Reservation (Preservation Series) (3 page)

“I want them to pay.”

“I know.”

“But I respect your choice.” I kissed her forehead, resigned. I didn’t say what else I’d been thinking: That I’d absolutely lose it if I ran into Burgess or his scumbag partner, Eric, on the streets of Seattle ever again.

I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d bump into them at a coffee house one morning, after they’d been released from prison or probation. If they’d somehow find their way back into the publishing business and try to take advantage of another young, attractive client. But I was certain Kate had thought the same things through plenty of times, and so there was no use bringing up what she clearly didn’t want to discuss.

She’d remained adamant about not pressing charges, not attending any court hearings, and avoiding any further involvement. She didn’t even want to know how long they would be sentenced, the amount of possible bail, or any other details that the officer and case worker had offered to discuss with her on more than one occasion. She wanted no updates, no nothing. Had wiped her hands of the incident entirely. And although I didn’t like it, I understood it. I understood
her
, and the desire she had to leave the past alone while she focused on the present.

Still, a part of me was even more enraged at what had happened because I knew that Kate had been abused before, both emotionally and physically, by some piece of shit ex-boyfriend. I’d learned this from one of her first writing assignments in my class, and only recently had she decided to open up to me about it at all. It was a detail I’d initially wondered about, whether it was fictitious or drawn from real-life experience, and she’d finally given me the answer. Although her writing couldn’t quite be called a memoir; she’d added in some fiction, too. Her dad hadn’t really been absent from her life because he was in jail, but he
did
abandon her and her mother, and that didn’t sit well with me, either. How could it?

So I couldn’t deny it—the knowledge of her mistreatment before the Mark and Eric incident only added salt to the wound. I couldn’t fathom anyone hurting a woman like that, let alone anyone hurting Kate.

“Thank you,” she whispered, placing a feather-light kiss on my chin. “By the time I return to Seattle, this will all be behind me. I won’t wander the streets afraid to see their faces. If I do see them some day, so be it. I’ll hold my head high and keep walking. Anything else just gives them too much power. Besides,” she looked at her left hand as she played with her ring, “I doubt I was the first one...the only one they tried that on. I know it doesn’t make it right, I mean, I know it’s disturbing to think about, but it’s the truth. Who knows how many more there were before me. Given their solid reputation in the business, I think it’s pretty clear they knew how to play their cards well. Either they got away with it more than once, or there were other victims like me who fled and never looked back. They must have been good at covering their tracks.”

I clenched my molars together and gave her a stiff nod, knowing she was probably right. I hadn’t told her, but when I’d spoken to one of the officers on the phone one afternoon, he’d confirmed that Eric was, in fact, married. With two kids at home.

Sick.

And upon doing my own research on Mark, a man I used to consider a close acquaintance in college, I’d discovered a couple sexual harassment complaints filed against him at work—a secretary and some woman from accounting. Nothing ever came from them, though, so I’d assumed he’d paid to have the charges swept under the rug, rather than fighting them in the courtroom. It seemed to be a classic case of a business scrambling to reach a confidential settlement before a lawsuit resulted.

A heavy shudder rolled from my head to my feet, and my jaw still ticked as I thought about those scumbags.

None of that mattered anymore, though. Not if Kate was committed to putting it all behind her. I wouldn’t be the one to keep dredging all that shit up for her. If she wanted a fresh start, I’d do everything in my power to fucking give it to her.

“You’re right. And I understand, Kate. Really, baby. So,” I exhaled loudly, ready to change the subject. “How about we have a kickass breakfast and take a swim before I have to leave this afternoon?
Hhhmm
?”

“That sounds perfect,” she purred against my shoulder. No. The sound of her naked feet padding across the wooden floor, the sound of her panting and calling out my name as I make her come in this lush bed...now
those
are perfect sounds.

