened, “I don’t know what I would do without you, Katie.”
She sighed. She didn’t know what she’d do without him, either.
“I came by your apartment, on New Year’s Eve. I came back early to help you through losing Allan. You were there, with Nick.”
Kate couldn’t respond. He’d been there?
Mac raised a hand, “It’s okay, Katie. You have every right and I have no right, none at all. But that doesn’t seem to stop me from feeling what I feel.” He stopped short of saying he loved her. It was a slippery slope, saying that would mean things, would promise her things he wasn’t sure he could deliver.
“You should leave me and go be with Nick, but I don’t want you to.
I want you with me, tonight and tomorrow we’ll figure out the rest.”
Kate sat behind her desk, unsure of what to do. She had planned to break up with Mac. Make a clean break and fall in love with Nick. But as the saying goes, we make plans and God laughs.
Mac stood up and walked over to her desk, gently lifting her from her chair.
“I thought of you every day while I was gone and I wished like hell that my life was different. I would love to stand here and promise you that I will leave her, that we will be together forever, but you and I both know it’s never that simple.”
Mac took her in his arms, “You deserve a man who can be with you, body and soul. If I were a decent person, I would send you off to be with a man who could offer you something I can’t: A future.”
Mac kissed her, and all she could think of was how much she wanted him.
They left the offices and headed for Mac’s apartment.
She had promised Grace she would leave him.
She would keep her promise, just not today.
.
Coming Soon:
The Publicist
Book Two
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The bar was packed with people, the conversation floated like a hum through the Fat Cat, where Kate had asked Grace to meet her to celebrate the launch of her latest book. Thankfully this time, the launch had gone off without a hitch. TVs played over the bar, but Kate hardly noticed them. She sipped her drink. She’d done it, she’d pulled this off. Kate could feel herself beaming. After all these years in book publicity, she always felt a surge of pride when an author’s book launch went off flawlessly.
Grace nudged her friend, “Kate, I didn’t know your author was supposed to be on Nancy Grace. Is that a good thing?”
Kate spun in her stool to face the television; she was just in time to see the crawl at the bottom. Someone had been arrested.
Oh, God. It was her author.
“Turn it up!” Hearing Kate’s panic, the bartender punched a button on the remote. The voices on the screen grew louder.
“So as it turns out,”
Nancy Grace began in her distinct Southern drawl,
“This guy has been doing something not good, in fact it’s downright disgusting. When I tell the whole story, you’ll agree that anything related to this guy, including his newly released book, should be banned.
……”
Nancy Grace continued, but Kate stopped listening. She felt lightheaded and nearly slipped off of her barstool, Grace steadied her.
“I take it you didn’t know about this?” she asked quietly.
Kate didn’t respond. She dug for her iPhone, which was vibrating out of control in her purse. It continued to buzz in her hand as she glanced at the screen. Messages were flooding in, show cancelations, event cancelations. Word of this incident and her author’s unconfirmed involvement was spreading faster than she could have anticipated. Damage control, she thought to herself, she needed damage control. But how do you control this?
Kate pounded the redial button. Mac, of course, was the last person she’d called. She turned her head, trying not to look at the flash of pictures of someone being carted away in handcuffs. The Feds had pulled a hood over his head and he looked sinister.
Mac’s number rang, no answer, voice mail. All she said was “Mac, call me, it’s urgent.” Next she tried his apartment.
Still nothing.
She sent him an urgent text message and waited an interminable five minutes for him to respond. When he didn’t, she realized she couldn’t stay in the bar; the sounds of laugher and conversation had started to grate on her.
“Grace, I need to get out of here.” She slid off the barstool, not waiting for Grace to respond.
Kate wove in a daze through the bar, ignoring the smiling faces. She was fixated on her phone. The night air was cool, the streets teeming with pedestrians. She tried calling Mac again. Nothing.
Finally a text message popped up:
Let’s meet at your apartment.
Kate grabbed the first cab she could and was home in ten minutes. By the time she got there and flipped on the TV, every major news station was covering this story.
It was, by all accounts, an unmitigated disaster.
A knock: “It’s Mac.” He said, then slipped his key into the lock. She was standing in front of her small TV, remote in hand, flipping through news stations that were all showing the same footage Nancy Grace had: Hooded author, disgraced.
Mac walked inside and she threw herself into his arms, “Oh, Mac, this is horrible. What are we going to do?”
Mac wrapped his arms around her but didn’t say a word. He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair, “I’m so sorry, Kate.”
Kate? Mac never called her Kate. A nervous coil of something curled inside her. She looked up, “Sorry, for what? This isn’t your fault.”
Mac could only look at her.
“Mac, say something, you’re worrying me. What’s going on here?”
He walked around the room, his hands deep in the pockets of his coat, which he didn’t see the need to remove. It wasn’t likely he would be staying long anyway.
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