Episode 6: A Festival in Exile

Bolstered by the idea that she had an ally inside Aqueduct, even an ally who was herself in a precarious position, Nuria strode into her meeting with Kate Bakersfield. When she arrived, Kate said, "Shut the door."

Nuria looked around the room, empty but for the two of them, "Am I early?"

Kate shook her head, "No. I wanted this first meeting just to be the two of us--so that we could start out with the air clear."

"All right," said Nuria, sitting down and folding her hands.

"You look very professional today," said Kate.

"Thank you," said Nuria.

"You arrived more or less on time today, spent the morning learning how to use all of the devices that are part of having a job here, took lunch with Marcie, and came back after a reasonable amount of time. You arrived on time for this meeting and appear to have put a good deal of thought into your appearance." Kate spoke in even, clipped tones.

Nuria was too stunned by the laundry list to reply immediately.

"I am not usually in the habit of spying on my employees, but you are of specific concern to me and I've been asking around."

Nuria smoothed an imaginary wrinkle out of her suit, "All right."

Kate sighed and ran a hand through her graying hair, "Here's what I need to get out on the table: If you don't intend to take this job seriously, I can live with that. Your salary is a small offset to what we can expect to make on Mr. Wolffe's book. Being a working editor is often a miserable job, one I was rarely fond of myself. So, if you would rather 'work from home, ' arrive once every few weeks when we have to meet with Mr. Wolffe, and collect a paycheck twice a month, let me know now and we will save ourselves a considerable amount of time that would otherwise be spent on maintaining a charade."

Nuria sat up straighter, "I don't intend for this to be a charade, Ms. Bakersfield."

Kate raised an eyebrow at her, "You do understand that by 'work from home, ' I mean, 'do whatever the hell you please, so long as you don't come to the office, ' don't you?"

Nuria nodded, "Yes. I just want to be a good editor."

"Shit," said Kate in those same, dignified, clipped tones, "I was afraid you were going to say that." Reaching into her elegant Coach leather purse, she extracted a small flask, "Can I interest you in a sniff?"

When Nuria shook her head, Kate took a water glass, poured herself a healthy dose of some clear liquid, and drank it down. When she was finished, she said, "This would be far easier for me if you were some unqualified floozy that I could trot out every so often to make the client happy. The worst possible case here is if you turn out to be well-meaning, but incompetent. So, if at any point, you change your mind and decide you would rather live a life of quiet reflection, subsidized by Aqueduct, just let me know."

When Nuria didn't answer, Kate said, "I can see that you're determined to give this a shot. So be it. Just remember that the offer stands. But, as long as you're actually planning to be a part of this firm, we'll do what we can to get you up to speed. Mr. Geschbach has been instructed to assist you with Mr. Wolffe's book as much as he can. I know that the book is not in a submittable draft yet. If you can convince Mr. Wolffe to let Mr. Geschbach read what you currently have, I would consider you somewhat less in my debt."

Nuria nodded, "I'll try."

Kate smiled, taking away some of the sting of her words, "You're going to have something of an uphill battle here, Miss Delgado. I don't know what your relationship with Mr. Wolffe is, but I want you to know I have no intention of holding it against you. When I started in this business in 1959, my boss hired me because he liked the way I filled out a sweater. I slept with him to keep my job. He was not half as young, successful, or attractive as your Mr. Wolffe. Your official title here is junior acquisitions editor. I can tell you from first-hand experience that you can sleep your way to the middle in this business, but you have to work your way to the top. If you want my advice, and you do, you should spend every minute you are not working on Mr. Wolffe's book trying to find a new author that you are not--personally associated with who can make us some money. Once you have a few successes under your belt, most people won't really care what else has been there."

Nuria was flustered. She wasn't sure whether she should feel grateful or insulted. She decided that she would accomplish very little by taking affront and decided to be grateful.

"Thank you for the advice," she said quietly.

"You're fortunate in one way," said Kate. "Mr. Wolffe's book is going to be the flagship product in our new imprint, Orbital. If you wanted to focus on science fiction and you're any good, I imagine you could make quite an impression in the field in only a few years."

