Page 144 of The First Gentleman

CHAPTER 140

Manhattan

T he morning news comes on my car radio as I’m searching for a parking space near Madison Square Park, just below Twenty-Third Street.

As soon as I hear the first few words of the intro, I turn it up.

“And now, from Washington, DC, John Agro, the man sometimes known as Jack Doohan—among other aliases—has agreed to turn state’s evidence in the case against Burton Pearce, implicating the former White House chief of staff in a web of murderous conspiracies. Meanwhile, former Providence Mafia captain Tony Romero is due to stand trial next month for the murder of New England Patriots cheerleader Suzanne Bonanno more than eighteen years ago, a crime for which First Gentleman Cole Wright was convicted, then formally exonerated.”

Sounds like I might finally have my ending!

A van pulls out of a space just ahead of me and I swoop in to park against the curb.

Perfect timing. I promised to be here at ten, and I’m just one minute late.

I head into an office building across from the park.

The lobby has a worn marble floor and decorative pillars.

Old-school New York.

The elevator doors look like burnished bronze.

When I get to the sixth floor, I head down the hall to suite 605, the office of my literary agent, Marcia Dillion.

After Nottingham chief Reginald Hamilton canceled the contract with me and Garrett, Marcia started her new career.

She tells me ex-editors make the best literary agents, which is one way she justifies her 15 percent commission.

Fine by me. She earns every penny.

I see her waving from her office door like she can’t wait to see me.

Marcia looks ten years younger.

Being her own boss obviously agrees with her.

I appreciate the enthusiastic welcome and the big bear hug she gives me.

She puts her arm around my shoulders.

“They’re fantastic!” she whispers in my ear.

“What are?”

“The pages you sent last week! I love how this manuscript of yours is shaping up.”

She leads me through a reception area and past a conference room where two earnest-looking young women sit tapping on laptops.

“Black coffee, right?” asks Marcia.

“That is how I take it. Thanks for remembering.”

She ushers me into her private office, which boasts a spectacular view of the park.

A fragrant flower arrangement rests on a table in front of several elegant bookshelves.

We sit down on her leather sofa.

I can’t wait to tell her what I just heard on the radio.

“Guess what? Agro is talking to the feds!”

“The creep who worked for Pearce?”

“Yep. And Tony Romero is going on trial in a few weeks.”

“Will you be there?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Marcia’s expression turns evasive.

She starts wringing her hands.

I love Marcia, but I know her tells.

“What did you do now?”

She blurts it out.

“I sent out the first few chapters to a select group of editors. A little tease, just to test the waters. I had them sign NDAs, of course.”

“Marcia! We agreed. No leaks!” I’m mad for only a second.

Then, of course, I have to ask: “What did they think? People like it?”

“They love it.” Marcia beams at me.

“And I didn’t even mention the interviews with the president and Cole Wright. Trust me, when we go to auction, we’ll have publishers and film studios drooling.”

“An auction?” I ask, but Marcia keeps talking, so fast I can barely keep up.

“You and your book, my dear, are going to be the subject of a massive bidding war! I expect we’re looking at a price well north of a million.”

“That’s amazing,” I say, trying to take in the news.

“But you know I have one condition. There’s one house that’s not allowed to buy, no matter how much they offer.”

“Let me guess,” says Marcia.

“Nottingham.”

“Right. For the way they undercut you and the way they tossed Garrett and me overboard.”

Marcia grins.

“Good. I’ll enjoy watching that English windbag Reginald Hamilton suffer the consequences!”

“One other thing. And this is important. Whoever we sign with, Garrett’s name comes first on the cover.”

Marcia nods, then reaches over and wraps her arms around me again.

“He’d be so, so proud of you, Brea.”

I hug her back.

“I hope so. I really do.”

I know I couldn’t be prouder of him.