Because of You (3 page)

***

Nearly two months later, Joan Wilson called Jill. Even though the woman sounded upbeat, Jill, remembering Adam’s words, didn’t get her hopes up about having her book sold.

“Are you sitting down, Jill?”

“Actually, I am.”

“Good. Because I have the most wonderful news to tell you.”

“Did a publishing company offer to buy my book?” Jill asked, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

Joan Wilson actually giggled. “I’d say so. I just got you a three-book deal with an advance of $20,000.”

“What? How? Really?” Jill’s words came out in a rush as one.

“You, my girl, are on the way to being the next best-selling novelist.”

“I…I…I’m speechless. How is that possible?”

Joan Wilson laughed. “Our agency went gaga over your manuscript. We knew we had a winner. And so did several publishers.”

“Several publishers?”

“Yup. They bid for it. Your book is going to be hotter than hot.”

“So, which company will be publishing my book?”

“Sorry. I did manage to leave that essential fact out, didn’t I? It’s Barnaby and Sons.”

“Wow! They’re big! Aren’t they?”

“Yup. One of the biggest.”

“Umm…What do I do now?”

Joan Wilson laughed. “You’re going to meet your editor on Friday afternoon—if you’re free.”

“Free? Tell me where and when,” Jill replied.

“Slow down, girl, or else you’ll self-destruct before Friday. There’s a place called Bar American on 52
nd
Street. We’ll all meet there, say around one o’clock.”

“That’s fine. Do I need to bring anything?”

“Nope. Just yourself.”

“Looking forward to it,” Jill said as the phone call ended and she tried to slow her heartbeat down. She could have sworn it was doing backflips in her rib cage.

Chapter Five

Jill’s mind raced nearly the entire night before the meeting. She knew she was being silly, but first impressions were so important and she wanted to give her agent and editor a good one. She picked out her best suit to wear, making certain her purse and shoes matched perfectly. Even so, she was still nervous. It reminded her of her first job interview and how she had stuttered and sounded like a total idiot. Hopefully, she wouldn't repeat history.

***

Joan Wilson was waiting in front of the Bar American restaurant when Jill emerged from the taxi she'd taken from Penn Station. Joan didn't need to hold up a sign that read
agent
, because she looked every bit the part of one. She was a tall woman with shoulder-length dark hair, dressed in a tailored, blue suit, holding a leather messenger bag. Jill guessed the woman to be in her early thirties.

Jill walked up to her and said, “Hello. By any chance are you Joan Wilson?”

A warm smile appeared on the woman's face and she extended her hand. “Hello, Jill, I'm so glad to meet you.”

“Hey! You two! Don't start eating without me!”

A moment later, a short fireplug of a woman with light-brown hair, approximately Jill's age, came huffing and puffing to meet them. She was toting a large book bag that was almost as big as her.

“Hello, Robin,” Joan said. “This is Jill Stone. Jill, this is your editor, Robin Wycoff.”

Suddenly, Robin grabbed Jill and hugged her to her ample bosom, nearly deflating her lungs. “Boy, am I glad to meet you,” she told Jill, who didn't have to live in the borough of Brooklyn to recognize the fact that Robin came from there.

After being released, Jill replied, “Me, too.”

Joan had watched with amusement. She suggested, “Let's go inside and have some lunch.”

The inside of the restaurant resembled a bar with tables filled with patrons. Knowing how busy the place usually got, Joan had reserved a table. The women were seated and the waiter presented them with menus. Jill was still filled with nervous excitement and had nearly no appetite, but ordered the plate of the day, which was snapper, steamed in parchment. Joan ordered a Cobb salad and Robin a steak. All three women had the Vidalia onion soup as an appetizer.

During the meal Robin explained the process of how Jill's book would be published. “I intend to work very closely with you Jill, editing the manuscript. During this time, the creative services department will design the cover. Several months before the book gets published, we will start promoting it. By the time the book hits the bookshelves, everyone will be talking about it. That's our goal. We're very excited about your book.”

It was nearly 3 o'clock by the time they said goodbye. Joan Wilson was a very nice lady, but Robin Wycoff was a hoot. If she ever gave up editing, she could well become a standup comic.

***

The next several weeks of Jill's life centered around editing and doing rewrites of her novel. She worked very closely with Robin and often discussed the edits on the telephone as well as through e-mails. There were times when she nearly forgot to make dinner for Adam. Even though he wasn't always on time, he expected dinner to be waiting for him. However, Jill got so wrapped up with the edits that she was often unaware of the time. Sometimes, she even took off from work to work on them.

