“I kind of figured you’d done your time in the public eye for a while,” he said, chuckling. “Need me to send a car for you?”
“I can get a cab,” I said. “I’m not that much of a celebrity.”
“The hell you’re not,” he snorted. “If your next book sells like we think it will your lovely face will be plastered on posters and billboards across the country. You might as well face it, my dear, you are a bona fide celebrity whether you like it or not.”
“Whatever!” I said, cutting him off. I wasn’t comfortable with my celebrity and Graham knew it, as meager as that celebrity might be. “Need me to bring anything?”
“Just yourself,” Graham said. “See you around eight.”
I stared at the phone for a moment after he hung up, wondering what Graham wanted to talk to me about. I prayed it wasn’t about Mark. That was a topic I had no desire to discuss with Graham or anyone else.
* * *
“Glad you could make it,” Graham said, hugging me as I walked through the door of his uptown apartment. Graham did very well as an executive for Roland House. His place was larger than mine and much nicer. Graham had hit the daily double: he came from old money and banked one hell of a paycheck from Roland. His good fortune was well-deserved. Graham Elliot was a good guy in what could be a very shitty business. He’d saved my bacon on more than one occasion. He was the best friend this writer would ever have.
“Did you enjoy the dinner last night? Roland House certainly knows how to blow money on large parties that no one wants to attend,” he said as he handed me a glass of wine. He nodded at the glass. “That’s an ‘84 Chateau Laffite Rothschild. Don’t waste a drop.”
“I’ll certainly try not to,” I said, smiling as I took a sip. The wine was smooth going down and left a delicious plum and blackberry taste lingering on my tongue. Graham always had the best wines. He was a wine enthusiast who loved to travel and collect wines from every corner of the world. Some of them were too exotic for my taste, but the Rothschild was like drinking nectar.
“I couldn’t wait to get out of there last night, I can tell you that,” I confessed as I took another sip. “And Carla… ugh! I can’t stand that woman! I tell her no and she keeps coming back like a rabid dog.”
“Most people can’t stand Carla,” Graham said with a smile. “But she is very good at her job, one of the best PR reps in the business.” He stared at me for a moment, then brought his glass to his lips. “I could tell you were ready to get the hell out of there. Too long away from our cave, little hermit?”
“Something like that,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Although I’d like to think of myself more as Cinderella in the tower than a hermit living in a cave.”
“Fair enough,” he said, extending his arm. “Follow me, princess.”
I looped my arm through his and followed him into the spacious living room, which was all glass along the exterior wall, offering a breathtaking view of the city at night. I settled in on the sofa and let my eyebrows go up behind the wine glass. “So, why am I here?”
He smiled like the Cheshire Cat. Little alarms started ringing in my head. He said, “Good Morning Manhattan is looking for someone to fill a guest spot on an upcoming segment on young entrepreneurs. Mainly a fluff segment focusing on people who started with nothing and made it to the top of their game. Their goal is to get your basic insider tips for other entrepreneurs taking the same path, you know, something along those lines.”
“And how does this have anything to do with me?” I asked the question even though I already knew what Graham was thinking.
“They were thinking—and I was re
ally hoping since the publicity would be incredible for the new book—that you might be interested in being one of their young entrepreneurs.”
I shot him a panicked look. I hated speaking in public and Graham knew it. It was my biggest fear because I literally melted down when speaking to more than a few people at a time. My hands shook, my voice quivered, my knees went weak. I could barely make it through a book reading and had to force my hand not to tremble during book signings. And now he wanted me to go on live TV and talk about what a big success I was? Holy crap...
“I don’t know, Graham,” I said quickly as I felt my mouth going dry despite the wine. “I mean, I don’t really consider myself an entrepreneur. I write books for a living…”
“Right. You write books and you travel and live a lifestyle most people only dream of living, but at the end of the day you run a very successful business. Think about it,” he said, narrowing his dark eyes at me. “You could share your tips about building a successful publishing business, marketing, blogging, even discuss some of your failures, not that you’ve had many, and… well… I kind of already told them you’d do it.”
“You what?” I stammered, nearly dropping the wine glass. “Graham! You cannot be serious!”
He frowned to let me know that he was. “Before you freak out, let me add that I also convinced them to give you time to plug the new book, Pleasing Him. The show’s producer has read an advance copy and loved it. Not only that, she told me that she read it in one sitting and it got her so steamed up she attacked her poor husband in the middle of the night.”
“Wow, my book as foreplay… who knew…”
“The point is, my dear teller of dirty tales,” he said, scolding me with his eyes. “The exposure for Pleasing Him on GMM will help propel it to the top of the bestseller lists. They have a huge audience. And I’m sure their viewers—and all the struggling writers who watch—would love to hear how you come up with the ideas for your stories, especially the story in Pleasing Him. That story is... well… pardon my French… fucking hot.”
He made me blush without meaning to. “Really?”
“Zoe, you are the epitome of a success author and entrepreneur. Your books are your products. You are the business. You are well qualified to talk about the subject. You in the one-percent of authors who actually make a great living writing their own books.”
“Maybe…”
He held out his glass, extended a finger at me, and let his head slowly bob. “I think you have a lot more to talk about than you think. I might be able to convince them to do a longer segment on you. Maybe even a fully produced piece. There are a million questions readers and other writers have for successful authors such as yourself. Hell, you’re leaving for Costa Rica, for crying out loud, to research and write a book! Who else do you know that gets to travel to exotic places and gets paid to lounge by the pool and write? People love hearing how dreams come true. They are looking for that magic piece that will bring them success. Some tiny piece of the puzzle and you of all people, Zoe Maxwell, can show them the way.”