“I’ll be there,” Bree replied. “FYI? Paladin did do business with Duchaine.”
“Good to know, I guess,” he said with little enthusiasm. “Gotta go.”
When Bree returned to the kitchen, Luster was pouring himself a second glass of wine. His phone was dark.
“Nellie had to go, unfortunately,” he said. “Her mother phoned. She said you can call her back tomorrow if you need to. Another round?”
He was holding the bottle up toward her. Bree felt odd about something Nellie had said but couldn’t quite put her finger on it. What is it? Does it matter?
“Why not?” Bree said finally, and held out her glass.
Luster gave her a generous dose. “How does organic Chinese sound?”
“Perfect,” she said. Her cell phone buzzed, alerting her to a text. She thumbed the screen, saw it was from Addie Wells, and opened it. It contained an attachment titled “Write Me a True Story, Family Man.”
CHAPTER 97
Washington, DC
AT TEN MINUTES TO nine on the morning of the auction, Lisa Moore lounged on a couch, sipping espresso and watching Suzanne Liu pace back and forth across the living room of the Airbnb Moore had been renting in Kalorama.
“Are you always like this before an auction?” Moore asked calmly.
Liu looked at her as if she were mad. “Of course. Everyone is when something is hot like this.”
“But you’re the agent now, not the editor,” Moore said, putting her coffee down.
“All the more reason to be biting my nails. This is my first time on the other side of the table, Lisa.”
Getting up and walking toward Liu, Moore said, “So you should be even chiller. You said it yourself last night—we’re holding an ace-high royal flush. Six different publishers said they intend to bid.”
The former editor shook her head. “You don’t understand, Lisa. Sometimes projects get too hot. For whatever reason, the suits start thinking the price is going to be too high for them to even bother bidding or that the writer isn’t seasoned enough to execute the narrative in a bestselling manner. In that case, we could get six different no-bids in the next hour.”
Moore came around behind her and started massaging her neck. “That won’t happen, Suzanne. I guarantee they’ll bid. How could they not? It’s too juicy, too delicious, the way it takes Thomas to his knees. Everyone loves to see the big man fall, don’t they? And besides, I’ll have you as an editor to guide me.”
Leaning back into her lover’s hands, Liu said, “Everyone does adore seeing an a-hole like Thomas brought low. And you’re right. You have me as a guide.”
“That’s my girl.”
Liu’s laptop dinged.
Liu pulled away from Moore, mild terror on her face as she hurried to the machine.
“You would have been terrible in combat,” Moore said, sighing.
“I’d have a nervous breakdown in combat,” Liu agreed and looked at an e-mail that had just come in. “Damn it!”
“What?”
Liu was trembling when she turned. “I told you it might get too rich for some people’s blood.”
“Which house?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she said, stalking away. “We need someone to believe in us here. We need someone to step forward so I can do my magic.”
“You’ll get it. We’ll get it. We haven’t gone through what we’ve gone through not to get the brass ring, Suzanne.”
“Publishing can be a fickle, subjective business. I’ve told you that.”
Moore gritted her teeth. “Have more faith. What’s the worst that can happen? We don’t get a deal and we self-publish on—”
Liu held up her hands in horror. “Don’t even say it!”
Ding!
Liu ran over and was fumbling with the trackpad when—ding!
She opened the new e-mails, her eyes widening. She spun around, grinning wildly, and pumped her fist.
“Game on!” she cried. “Two seven-figure offers!”
The fax machine began churning out paper. Liu grabbed those pages and whooped with joy. She did a little shimmy and then jigged toward Moore. “We got ourselves a serious bidding war, lover!”
Moore took her agent in her arms, and kissed her hungrily. “Of course we do, little girl. Didn’t I tell you if we paid attention to details, things would work out for us in a big, big way?”
CHAPTER 98
TWO HOURS LATER, SUZANNE LIU and Lisa Moore strode triumphantly down Water Street in DC’s trendy Navy Yard district.
“I feel like we’ve slain Goliath,” Liu said breathlessly. “I’m serious.”
“You didn’t think they’d go that high?” Moore asked.
“You did?”
“When four of the six were in the game, I figured we were heading right in the ballpark of where we ended up.”
“Maybe you should be the agent,” Liu said.
“Where would that leave you? Writing?” Moore said it a little snidely.
Liu stiffened and said, “Don’t forget, that proposal would not have been in the shape it was without my guiding hand, lover.”
“No doubt. And I deeply appreciate it, little girl.”
They arrived at Osteria Morini, Moore’s favorite lunch spot in the nation’s capital. The ma?tre d’ recognized her immediately.
“Business or celebration, Ms. Moore?” he asked.
“Definitely celebration, Brian. I’d like a bottle of your finest prosecco brought to the table.”
“Magnifico,” Brian said, beaming.
He led them to their table along the wall, handed them two menus, and promised to have their prosecco brought right away.
“Good food here?” Liu asked.
“Brilliant cuisine,” Moore said, as if Liu should have known. “The brodetto, an Adriatic-style fish stew, is incredible.”
“Sounds a little rich for lunch. I’d have to take a nap later.”
“I was actually hoping we might find our way into bed afterward.”
Liu’s smile turned saucy. “That does sound like a delicious dessert.”
Their waiter brought over the prosecco packed in ice in a silver bucket, made a nice show of popping the cork, and poured the wine into two flutes.
“I understand a celebration is under way,” he said.
Liu gestured at Moore. “I just sold her first book.”
“Yes? This is fantastic!”
“Thank you,” Moore said, blushing a little.
“Can I make recommendations?”
Liu said, “I heard about the brodetto. Sounds a little rich?”
“Then the branzino, seared Mediterranean sea bass.”
“Perfect.”
“That does sound good,” Moore said. “Make it two.”
The waiter made note of it, bowed slightly, and walked away; Moore raised her champagne flute and said, “To many, many more of these kinds of celebrations.”
“Hear, hear,” Liu said, clinking her glass against Moore’s. “And to many, many more books sold.”
“And auctioned to Hollywood,” Moore said. She drank deeply.
“Of course,” her agent said and she stared into her lover’s eyes as she drank from her own glass. “I have a feeling we’re going to need another bottle, don’t you think?”