Nuria smiled, feeling genuinely hopeful for the first time since the meeting had started, "Thank you, Ms. Bakersfield. I'll look into that."

Kate nodded, "If you have any free time this week, you might want to start on the slush pile. You never know when a gem will be found there."

-=-

It was Wednesday before Nuria got to the slush pile. It actually turned out to be a row of filing cabinets that were used to hold all the unsolicited manuscripts that Aqueduct received. Actually, that wasn't true. It was used to hold all the unsolicited manuscripts that the interns couldn't find an excuse to throw out. Incorrect formatting, non-standard paper, unusual fonts, anything that deviated from the norm could cause a manuscript to go to the "circular file" instead.

More interesting to Nuria than the nature of the slush pile was its location. The row of cabinets faced into the enclosed area of the floor known as the bullpen--where the most junior of editors worked. If not for her contacts, it's where Nuria would work. Actually, Nuria reminded herself, if not for her contacts, she wouldn't work here at all.

Having walked by the far side of the cabinets, she'd heard the steady rumble of conversation on the other side. So, when she stepped in, the abrupt silence was all the more shocking. Everyone seemed to be hard at work on something on their desk or computer, but Nuria could sense that they were staring at her behind her back.

Head held high, she strolled quickly across the bullpen, trying not to let the staring get to her. She got about half-way before it started to get to her. She glanced around. No one was looking up. As she got closer, she slowed her stride. That was a mistake. Gonzalo, who was sitting almost directly in front of the file cabinet marked "Orbital," rose to his feet.

"You look lost, hermana. Is there something I can help you with?"

He smiled at Nuria and it was all that she could do not to flinch. Even though his hands were firmly in his pockets, she felt like he'd reached out for her. This time, his eyes stayed firmly on her face, but they seemed to bore a hole in her skull. There was a challenge to the way he stood, even though it looked casual on the face of it.

"I just came by to get some manuscripts from the slush file," she said.

Gonzalo turned, his hand indicating the filing cabinet she'd been headed for anyway, "It is right here."

Nuria nodded. For some reason, her feet had stopped their forward momentum and didn't seem willing to start again. It took several seconds before she started walking again.

Gonzalo stepped forward as if to help, getting to the cabinet a moment before Nuria. As such, she wound up stepping into his personal space, close enough to feel his body warmth and smell the scent of him. He wore some expensive, emphatically male fragrance, not noticeable until she was in close. It seemed to be making Nuria dizzy.

He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was unobtrusive and should have been inoffensive. Nuria knew how crazy she would look if she made a scene over it. With his other hand, he reached over and pulled the drawer open.

"Do not expect too many miracles here," he said. "Many people think they can be writers in spite of all the evidence being to the contrary."

He held out a manuscript box to Nuria. She took it and turned to go.

"You are only taking one?" he asked.

Nuria was already flustered. The question didn't help, "I, uh..."

"Most of these manuscripts can be rejected before you have finished the first page. While we would all be glad to see you back every few minutes, you may want to take a few at a time."

There was a nervous undercurrent of laughter around the bullpen. Nuria kept her eyes straight forward.

"All right," she said. "I can probably carry four or five."

Gonzalo piled the requested number of boxes on top of the one she already held. As Nuria turned to go, he said, "Remember my offer, hermana. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

Nuria was afraid that she would have bolted if not weighed down by the manuscripts. As it was, she stepped a little too abruptly and felt the pile sway sickeningly. She managed to correct her path and keep it from falling, but it remained awkward all the way back to her desk and did fall over when she tried to set it down. They spread out across her empty desktop, the topmost box balancing dramatically on the edge for a moment before crashing to the floor with a solid thud.

Mr. Geschbach looked at the box on the floor, "You can probably throw that one out without looking at it."

Nuria looked up at him, surprised, "Why? Because it hit the floor?"

Mr. Geschbach shrugged, "As good of a reason as any. That was always a thankless job. There are just enough stories floating around about slush piles yielding gold that Kate insists we go over every manuscript that comes in. The result has been twelve titles published in nine years. Only one of them made any money."

Nuria picked up the box off the floor, "That does not sound encouraging."