When Jill saw the cover of her novel for the first time with her name on it, her heart swelled with pride. It represented her unique achievement. For the first time in her life, Jill felt important. She was a somebody—not Adam’s wife or her parents’ daughter. She wasn't walking in someone’s shadow, she was casting her own.

And she couldn't wait to hold the book.

“What are you doing?” Adam said as he walked into the kitchen. “You haven't even started dinner.”

“Oh, my gosh! What time is it?”

“Six o'clock.”

“Sorry. I lost track of time. I'll order some Chinese. Want anything special?”

“No. Get what you want,” he said angrily.

“Look, I'm really sorry, but—”

“I know. The edits.”

“Look! I've got the cover of the book,” she said showing him.

“Nice. Order the food. I'm going to wash up.”

Jill watched Adam walk away. He could've been a little excited for her. Then again, lately he'd been so distracted and tonight was no different. She wondered what was wrong—not that he’d tell her. Sometimes she wondered why he kept everything so bottled up inside him. Why couldn't they communicate anymore?
Because he always puts his career ahead of us. It sucks all the time and energy out of him. No wonder little is left for us.

***

Adam went upstairs into the bathroom and leaned over the sink. He looked into the mirror. The man staring back at him look tired. He was beat. The job was getting to him. The new director of client services, Charles Aloe, turned out to be a major prick. For some reason he resented Adam and seemed to live with the desire to make Adam miserable. Always looking over Adam’s shoulder, it seemed as if he wanted Adam to screw up. He'd often countermand a decision Adam made and then expected Adam to repair the damage.

At this point, Adam was ready to jump ship. Unfortunately, it wasn't a very good time to do so. He was fortunate he still had a high-paying job in today’s economy. Therefore Adam found himself treading water, hoping that the market would have an upswing before he went under.

That morning, Adam had been called into Charles Aloe’s office. It was soon evident the purpose was to ream Adam a new one.

“Revenues are down this month, Stone. I expected them to increase at best and remain the same at worst. If you can't make that happen, I'll find somebody who can.”

Adam truly desired to belt this guy into the next office, but he said nothing. He wouldn't give the man any reason to fire him. He only wished somebody upstairs would recognize the man for what he was—an asshole.

“Go on, Stone. Try to get something accomplished.”

Adam had walked out of Aloe’s office feeling angry and frustrated. His entire day had been ruined.

He at least expected to find some comfort at home with a loving, supportive wife. Did his home life have to suck, as well? Dinner could've been ready for him. Was that so much to expect?

Chapter Six

The pre-promotion of
Because of You
was now in full-court-press mode, and the first of the reviews were coming in. Jill's heart virtually sang when she read each and every one of them. She’d prepared herself for any negative ones that came her way—or at least tried her best to, but it had been unnecessary. They were mainly five-star songs of praise. She was depicted as “the new kid on the block” and the “one author to read before anyone else.” If she were to believe all the hype—and she wanted to—her book seemed destined to be a success. Still…she nervously waited for the other shoe to drop.

Robin Wycoff called her. “Have you been catching the reviews, kiddo?”

“Yes. I can't believe how incredible they are. Beginner’s luck?”

“Nope. Fantastic book. We're so excited here. Your book could be a bestseller.”

“How I wish.”

“If the reviews are any indication, you might just get your wish. Well, gotta run. My stomach’s grumbling.”

Jill laughed. “Enjoy lunch. Speak to you soon.”

“Thanks to you, I will.”

Jill put her cell away and went back to her station. She felt terrific. Her novel would be published soon, and then perhaps it would be real enough to pass Adam’s stringent criteria. She could hardly wait to see his face in a week or so when it went to print and he held the book. Maybe then he’d be more supportive.

***

That following day, Adam had every intention of coming home on time again. He always felt worn out lately. Work had become so stressful that he sometimes wished they would fire him, even though he realized that telling Jill would be worse.

Unfortunately, Adam’s day took a downward turn from the moment he walked through the glass doors of his agency. And good intentions were the only thing he had going for him. He’d just had time to make it to his desk when his intercom buzzed.

It was Susan Smith, the administrative assistant to Roy Jackson, CEO and one of the managing partners of the Hartford Advertising Agency, letting him know that he was being summoned upstairs. Immediately, Adam’s heart jumped into his throat. Perhaps Charles had finally gotten his desire to get Adam canned. Doomsday scenarios started to play in Adam’s mind. What would he do? Jill mustn’t know. And if her parents ever found out…

“Adam? Are you still there?”

“Yes, of course. I’m on my way.”

Like a condemned man taking his last walk to his place of execution, Adam took the elevator up two floors. The piped-in music seemed more annoying than usual. The doors opened, and he proceeded down the hall and through the glass door to Susan Smith's desk.

