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She barely flipped through it. “You know we don’t take unsolicited manuscripts.”
“I know. But I think this is worth looking at.”
She shrugged, handing the book back to me. “We’re already swamped with books, and to be honest, I don’t see anything that special about this. How many people are interested in Alexander the Great?”
Usually I would back down at this point, muttering that was right and retreating to my corner. But Ryan’s insidious, unwanted voice whispered, “I don’t believe for a second you could be scared of anyone.” “It’s really well done. But if you’re not interested... Would you mind if I talked to the author?” At the request, my nerves started up a can-can line.
Gretchen frowned at me like I was crazy. “What do you mean? Talk about what?”
“I think it has a lot of potential.” I folded my hands being my back. My throat was dry, but I kept my gaze straight. “The whole notion is smart, and could be done for all sorts of figures, and historical periods. I just—would like to talk to the author about it.”
Gretchen leaned back in her chair. “And then what are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure. But I’d be interested in working with the author, perhaps to build a website, which I think, due to the popularity of similar sites, would be very popular. And I’d like to help her focus her angle.”
Gretchen still regarded me as though I was a strange, foreign bug, and then she sighed. “I can’t stop you from looking up a person online, reading her excerpts, and contacting her that way,” she said slowly. “But no Maples&Co employee contacts authors we don’t plan to represent.”
I clutched the manuscript to my chest, thinking furiously. “Okay. Of course not. That’s good to know.” I backed out of the office, shaking, before she could withdraw her implicit agreement. Once out of sight, I breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn’t told me it was illegal to contact the author. She might think it stupid and a waste of time, but I could convince her otherwise. Done well, this would be a book she wanted, and a book she wanted might land me a job. I started to grin. It might be only the germ of an idea, but at least I had taken action. As least I was going to try.
That evening, I took my standard route home, walking down the Slope and resisting chocolate covered pretzels from Duane Reade, coffee from Dunkin Donuts and take-out from hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurants. But I stalled outside one of the local Irish pubs, staring in at the widescreen TV. Inside, fans in black and crimson toasted each other with foamy pints under low hanging yellow lights. I pulled my coat tighter, gloved hands shoved into pockets as I watched Leopards fight Dolphins under the warm Miami sun. I watched and watched and watched, and the moment the camera focused on Ryan’s face, eye black underlining his farseeing gaze, I turned and hurried on.
* * *
The author’s name was Alexandra Wilson, and she lived in Chicago. She sounded astonished when I called her up. “I’d love to talk to you about it.”
I’d told her this is my email, but I wanted to make sure we were clear. “You do understand that this has nothing to do with Maples&Co. But I do think you have a really good manuscript, and I’d be interested in doing a—a consultation.”
“Oh.” Now she sounded younger than I’d expected. “Really? That would be great. Does that cost money?”
Good question. “Er—no.” Was that the wrong answer? I needed money, and people probably did charge for editing services, but I had contacted her, not the other way around.
“Well, great. I’m actually going to be in New York next week. I’d love to meet with you.”
I spent the next week researching similar titles to Alexa Wilson’s. I studied formatting and designs. I ran through the manuscript with a red pen, scratching out adverbs left and right, sti
cking in notes, fact-checking each article.
“I don’t get it.” Eva wrinkled her nose at me one evening. She sprawled on the couch, chain watching Gilmore Girls, while I lay on the carpet with manuscript pages spread out before me. “So what if you help this lady make her book amazing? How does that help you?”
“I don’t know. I hope that if I make it ship-shape, Gretchen will take it.”
“Well, and what does that get you? Didn’t you say you guys also have agents? If you do all this work for this woman, why don’t you just be her agent and get that commission?”
I paused. “Huh. Good idea, except I’m not an agent. I don’t have any credentials or anything.”
“So?” She folded her legs. “You must know how to do it. Don’t you read the contracts? In acting, it’s all about knowing people, and you already know your editor, and I bet you know the competition, too.”
I thought about it. The legality of taking a book from the slush pile and subbing it around seemed shady. Then again, what did I have to lose? “I’d thought about bringing it back to my editor, but if she doesn’t want it, who the hell knows? I might as well. I do know people, and an agent gets at least fifteen percent.”
Eva was silent for a moment. “All right. I have to ask. You’ve been totally aggressive and fierce this week. What’s going on?”
“Maybe I’m always fierce.”
“Yeah. No. And this isn’t, like, mama-bear fierce, but more soulless-corporate person fierce.”
Affront straightened my spine. “I haven’t done a single soulless corporate thing!”
“No, but I can imagine you doing something.”