"Practically everybody who can string a sentence together has an agent these days," said Mr. Geschbach. "As soon as the press release announcing your hiring starts to make the rounds, you'll be hearing from them." The way he said the last word made his contempt for the breed clear.

"Well," said Nuria. "If I can't expect much from agents and I can't expect much from the slush pile, where am I supposed to get my leads?"

Mr. Geschbach shrugged, "From agents and the slush pile, mostly. We've got four acquisitions editors and, most years, publish five or six books by new authors. This year, you're lucky. With the roll-out of the Orbital imprint, we're bumping in up to nine or ten. Most of the acquisitions editor's job is to try to stay awake and aware long enough that they don't miss a real opportunity. It's a tight business. If you discover two money-making authors in the same year, you're considered a star. If you go more than one year without discovering any author, people start talking about you like you're dead. Bill Valmanian's been in the business twenty-two years, but he didn't find an author last year or the year before and he's probably on the way out.

Nuria sighed and opened the manuscript she'd retrieved from the floor. By virtue of giving it the benefit of the doubt, she managed to get to page two. Then, she put it aside.

Gonzalo had been right. The only thing that kept her from going through the whole pile before lunch was that Aqueduct had a ticket system for slush pile manuscripts that, in most cases, took as long to fill out as the manuscript took to evaluate. At first, she'd been worried about the fact that there was no step between her evaluation and dropping a manuscript back into the mail to the author. What if she made a mistake and rejected an author who turned out to be the next Stephen King?

By the time she left for lunch, she wasn't entirely convinced that it couldn't happen, but she could comfortably say that she hadn't done it today.

"I'm starting to think it's some sort of elaborate joke, created to haze new editors," she told Marcie at lunch. "I only taught eighth grade English, but I swear my students had a better grasp of grammar and spelling than some of these would-be authors."

Marcie smiled, "Gonzalo told me that editors reading from the slush pile use the rule of three. If you find three grammar or spelling errors and the manuscript hasn't riveted you, move on to the next."

Nuria shook her head, "If I did that, I wouldn't have gotten past page one on a couple of manuscripts."

"That's the idea," said Marcie. "If an author can't do the work to make sure they don't have three misspellings or grammar errors on page one, what are the odds that they've put the work in to write a marketable book?"

Nuria shrugged, "I guess. But, I feel bad."

Marcie laughed, "You'll get over that pretty quickly."

"So," asked Nuria as casually as she could imagine. "How well do you know Gonzalo?"

Marcie lowered her head, rubbed the back of her neck, and didn't say anything for a few seconds. Nuria noticed, but didn't comment.

"We went out a few times," said Marcie.

Nuria nodded, "It didn't work out?"

Marcie shrugged, "It worked out fine, I think. It was never meant to be serious."

Nuria looked across the table at Marcie. In spite of the breeziness of her words, the young intern looked unhappy.

Marcie saw Nuria watching her, "Why do you ask?"

"I..." Nuria chose her words carefully, "I think I got on his bad side. Kate gave me his desk and put him back in the bullpen. And, I'm working with Mr. Geschbach."

Marcie made a hissing noise through her teeth, "It would be just like Gonzalo to blame you for that."

"Well," said Nuria, idly stirring her iced tea. "I understand his point. He's..."

Marcie shook her head, "Don't blame yourself on this one. He was cruising for a demotion."

Nuria leaned in, "Why?"

"One of the secretaries filed sexual harassment charges against him," said Marcie. "Kate obviously thought they were serious because she was ready to let him go. The next thing she knows, he's got four lawyers with him ready to make trouble. And, we're not talking Jacoby & Meyers. Gonzalo's family owns a bunch of copper mines or something. These were family lawyers."

Nuria had stopped stirring her iced tea, "So, what happened?"

"I didn't see it with my own eyes," said Marcie. "But, I've heard it from a number of sources. Kate moved Maria into her own office, gave her more responsibility, made it clear that the firm was behind her. She moved Gonzalo in with Geschbach so that the old guy could keep an eye on him. Only, I think Geschbach took a liking to him. Anyway, one day, Maria goes down to the Starbucks on the corner for coffee. She comes back twenty minutes later, no coffee, crying her eyes out. She doesn't even go to her desk. She goes straight to HR, recants her whole story, drops the charges, and quits. No two week notice or anything, she just quits."

