Authors: Chamein Canton
As the managing partner of the Chambers-Stevens
Literary Agency, Cathy’s name went first on the stationery.
More importantly, she was more hands on with the clients
and publishers.
When Cathy arrived, the office had been in full swing
since eight thirty. The office manager, Sylvia, opened
around eight every day to enjoy the calm before the
neuroticism level rose significantly. A tall, full-figured girl
from the South, Sylvia made the office run like a well-oiled
machine. Stationed near the entrance, she was the first one
Cathy saw.
Catherine. How are you?”
“I’m good. Do I have any messages?”
Sylvia handed her two message slips. “One is from
Jennifer and the other is from Steven’s editor. She called
early this morning.”
“I’ve already spoken with both of them today.”
“You can’t resist dealing with the office stuff at home.”
“It’s kind of hard to avoid when you have a home office.
I used to have the kids’ activities as a buffer, but now that
they’re in college it’s full metal jacket.”
“At least the Yankees make you happy, most of the time.
Did you see Mr. Fox last night?”
Reggie, one of their interns, walked over to Sylvia’s
desk. “Talking about the Yankees’ win, I bet.” He grinned.
“Of course. My men in pinstripes pulled it out,” Cathy
chimed.
Reggie, a Mets fan, shook his head. “You Yankee fans
with your roster of stars are something else.”
“Don’t talk to me about stars; you know my position on
that.” That was the one place she and the Yankees’ boss
differed: He was star struck and she believed in growing
players.
Reggie conceded, “Well it was the farm system players
who did their thing last night.”
“That’s right. Just look at the history. Mickey Mantle
and Maris to name two. All the great players come from the
farm system.”
“Including Mr. Fox.” Sylvia raised her eyebrow.
Cathy grinned like a Cheshire cat. Seeing him in person
was her little secret for now. “He’s the man.”
Sylvia chuckled. “You are a do or die fan.”
“Most definitely. I find that my dad, my boys and the
men in pinstripes rarely disappoint me. I can’t say that
about most men.”
“Ahem!” E.D cleared his throat as Reggie quickly scurried away.
“Check that, Sylvia. I’ll add E.D to my short list.”
“Thank you.”
Cathy gave him a little peck on the cheek.
“Feel better, my poor under-loved and under-appreciated baby?”
Sylvia cracked up. “You two are too cute. Why don’t
you just get married already?”
“And ruin a perfectly good partnership? Nothing ruins
a friendship quicker than sex.”
“Amen to that, E.D.”
“You two certainly seem married.”
“We are married in a literary sense. What publishing
has joined together let no man or woman pull apart,” E.D.
expounded.
Sylvia shook her head. “I don’t think that’s how the
vows go.”
“What do you expect, Sylvia? Neither E.D. nor I have
been married in eons and it shows.”
Cathy settled into her little nook and booted up her
computer. Sylvia poked her head in.
“Staff meeting at 2:15.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
“How was lunch with Jim?”
“He didn’t show. I had lunch by myself.”
Sylvia nodded her head. “You ate alone in the middle of
a big restaurant? I don’t know how you do it.” Having been
married for 20 years, dining alone was not a concept Sylvia
got.
“It’s no big deal. A girl’s gotta eat.”
“True.” She paused. “You really don’t mind eating
alone?” she pressed.
Cathy shrugged it off. “I don’t mind at all.”
Besides, I
wasn’t alone for long
. Before she could stop herself, she
grinned.
“What’s that little grin about?” Sylvia asked.
Cathy played coy. “Nothing. I’m just in a good mood.”
She changed the subject. “Is Michelle in?”
Sylvia moved on. “Yes. I think she’s coming down here
to see you. Something about Beatrice Collins and Sandra
McCoy.”
“Oh good God! They’re not at it again, are they?” Cathy
cringed.
“As a matter of fact, they are,” Michelle said as she
leaned against the door.
Michelle Young, their 40-year-old junior associate, had
been one of Cathy’s closest friends since high school. An
avid reader, she was just starting her second career after
divorce. She was usually bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but
this afternoon she looked completely worn out.
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“You have no idea.” Michelle covered her eyes.
“Oh yes I do. I’ve been in the middle of this
author/publisher tug of war for two years and four bestsellers.”
Beatrice and Sandra represent one of the most
contentious publisher/author relationships Cathy had ever
dealt with. Separately both women were sweethearts, but
for some unexplained reason they occasionally rubbed each
other the wrong way. Normally Cathy handled them, but
she’d put Michelle on the case to strengthen her diplomatic
chops.
“Can you give me some tips on how to get oil and water
to mix?”
“You use Good Seasons and shake things up. Let
Beatrice know that we’re prepared to go elsewhere. There
are at least four other publishers of children’s books who are
just chomping at the bit to sign Sandra. We had to play it
Beatrice’s way in the beginning but now we have options
and
a contractual clause that allows us to shop.”
“Brilliant.” Michelle beamed.
“Listen, whether I’m working here or at home, if she
gives you any more grief pass her on to me. I’ll handle it.”
Michelle looked relieved. “Thank you. How in the
world do you do this every day and still look unflappable?”
“Just lucky I guess.” Cathy shrugged.
Michelle stretched out on the sofa.
“You look tired, Michelle. Rough night?”
“Sort of.” She sighed. “Not in a bad way though.”
“I take it you had a date.”