“He's waiting for you. Go right inside,” she said, buzzing Jackson.

Roy Jackson, a trim, medium-height man in his late fifties, was seated behind his large mahogany desk. His office boasted large windows on two sides, giving him a gorgeous view of the city. The brown carpeting was lush, and the leather couch and matching chairs were expensive-looking. There was a glass case containing several gold Clios, the highest award given for creative advertising. Family pictures dotted the walls and lined a low bookshelf set against a wall.

Adam couldn't tell from the expression on Jackson's tanned, bearded face whether or not he was going to be fired, since Jackson had the best poker face he'd ever seen. It wasn't the firing, but the aftermath, that worried Adam the most. He just wanted to get it over with fast.

“Have a seat,” Jackson said gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Adam just wanted to stand and get it over with, but complied, choosing the chair on the left of Jackson’s desk.

“Joel Fried called me early this morning. He wasn't a very happy man. I was wondering why he chewed my ear off. I thought our advertising campaign with Hudson Food Corp. was on track. Can you please enlighten me as to why Joel Fried, their advertising manager, should be calling me?”

“When I spoke to Fried last week, there wasn’t anything wrong. He definitely was happy with the campaign. Honestly, I haven’t the faintest idea why he called you.”

“According to Fried, he found out from our production department that his thirty-second Super Bowl TV spot was seriously behind schedule due to some ‘bullshit technicality.’ I called our creative director, and he told me they had to stop production due to cost overruns. What’s he talking about? And why wasn’t I told there was a problem?”

“This is the first I'm hearing about this, too.” Adam frowned, thinking furiously. Production would have informed Charles Aloe, his boss, if there was a problem, and since this was Adam’s account, he should have been informed, too. “As far as I knew, production was on schedule. It was imperative that the ad be ready to air during the Super Bowl halftime. We could lose the entire account because of it.”

Jackson grimaced. “If it isn't fixed, we will. But I'm truly troubled here. The only other person who might have halted production would have been Charles. By any chance, did production go over budget with Fried’s ad? This is your account, Adam.”

Adam shook his head. “As far I know, everything is on time and on budget. The outside production crew we hired for this commercial was included in the proposed budget.” He realized what Charles had done and was livid. He had to have added unnecessary run costs not included in the original proposal without Adam’s knowledge. The Hudson Ford account was Adam’s major account. If the account was screwed up, Adam would take the fall. The major question here was, who would Jackson ultimately blame for the fiasco?

“That's what I needed to know. Thanks, Adam.”

Adam left and headed back to his office. His throat felt so constricted he could hardly breathe. He opened the top button on his shirt and loosened his tie. He knew Charles Aloe was a snake, but he never expected the man to stoop to undermining the entire company as a way of getting rid of him.

The entire scenario played out in his head. Aloe had planned this carefully. The additional run costs would cause a delay and make Adam look incompetent. The creative director would have told Aloe of the problem and would have had no reason to alert Adam, as well. If Fried hadn’t checked up on production, the ad would not have been ready for the Super Bowl.

Adam sighed. If Roy Jackson believed that Adam was derelict in his duties, he would be fired.
Unbelievable!

As the elevator doors opened on Adam’s floor, Charles Aloe was standing there. “On the way to your office to clean out your desk, Stone?”

Adam clenched his jaw. His hands fisted at his sides. It took all of his willpower not to wipe the smirk off Aloe’s face. This confirmed what Adam thought.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Then straightening his shoulders, Adam walked toward his office. He could feel Aloe’s eyes boring into his back. Adam heard the elevator doors close as he reached his office.

Opening his desk drawer, Adam took out a bottle of whiskey that he kept for moments like this. He poured himself two fingers and downed it. His head was now throbbing. He felt like a man drowning in frustration, for there was little he could do. He should've walked when he was offered the job a couple years ago with Flanagan and Green, a small up-and-coming agency in California. But he had invested so much of himself into the Hartford Agency who’d believed in him, it didn’t seem right. What good was his loyalty to Hartford now? It certainly wasn't going to save him here.

He got up and began to pace. Who was he scheduled to meet with today? Perhaps he should reschedule. No. That would be wrong. Besides, what was he going to do, merely sit here and wait for the axe to fall? The best thing was to get his mind off the situation—as if he could— and keep his appointments with his clients. What did he have to lose? If he ever got a job with another agency, there was always the chance some of these clients would follow him.

***

Jill showered and dressed for work. She felt troubled. Lately, she and Adam seemed to argue more often. They’d become just like her parents, who never shied away from a good fight. The thought soured her stomach. Most of the arguments centered on his erratic work schedule and her writing obligations.