Nuria frowned, "That's awful. What did he do to her?"

"Nothing," said Marcie. "That's the official story. Anton Lansing, who wrote "Diamond Days" for us, swears he and Gonzalo were in a meeting the whole time. And Maria won't say a damned word about it."

"You sound pretty angry for someone who didn't see any of this first-hand."

Marcie sighed, "I was seeing Gonzalo at the time. It was nothing serious, just a fling. But, it was enough that I took his side at first, even went to the wall for him to Kate. But, after what he did to Maria... that was the end of it."

"Marcie," asked Nuria. "Do you know what he did to Maria? Did he tell you?"

Marcie gave an abrupt shake of her head, "If I did or he did, I wouldn't say. I'm pretty mad at his right now, but I don't tell secrets."

Nuria was ready to argue, but decided not to. She took a deep breath, "I appreciate that."

"But, if I were you," Marcie added. "And I were on Gonzo's bad side, I would give him a wide berth."

-=-

Nuria took Marcie's advice, staying away from Gonzalo. She had asked Mr. Geschbach if there were a way to get manuscripts from the slush file without going and picking them up, claiming they were too heavy and hurt her back. Geschbach had stared at her for a moment as if he could see right through both her and her excuse, but explained how to input a requisition to have an intern bring her a number of manuscripts.

That night, she went home and got some rest. It turned out that Quentin had a regular Wednesday-night poker game that usually ran well past midnight. He offered to cancel it, but Nuria had to admit that she was grateful for the sleep. It had been a long week and it was only half over. Pearl had climbed into bed next to her, promising to behave and it had taken her nearly an hour to break that promise and be exiled back to her own bed.

Thursday night, she and Quentin went out for dinner at a little Brazilian restaurant in the fifties. It wasn't a celebrity hang out by any means and, if anyone recognized him, they were too polite to say so.

When Quentin tried to drop her off after dinner, Nuria coaxed him into her room. As embarrassed as she was by the tiny space in which she lived, even one night without him had left her with a dull ache. At the time, they'd been alone in the apartment. But, when Quentin left around three, Pearl and Carla were just getting back from wherever they had gone. It seemed to Nuria that they looked at her with a gleam of new respect after that which was, to her way of thinking, warped but entirely consistent.

Friday was another uneventful day at work. For the most part, she avoided Gonzalo. When he passed her in the hall, he gave her a wry and enigmatic smile, but said nothing.

She and Quentin had plans for a late dinner that night. He was taking the red eye to Chicago to do some sort of promotion on the weekend. When he'd told Nuria about it, he offered to take her along. As much as she didn't want to, Nuria demurred. It was going to be hard enough keeping her relationship with Quentin a secret without flying off for the weekend with him.

When she got home, Pearl and Carla were getting dressed to the nines. Pearl poked her head out of her room long enough to say, "Sean called. He's having a housewarming tonight and wants you to come."

Nuria sighed, "Oh, dear. I already have plans with Quentin."

"That's too bad," said Carla, poking her head out of her room. "It's going to be a rocking party."

Nuria sat down and stretched out on the couch, "So, what are you two getting ready for?"

There was an awkward silence. Then, Pearl said, "Sean invited us to the party, too. We were planning on going to be your wingmen."

"Well, like I said, I have plans with Quentin."

Carla came out of her room, ran over to the couch, and went down on her knees, "Can we go anyway, Miss D? Please please please!"

Nuria laughed, "I don't see why not. But, I thought you didn't like Sean."

"I don't particularly," said Carla. "But, you should hear who's going to be there. It's going to be a big deal."

Nuria laid her head on Carla's head, laughing, "Go, then. You have my blessing."

Carla kissed her on the cheek, squealed, and bounced off to her room. After she was gone, Pearl stepped out of her room and walked over to the couch. Looking down at Nuria, she asked, "Are you sure it's okay?"

Nuria sat up and nodded, "Of course. Just because I can't make the party doesn't mean you two should stay home."

Pearl laughed, holding her hand to her face. Nuria looked up, a question on her face, wondering what was so funny.

"That's right," said Pearl, still chuckling. "Before we got invited to this party, we had a quiet evening of needlework planned."