Throwing her hands above her head, she rolled sideways and stretched out like a cat, then pulled herself from the bed to make a lazy, sexy stroll toward the bathroom. I folded my arms behind my head and watched her slink away, soaking up the image of the early morning sunlight caressing her bare skin. Little shadows danced over her shoulders and thighs, lighting up slices of her milky skin as she moved.

What a sunrise.

When I heard the faucet turn on in the bathroom, I stood to my feet and broke myself from the spell.

***

Nirvana’s “You Know You’re Right” beat my eardrums to a pulp as our plane touched down at SeaTac. I hated having to pull the earbuds away when we taxied to our gate, but it had to be done. Time to go back to the real world. Hell, absolutely nothing was more invigorating than some classic Cobain pumping into my veins. I was a lucky bastard being born and raised in an iconic musical city, and I knew it. Not everyone appreciated it, though. For some, it wasn’t even on their radar.

And that was a damn shame.

Speaking of music, I was long overdue for a show at Easy Street Records. It had been weeks since I’d checked out some live music, and I was feeling deprived. It would be even weirder now going without Kate. We’d made it a habit, especially since Carter and Dean’s band, The Hellions, started playing there regularly.

Damn it all. How was I going to be away from her for so long?

That musing was interrupted when my phone chimed, ringing obnoxiously when I stood to my feet to retrieve my carry-on from the overhead. I’d just turned the power back on, what, two minutes ago? And already, I was being bombarded with telephone calls.

And so it begins.

I snapped the pull handle up on my suitcase and started down the aisle, moving at a quicker pace as everyone filed off the plane. Not only were messages starting to pour in from my parents, who I hadn’t seen since things ended with me and Jamie, but Bob Hall, Neda—my agent—and all sorts of people from Simon and Warden had been calling, trying to make appointments for this and that. On top of that, my phone’s inbox kept pinging with new e-mails from students, with questions about the last exam before finals, no doubt. I guess it came with the territory while I juggled the job I was getting ready to leave and the one I was about to begin.

“Yeah? Ryan here.”

“Are you back?” Bob’s voice filled the line.

“Yup, just landed, actually.” My tone flared with irritation, but I tried to keep it at bay. This guy was publishing my first book and was about to be my new boss, after all.

“Good. I know we’re not getting together until Friday, but I need you for another meeting before then to meet with Danny, your new PR king. He’s new to our house, but he knows his stuff. Knows how to handle a talent like you.”

“A talent like what?”

Bob laughed. “Oh come on, Ryan. You must know what you’re in here for, now that the film rights are on the table. You’re a young, good-looking bastard, and that means dollar signs. An advantage, for sure. The media is ready to eat you alive and the book isn’t even on the shelves yet. It’s unheard of. You’re officially the most valuable name on our roster, now trumping Henson. And that’s saying something.”

When I reached the concourse, I strode over to the nearest Starbucks, in desperate need of caffeine to combat the time zone change. “Danny, as in Neda’s husband, right? Wait—am I missing something? What does that have to do with anything? I’m just the author, not a cast member. I’m invisible.”

“Yes, Neda’s husband. They’re Seattle’s agent and publicist power couple, and I’m thrilled to have Danny on board. He’ll be coordinating with Neda to pull your image together. And no, you’re not just the author. You’re going to be much more than that, brother, and you’ll be far from invisible. You’re going to be a brand.”

“I’m a writer.”

“Yes, and you’re about to be a celebrity. There’s a lot to discuss.”

“Bob,” I covered the phone for a second to put in my order for an Espresso Macchiato, “you’ve lost me, man. What the hell are you talking about? I thought the author wasn’t supposed to play a part in all of this. With the movie stuff, I mean. A few appearances, maybe meeting the cast, and those sorts of things, okay, but why would I be in the spotlight?”