Arguments concerning his job were nothing new. Her writing was. She felt angry and disappointed that Adam didn’t support her writing career as much as she’d like. It was almost as if he didn’t take it seriously. She wondered if he resented it. Perhaps he thought she was putting her career first? Was Adam still angry with her for forgetting to make dinner that one night?

She loved Adam—of course she did—and yet, they’d become like planets whose orbits crossed one another, but never collided. Perhaps she should take matters into her own hands and attempt to bring back the passion they once shared. It seemed a crying shame that the characters in her book had more sex than she did.

Jill decided to do something positive about that. She would seduce Adam and make him want what he used to hunger for. Tonight was as good a night as ever. The thought alone made her wet with desire.

***

Adam got back to his office by three o’clock. His assistant, Mary, stopped him and pointed upstairs. “He said to send you up the minute you got back.”

Again Adam’s heart lurched sideways. It wasn’t as if his potential firing hadn’t been the elephant camping out in his head the entire day, but at least he was on the outside still breathing the air of an employed man. Well, his reprieve was over.
Time to face the music
, he thought as he slowly headed toward the elevator.

Roy Jackson was standing at the window looking out at the city when Adam walked into his office. “You know, Adam, I never tire of looking out this window. It’s such a great view. I never thought I’d like living in Manhattan. I’m from Idaho, originally.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Jackson turned and walked back to his desk. “Sit down. We have a great deal to discuss.”

***

On her way home from work, Jill turned around on Northern Blvd. and backtracked to the entrance to Northern Parkway. She drove eastbound toward the Roosevelt Field mall. The plan of seduction was gelling in her mind and that brought a smile to her full, pouty lips.

She parked her car in the lot near Macy’s. Though the lot was packed, luckily for her someone had pulled out right in front of her as she turned into a lane. Now on a mission, she hurried into the mall, checked the directory, and headed for Victoria’s Secret. The store was busy so no one paid her any mind, exactly what she’d wanted. Shopping here wasn’t in her normal purview. She made her way to the lingerie area. Looking through stuff that made her blush, she found a sexy black teddy that would show off her ample bosom and high, firm buns—two assets Adam got off on. This teddy would drive him crazy.

Making her way out of the mall, she got back into her car and drove to an adult shop nearby. She swallowed her embarrassment by reminding herself this was for an important cause and entered. A young woman with piercings through her eyebrow, nose, and lips approached her. Her short, shaggy blonde hair had blue stripes running through it. When she asked if she could help Jill find something, Jill noticed the tattoo on her forearm that read: Love Toy.

Jill lied. “I need a gag gift for a friend’s shower.” She was certain by the expression on the other woman’s face that she didn’t believe her.

“Do you have something specific in mind?”

“Handcuffs—but not real metal ones.”

Blondie gestured with two fingers over her shoulder. “Follow me. I think I have the perfect set.”

Jill found herself standing in front of a wall that held rows and rows of packaged handcuffs that looked pretty authentic. The girl directed her attention to the last three rows on the right. There Jill saw handcuffs made of all types of material from tiger fur to plastic. The last thing in the world she wanted to happen was to have to call 911 to open a set of handcuffs because the key had gone missing. With that scenario foremost in her mind, she chose a pair of black sporty cuffs made of soft neoprene and held in place with Velcro. They had never tried bondage before, but the thought of Adam handcuffing her to the bed and spreading her legs wide while he pumped into her was definitely appealing.

When the salesgirl asked, “Anything else?” Jill swallowed hard and said, “I’d also like a vibrator.” She knew Adam used to get off on watching her pleasure herself. Watching her run a vibrator over her clit was sure to drive him wild.

The other woman smiled knowingly and brought Jill back to the largest selection of vibrators Jill thought possible. They came in all shapes, sizes, and colors. When the salesgirl saw the expression on Jill’s face, she explained how several popular ones worked.

Fifteen minutes later, Jill chose what the woman had called a rabbit-type vibrator. The device, which vibrated and rotated, was in the shape of a phallus with a clitoral stimulator attached to the shaft. She thanked the girl for all her help and paid for the vibrator and handcuffs. Definitely glad her purchases were in a plain nondescript bag, Jill headed for home.

Rush-hour traffic was building, and it was taking longer than she’d expected. She wouldn’t have time to make dinner. To solve this problem, she stopped at a supermarket and bought a rotisserie chicken, some ready-made potato salad, coleslaw, and a strawberry shortcake for dessert.

By the time she got home, she was giddy with excitement just thinking about her plans for the evening. She looked at the clock on the microwave. Adam would be home in an hour or so.