-=-

Nuria was getting dressed for dinner when her Pearl stuck her head in the bedroom door, "Phone for you."

Nuria took the handset and pressed it to her ear, "Hello."

"Nuria," said Quentin. "How are you?"

Nuria smiled, "I'm doing well, Quentin. I was just getting dressed for dinner."

"About that..." said Quentin.

By the tone of his voice, Nuria knew they weren't having dinner tonight. Still, she asked, "Yes?"

"Sean is having a housewarming tonight," said Quentin. He took a deep breath, "I have no intention of going. It would be an hour there and an hour back so that I could spent an hour listening to him talk about how I exiled him."

Nuria felt her heart sink, "Was the break really that bad?"

Quentin chuckled, "No. Not at all. Sean just has an overdeveloped sense of melodrama sometimes."

"So," said Nuria. "What does that have to do with dinner?"

"I told Sean I would be writing tonight," said Quentin. "I meant it to be a lie. But, now I am writing. And I really should continue. I haven't touched this manuscript since the day I ran into you in the bookstore."

Nuria nodded into the phone, "I understand. Besides that, if we were spotted and it got back to Sean..."

"I would never hear the end of it," said Quentin. "Are you horribly disappointed?"

"Yes," admitted Nuria. "But, I do understand."

"Did he invite you to the party?" asked Quentin.

"Yes," said Nuria. "And Pearl and Carla. They're trying on clothes now."

"You should go," said Quentin. "I introduced Sean to a lot of publishing people. Many of them will be there. It would be an excellent networking opportunity for you."

Nuria closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead as if she'd gotten a sudden headache, "I have to network? I don't remember that in my contract."

Quentin chuckled, "If I can do it, you can do it."

Nuria very much doubted that. Somewhere, Quentin had acquired a facility with people greater than any she would ever possess.

"You'll have Pearl and Carla with you," said Quentin. "Will they watch your back?"

"More than that if I let them," Nuria smirked.

"Excuse me?"

"Err," She was glad Quentin couldn't see her blushing over the phone, "I think they will. They offered to be my wingmen, whatever that means."

Quentin laughed, "It sounds like you'll be fine, then."

Nuria sighed. She had nothing to say, but found herself not wanting to hang up. After a long pause, Quentin said, "I should get back to work."

"Of course," said Nuria, smiling to herself.

-=-

"I have nothing to wear!"

Pearl came trotting across the living room to where Nuria was standing in front of her now-overstuffed closet.

"You are not allowed to say that," she said emphatically. "I thought we must have been robbed. Besides," she looked Nuria up and down. "What's wrong with what you're wearing?"

"Quentin cancelled on me to spend time with his true love," said Nuria, throwing an arm across her chest in a gesture of being mortally wounded. "I'm stuck babysitting you two tonight."

"He's writing?" asked Pearl.

"I'm afraid so," said Nuria. "I can't compete with the Barrens Princess."

Pearl held her hand to her face thoughtfully, "Considering what a fan she is, Carla might have a costume for that. You could slip it on and go distract him."

Carla, who had arrived in time to hear most of the conversation, giggled, "Actually, I did a shoot in an outfit very much like that. I never got so much e-mail."

Pearl smiled, "Miss D's going to chaperone tonight."

Nuria made an indignant noise, "Chaperone? Just for that, I'm spiking the punch."

"Oo," squealed Carla. "My favorite kind of chaperone."

"But, what am I going to wear?" asked Nuria. "And don't say your Barrens Princess costume."

"Hmmm..." said Carla, looking into Nuria's closet. "What look are we going for?"

"I guess that depends on what sort of party it's going to be," said Nuria.

Carla thought about it, "Based on what I know about the man throwing it, I think 'Hot MILF on the prowl' is probably your best bet."

"What's a MILF?" Nuria asked.

Carla and Pearl looked at each other, then burst out laughing. When she stopped, Carla said, "That would be 'Mom I'd Like to Fuck.'"

Nuria was momentarily shocked, but knew she was supposed to be. So, she said, "Why, Carla. I'm flattered, but my life is really complicated enough as it is. Besides, I've never been a mother."