“Normally you wouldn’t. Well, not much, really. This sort of thing all depends on how deep your involvement is with the creative process and whatnot. This is really Danny and Neda’s forte, so they’ll have to be the ones to discuss it all with you, but from what I understand, in your case, the execs have been paying attention to the buzz surrounding you, and they want a piece of the pie. There’s real...
enthusiasm
amongst the female demographic where you’re concerned.” He chuckled. “So the execs
want
you involved, got it? They’re going to want you on set, want you to be there every step of the way. Your hype is their hype. You’re going to help make them more money. So, we’re going to take a whole new approach with you, place you in the public light, have you interact heavily with your readers and soon-to-be fans. You’re going to act like you’re a star, and the public will naturally react to what you put out there. It’s all about creating an image. It’ll be good for business, from all sorts of angles. Trust me, things are about to blow up, and you’ll be loving every minute of it.”

I winced a bit at the sound of that, my coffee cup scalding my hand as I worked to readjust the sleeve at the counter. Me? A public figure?

That was hilarious.

A dry laugh bubbled up from my chest. “You’re telling me you want to bank off my good looks as a sales tactic? Is this what the publishing industry has come to? You can’t be serious.”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. This was all Danny’s idea. I just happen to think it’s brilliant. We’re footing the bill for him to work his magic. His job is to maximize and enhance your work in the best possible light, and well, this is one way he wants to do that. I won’t stop him if he thinks it’ll sell books. And it’ll make the film execs happy. Everybody wins.”

“Bob...”

“Like I said, a lot to discuss. Look, just come in and chat and we’ll work it all out. We won’t force your hand on anything, Ryan, we’ll just present the options. I hope you’ll consider getting on board with this, though, because this will benefit everyone—you, me, the house, your readers.”

“Okay, we’ll talk. When do I need to meet this Danny guy?”

“I told him to meet you tomorrow, for dinner. Can you make it or do you have classes?”

“I have two morning classes. I can make it.”

“Sounds good. Meet him at Chez Danyele at 6 p.m. It’s on the corner of 3rd and Pine.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there. Okay, I’ll meet him. Talk to you later.” I hung up and slipped my phone away, finding myself staring at my espresso in a daze. A man excused himself as he pushed past me at the end of the counter, and I realized it was probably a good idea to move out of the way of the stream of people flowing in my direction from the cash register. Wheeling my suitcase with me, I took off toward the public transportation area, thankful I didn’t check any bags. Exhaustion was starting to wear at me, and the last thing I felt like doing was hanging around the baggage claim carousel for who knew how long.

As I stepped outside to grab a cab, my over-tired mind was churning with all sorts of questions. First, what in the hell did I get myself into? Sure, I was thrilled about the book deal and all the excitement surrounding it. Shit, I’d dreamt about this. Thought for sure I’d never have another chance after the deal I lost the day things went down with Jamie. Not on such a massive scale like this, anyway. Self-publishing wasn’t an option for me. I wasn’t a business person, didn’t have the skills to be a full-time marketer and entrepreneur. It just didn’t suit me and I had no intention of taking on that kind of workload when I could be spending all my time writing. So traditional publishing was my route of choice.

But Bob and this Danny dude wanted me to play celebrity? They wanted to bank off my appearance and sell me to the highest bidder? Neda, my agent, had taken me on when I signed on with Bob to help handle my dealings at Simon and Warden and my foreign rights negotiations. She was responsible for landing me the movie deal and was handling the business for the film rights. I loved working with her, but now her publicist husband was stepping in and the direction he had in mind for my career was already setting me on edge. I tipped my head back against the cab seat, suddenly feeling like a piece of meat.

A sell out. Is that what I was? Was that what I was agreeing to here?

One of the biggest things I’d always found appealing about being a writer was that it was the best kind of recognition to have, if you were going to have any at all. Probably the least invasive out of all the artistic professions. You didn’t have to get up on a stage, didn’t have to smile for cameras on a red carpet, or see your face splattered all over the tabloids. Except for book signing events, some handshakes, and a few low-key autographs, you had the best kind of anonymity. Could share your art on even a large scale, yet still enjoy your privacy. Hell, I couldn’t imagine not having the privacy that I enjoyed so much.