I laughed at his enthusiasm, and misconception of my life. Lounge and write? Is that seriously what he thought I did? Sure. That’s all I do. My lounging life. I only wish.
“So, this is why you lured me over tonight? To get me to agree to go on Good Morning Manhattan? Because if there’s no food involved I’m going to be pissed.”
“There’s food, don’t worry,” he said with a smile. He let his eyes drift down to the wine glass in his hand. He swirled the wine and watched it go around the glass. “I also wanted to ask you about last night.”
I hid behind the glass, knowing what was coming. “What about it?”
“You left suddenly, like you couldn’t wait to get out of there. I know you hate those things, but you really seemed upset.”
I put on a happy face and sipped the wine like it was no big deal. “Sorry for rushing out like that, but it had been a long day and I really just wanted to get home where it was quiet. And get away from leeches like Andrew and Carla. People like that just bug me to no end.”
I hoped the lie was good enough to convince him to drop the subject. He knew Mark and I were on the rocks and so far, had shown the decency not to pry. Somehow, I felt that might be changing as he studied my face, looking for a crack in my armor.
“Are you sure that’s all it was,” he asked after a moment. He looked past me to stare out the window at the twinkling skyline to avoid looking into my eyes. “I saw Mark come out of the ladies’ room. I figured you two had been at it again.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, working up my best insulted face.
“Nothing,” he said, shrugging with his eyebrows, bringing the glass to his lips. He let his eyes swing back to mine. “So, can I tell the producer at GMM that you’ll do it? It would be great for the new book, and the backlist.”
I took a deep breath. Graham was a shrewd negotiator. I could either agree to do the show or he’d continue to press me about Mark. Son of a bitch was good, I had to give him that.
“Fine. Okay. I’ll do it.” My voice was less than enthusiastic, but Graham didn’t seem to care. If it was anyone other than Graham, I would have definitely said no freakin’ way. But Graham was my best friend, my mentor, and savior. He was the one who gave this struggling writer a chance all those years ago. He introduced me to my agent, got me my first publishing contract, bragged about me to critics, and was always looking out for me, even when he didn’t agree with my actions, like getting involved with Mark. His advice and guidance and connections had been just as important to my career as the writing. There was no way I could turn him down.
Graham held up his wine glass and smiled. “They are going to be over-the-top excited to hear you’ll be on the show! I literally can’t wait to share the good news!”
“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 things 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.