She felt an odd surge of triumph when Carla stood there, shocked. Pearl laughed loudly, "I told you she's changed."

Carla scowled, "I figured that out when I caught you two in bed together." For a moment, Nuria thought she was serious, but Carla winked at her and grinned.

"How about this?" asked Pearl, reaching for an outfit.

A half-hour later, they'd settled on an outfit. It wasn't what Nuria might have chosen on her own, but Pearl and especially Carla wore her down. She looked down at her bed where the outfit lay--a silky purple top, leather skirt, and summer-weight black leather jacket.

Frowning, she said, "I'm not sure it's age appropriate."

"Sure it is," insisted Carla. "If we let you decide what was age appropriate, you'd be in a housedress, a girdle, and a walker. You're not that old, Miss D."

Pearl laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Why did you accept it if you weren't going to wear it?"

Nuria gave a snort, "Irrational exuberance."

"Try it on," coaxed Pearl. "I bet it will look great."

Nuria did as she was told. Looking in the mirror, she decided the effect wasn't as bad as she thought.

"What do you think?" asked Pearl.

"I think..." said Nuria, turning back and forth, "that I am one good looking MILF."

-=-

They stripped down and put on robes long enough to eat dinner and relax for a while. With ninety minutes to drive, they were just getting into Pearl's car ten minutes after the time the party was designated to start. Nuria kept watching the clock inch forward and forcing herself not to pace. She also didn't say anything to her roommates, knowing they were just waiting to make fun of her for wanting to be anywhere near on time.

When they walked inside the house, Nuria felt a bit smug to see a couple dozen people already milling around. That smugness lasted just long enough for Carla to lean over and whisper in her ear, "These are the sycophants."

Nuria looked at her, "What?"

Carla said quietly, "Anybody who showed up in the first hour is here to curry favor. If they showed up up in the first fifteen minutes, it was specifically to throw their lot in with Sean over Quentin. Of course, that doesn't mean they won't be kissing Quentin's ass tomorrow morning."

Nuria raised an incredulous eyebrow at her roommate. Carla shrugged, "There's more to being fashionably late than you would think."

"Nuria," called Sean from across the room, projecting his voice so that everyone heard. Arms extended for a hug, he marched across the room to her. Wrapping his arms around her, he lowered his head and kissed her dramatically. Still, it was a good kiss and Nuria found herself melting into it.

Keeping an arm around Nuria's waist, he hugged Carla, kissing her on the cheek, "Carla, it's good to see you again."

Carla kissed his cheek in return, "It's been a long time, Sean."

Releasing both of them, he took Pearl's hands in his own, "And this must be Pearl. I must admit, the way Carla used to talk about you, I've been looking forward to meeting you for some time." He raised her hand fractionally and, when she didn't object, leaned down to kiss it.

He made a few minutes of small talk before spying someone new who had arrived. Turning to Nuria, he said, "Don't disappear. There are so many people here I want you to meet."

Pearl watched him walk away, then fanned herself dramatically. Letting her normally-restrained drawl be clearly heard, she said, "My. He is a tall drink of water. Isn't he?"

"Yeah," said Carla. "I'd kind of forgotten."

Speaking quietly, Nuria said, "If either of you hussies would like to move in on my man, it would certainly simplify my life."

Carla shook her head. Speaking out of the corner of her mouth, she said, "Not going down that road again."

-=-

Quentin had been right about one thing. There turned out to be a ton of publishing people at the party. The party seemed to be made up entirely of book people, movie people, artists, and models. Whatever deprivation Sean's "exile" had wrought, it seemed that enough people were willing to follow him to the suburbs that, by midnight, the party was spilling out of its original confines, expanding both upstairs and even out onto the untrampled snow of the back lawn.

Nuria found herself standing on the freshly-cleared balcony overlooking the back yard. The house was isolated enough that there didn't seem to be any neighbors who could register a noise complaint. It was cold out here, but not as cold as it had been. Inside the house, it had started to feel like a sauna.

Nuria stood with drink in her hand, looking out over the back yard. A small gaggle of people clustered close to the house. The yard was a sheet of unbroken white bordered on two sides by a thick field of conifers and in the back by a frozen lake.