Chapter 4

The day before leaving New York had been unexpectedly busy, and not just for packing. The burner phone Emily had been given by the woman in the park unexpectedly rang midmorning and the voice, different from Egghead or the woman, Emily described it as machine-like, informed us not to pack a lot, just enough for a large luggage bag and a carry-on for each of us. “Bring a winter coat and a warm sweater,” the voice informed Emily. “Otherwise casual clothes, no need for suits or dresses.”

Emily asked about money, wondering if the voice would answer. It or he since it was male, did respond, letting her know we wouldn’t be allowed to charge anything. “Would it be alright to bring cash?” Emily asked.

“Cash is good,” said the machine/man. “Any more questions?”

“No,” said Emily and the line disconnected.

Our plane tickets had been hand messangered to us at the apartment earlier in the week. Somehow they knew Emily had moved in. A letter included with the tickets gave us the address of the condo we’d be staying at in downtown Denver, a couple key cards and the codes to get in. The young Puerto Rican man who delivered the package looked clueless. He insisted we both meet him at the entrance to the building, and when we came down he looked at pictures of us before handing us the package, no signing required.

“They knew we were here and that I’m staying here,” said Emily.

“Either we’re being watched or that device they gave you has one party listening in,” I suspected.

“My money’s on the device,” Emily figured.

“Egghead hearing you in the reception area.”

“Exactly,” Emily nodded. “And what’s with the delivery guy? He didn’t have a uniform or badge.”

“Someone arbitrary?”

We shrugged.

Bottom line we didn’t have much to pack. The problem was not bringing things I thought valuable like my bespoke suits, custom shirts, fancy ties and my watch. I decided to purchase a storage space using cash to make it less obvious even though I’d be using my name. That was an unexpected errand. I packed everything into a garment bag and called for a cab who, after waiting with Emily while I stuffed bills into my shoulder bag at my bank, took us to a place near Penn Station where I purchased a storage space for a year.

Both of us wore suits during this errand, a respectable business suit for myself and Emily in a skirt suit. Emily had an appointment to which she’d failed to inform me, just insisting I dress up before the errands.

We walked a couple long blocks and a couple short blocks to an older office building west of Midtown, and I followed her into the elevator, getting out at a publishing house’s office.

“Emily! You found a publisher for your novel!”

“Yep.”

“Hello Emily,” said a well-dressed blonde man in his thirties.

“Scott Haas?” Emily asked.

“That would be me,” he smiled, revealing perfect white teeth.

“Scott, this is Joe Solomon, my fiancé. Joe this is my agent.”

We shook hands, his was firm but not aggressive. “You’ve never met?” I asked.

“Not visually,” Scott explained. “She sent me her manuscript.”

“And you read it unsolicited?”

“I keep up with up and coming writers,” he explained.

“You’ve read her stories.”

“I have and I’m a fan. She asked me to shop it around, but I already knew the perfect publisher.”

“What about bidding it?” I asked.

“For a first novel with this quality, they’d have outbid anyone with what they’re already offering. They have the best distribution, are fully aware of the promotion needed and know how to cater to the idiosyncratic demands of creative writers so as to best encourage a relationship to continue.”

“You know this is the beginning of a series,” I said, moving my sights to Emily.

“Could you give us a minute, Scott? Maybe somewhere private?”

“They expected us to chat before we meet. Give me a minute.”

Emily and I sat at the reception area, the pretty brunette receptionist looking a bit puzzled, finally asking if we might want something.

“You’re coffee any good?” Emily asked her.

“I could brew something fresh,” she offered.

“That would be great.”

When she left, Emily stuck her hand in her soft attache case and I heard the quiet white noise.

“I have the sequel nearly done,” she told me quietly, “and have sketched out the third of the series.”

“But...”

“Think about it Joe. We’re both obviously taking some time off, heading to Denver. No one’s to know why or how long or anything really. If I’m still writing, I’m still here. I plan to send the manuscripts through Danny,” meaning her ex roommate.

“With your old apartment the return address,” I nodded. “But why would he keep it? I thought the whole thing with William...?”

“I gave him the money I made with the lobby to keep the apartment. He doesn’t have to stay there.”

“Just keep the address valid.”

“Yep, and check the mail each day or so.”

“Like you haven’t disappeared.”

“Until I do. And I guess the Brain Trust will handle that however they want.”

Both the receptionist and Scott returned about the same time, the receptionist with a tray with paper cups full of coffee, and cream and sugar in their containers, setting it down on a coffee table.

“Thanks,” I said and prepared my coffee, a cream and sugar added. Emily preferred two of each.

“There’s a small room beside the conference room,” said Scott.

“Not needed,” Emily replied apologetically.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Three members of the publishing house waited for us in the small conference room, all three wearing glasses like it was part of the uniform, something about the effect of studious reading. Otherwise they couldn’t look more different. An older, thickset brunette woman on the cusp of middle age wore a blouse buttoned to her neck and a long skirt, her hair in a loose bun reminded me of a classic school marm, her broad serious face with a small upturned nose at the center couldn’t be described as attractive, but neither was she ugly. Beside her sat a gangly blonde man with a sketch of a mustache and goatee as if he were too young to grow anything more substantial looking disheveled even in his suit and tie and uncomfortable. An older man, looking at least in his sixties, of medium build and height though his presence made him seem bigger, thick gray hair on his head, well coifed, his outfit of blue jeans and chambray shirt perhaps setting off his cool blue eyes looked as if it were casual Friday or something. He had the only true grin in the room.

He stood and lifted his hand. “I’m Jack, the publisher. You must be Emily, as beautiful in person as you are on the page.”

“Thank you,” Emily smiled and shook the man’s hand.

“Joe,” I introduced myself, also shaking his hand, his a bit too firm for my taste as if showing off his power.

“Well, I wanted to meet our new genius. I leave you in the capable hands of my employees,” and, after patting Scott on the shoulder, Jack left the room.

“Was that intimidation?” Emily asked.

“No. Sorry. He’s just like that,” said Scott.

“Have a seat,” the woman requested. “I’m Jen, the house counsel.” She handed Scott a document.

“And you are?” Emily asked the young blond man.

“Uhm, Jeremy Katzwinkle,” he stuttered. “You seemed to require my presence.”

“You don’t seem much older than me,” Emily pointed out.

“Twenty-three,” he informed her. “I’m afraid my head grew faster than my body.”

The two laughed.

“Graduated early?” Emily asked.

Jeremy nodded. “Skipped a couple grades. I’m sorry if I appear a bit nervous. It’s because I am. Normally they keep me hidden in my cage.”

“You’re charming,” Emily disagreed. “Have you read my manuscript?”

“I have.”

“Tell me what you wish to change.”

“Everything?”

“Yes please.”

While the two discussed the book I asked Scott if I could see the contract and he obliged. “Four books?” I noticed.

“Depending on sales,” Scott pointed out. “Only if sales reach beyond cost.”

“For each?”

“It definitely wasn’t a boilerplate contract,” said Jen. “Normally we expect some promotion on the writer’s part. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t do the usual tour what with her beauty and everything.”

“My fiancée and I are both rather adventurous,” I made up, “and have plans to tour the world in a rather unorthodox manner. Only recently have our finances reached our ambitions.”