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“Well, don’t get too over-the-top excited about it,” I said. “I could be a total train wreck on camera.”
“I’m not worried at all,” he said with a smile. “I’ll see if they will give you a little extra time at the end of the show to do some Q&A with the audience. And I’ll make sure to send over enough books so that everyone in the audience will get a copy of your new bestseller. Maybe they’ll let you sign the books after the show.”
“More good news,” I said, shaking my head. I hated book signings, even though they were a necessary part of the process. “So, when is the taping?”
“Monday morning,” Graham said as he dabbed wine from the corners of his lips with the tips of his manicured fingers. “They’ll send a car for you at 7 A.M. and you’ll go straight into hair and makeup. The show airs at 8 A.M. and your segment will be around 8:45.”
“7 A.M… Fuck, Graham, you know I don’t get up before noon,” I said.
“It’s a morning show, my darling,” he said with an unsympathetic smirk. “Just take it easy this weekend. No big parties. No drunken orgies. No binge drinking.”
“I wish,” I said, rolling my eyes. I finished the wine and held out my glass. “The thi
ngs I do for my art. And for you. More insanely expensive wine, please.”
Graham smiled as he stood up and offered me his hand. “It’s tough being you, I’m sure. Come on, let’s see if a nice filet mignon can make you feel better.”
“Who are the other entrepreneurs that will be on the show?” I asked as he led me into the dining room, where his cook had set out a wonderful dinner for the two of us.
“The producer didn’t know for sure,” he said, holding out my chair. “The whole thing seemed very last minute. I got the impression that they were hustling to get guests on because the guy from Shark Tank canceled. She mentioned someone flying in from Los Angeles, but I didn’t catch the name.”
“Well, at least I don’t have to fly clear across country for a two-minute interview,” I said, holding out my glass for a refill. Graham refilled both our glasses, then tapped his glass up to mine.
“Here’s to a stellar appearance,” he said with a broad smile. “And to your next bestseller.”
CHAPTER FOUR: Chad
“Welcome to New York, sir!” the doorman at the front entrance of the Mark Hotel said as he held open the door for me.
“Thanks,” I said as I walked through the doors and across the black and white marble floor toward the front desk. A young Asian woman standing behind the desk smiled at me. “Hello, sir, may I help you?”
“Chad Walters,” I said, stepping up to the desk and letting the carryon bag slide from my shoulder to the floor. “I should have a reservation.”
“Yes, sir, one moment.” Her thin fingers flew across the computer keys looking for the reservation. She frowned at the screen for a moment, then looked up and smiled, as if she realized who I was.
“Everything okay?” I asked, resting my arms on the counter. I glanced at my watch. I’d been on the plane for eight hours. Even though I had flown first class all the way, my back was screaming for a massage and I desperately needed a shower and a drink. If this reservation was fucked up, I was gonna go ballistic on some poor soul.
She kept smiling at me. “Oh yes, Mr. Walters, I have your reservation right here. We have the penthouse suite all ready for you sir. Your suite has amazing panoramic views of the city skyline and Central Park, and of course, a staircase that leads to your own private outdoor terrace, a conservatory, a fully stocked wet bar, and a library lounge. It also looks like you have requested a car and driver for your stay.”
“You sound like a brochure,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
The smile didn’t break, but she pushed her eyebrows up. “Sir?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Anything else?”
She batted her long eyelashes at me and pursed her lips. “Is there anything else you need, sir? Anything I can do for you?”
I smiled. She was hitting on me. Fucking groupies. They were everywhere. “No, not at the moment,” I said, holding out my hand. “Just need my key.”
She tried not to look too disappointed. “Yes, here you are, sir.” She slid the key into my hand, then picked up a slip of paper and scribbled her name and number on it. She folded the paper and slid it across the counter to me. “That’s my number, in case you change your mind. I’m here till 6 A.M.”
“Good to know,” I said, picking up the slip of paper and tucking it into my back pocket. I picked up my bag and smiled at her. You never know, I might get in the mood for a little Chinese takeout later tonight (okay, that joke was too corny even for me).
“The elevator is across the lobby and down the hall,” she said, pointing. “You’ll need to insert your key to access the penthouse. Please let me know if you have any other… needs.”
“I will,” I said with a smile. “I definitely will.”
* * *