“Yeah. I met him at one of those Big Beautiful Women
events. He’s a real nice guy and a lot of fun.”
Michelle usually kept Cathy in her dating loop; this
time she’d played it close to the vest. “You stinker, you
didn’t say a word.”
“I didn’t want to jinx it. You know how I am.”
“True. So how long have you been going out with
him?”
“About two months.”
“And you didn’t think to tell one of your best friends?”
“Sorry, but I didn’t want to hear any I told you so’s in
case it didn’t work out.”
“And?”
“I think it’s getting serious.”
“I’m so happy for you, that’s great.” Cathy smiled.
“You should go to a BBW event; it’s great and really
empowering.”
Catherine had been around the block on this subject
more than a couple of times. She could almost set the questions and comments to music.
“I know. I’ve been to a few events. I met some great
people and had a good time.”
“There’s a
but
coming.”
“There’s no
but.
I’m just not ready to date again.”
Michelle sat up. “Come on, Cathy, it’s been at least a
year since you broke up with Paul.”
”Two years. Almost three, really.”
“All the more reason to get back out there. Your sons are
in college and you’re still young. Live a little.”
Cathy was getting a little irritated. “I’ll take it under
advisement. Don’t you have a staff meeting to get ready
for?”
“Don’t you ever get lonely?” Michelle insisted.
“That’s why God made chocolate, sleeping pills and
double A batteries, thank you very much.”
“Maybe. But there’s nothing like an energizer bunny of
your very own.”
Cathy laughed and tossed a paper clip at Michelle,
which she quickly dodged.
“Hey, it’s the truth,” Michelle laughed.
“You should really get ready for the staff meeting. From
the looks of E.D.’s memo this is going to be fun.”
“I’m going. You’re not the boss of me, you know,”
Michelle joked.
“As a matter of fact, I am your boss.”
“That’s right. Oops, my bad. Guess I’d better get ready
for the staff meeting.”
“Good idea.”
Back in the Bronx Marcus was about ready to take
batting practice. Ben kept his eye on his star player who
looked a little distracted.
“Hey man, what’s going on?” Marcus’s teammate, Mark
Vasquez, patted him on the back. Mark, a four time AllStar, was a bit of a sex symbol. A mix of African American
and Latino blood, he had a beautiful light bronze
complexion and slim, strong build that attracted the ladies
in droves. Nevertheless, he was somewhat of an anomaly in
sports: He was happily married.
Marcus shook it off. “Nothing.”
Mark knew better. He liked to subject Marcus to a little
good-natured ribbing about his love life. “I’ve seen that
look before. What’s her name?”
Marcus tried to play it off. “What makes you think it’s
a woman?”
“Experience.”
Marcus laughed. “It’s that obvious?”
“To me it is. But then again, I’ve known you a long time
now. So what gives?”
“Nothing. I met a nice woman this afternoon. Her
name is Cathy.”
“Is she a model, actress or singer?”
“None of the above. She’s a literary agent.”
Mark looked impressed. “A literary agent? That’s interesting. But something tells me it wasn’t her brains that
caught your eye.”
Marcus tried to sound offended. “Is that all you think I
look at?”
Mark ignored his weak protest. “Yeah. I have to go by
your track record. You’re a breast man. A worshipper at the
temple of the breasts.”
Marcus got a little annoyed. “All right already. Enough
with sayings.” He paused. “There’s more to her than
breasts.”
Mark was game. “Okay. Describe her to me.”
“She’s kind of tall, full-figured, with long red hair and
sort of a caramel complexion. She’s very attractive.” Marcus
paused to wait for a reaction.
Mark didn’t give him the one he expected. “Smart and
pretty, that’s a good combination.”
“That’s all you have to say about it?”
“Why should I say more?”
“I thought you would trip over the full-figured part.”
“Why should I trip over that? It’s not something that
makes a difference to you, so why should it bother me?”
Marcus felt a little ashamed of himself. “You’re right. So
she’s full-figured. Big deal.”
“It won’t be a big deal unless you make it into one,”
Mark observed. “You approached her right?”
“Yeah.”
“So there was something about her that drew you to
her. Don’t sweat it. Enjoy it.”
Marcus tied his sneakers. “She does have a lot of cute
freckles on her face and her…” He stopped before he went
further.
Mark got the implication immediately. “She has
freckles on her breasts, too, right?”
He smiled. “Just one on her left breast.”
Mark playfully pulled Marcus’s baseball cap down over
his eyes. “You’re hopeless,” he joked as he walked away.
“Call her. You know you want to.”
Marcus thought about it and pulled his cell and her
card from his jacket.
More than a little aware of how E.D. ran a staff
meeting, Cathy kept meticulous notes on clients,
publishing trends and publishers. While her printer shot
out a few copies of the latest sales figures, she made some
last minute additions.
Sylvia poked her head in. “I’m heading in. Are you
coming?”
Cathy looked up. “Tell E.D. I’ll be there in a minute.
I’m just getting some of my projections and trends
together.”
“Okay.”
Just as she pulled the last sheet off the printer the phone
rang. With everyone in the conference room Cathy
answered the call.
“Good afternoon, Chambers-Smith Agency.”
“Hello, Cathy?”
Cathy’s eyes got wide in a hurry. “Yes? Marcus?”
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Cathy was uncharacteristically speechless.
“I just thought I would give you a call. I really enjoyed
meeting you this afternoon.”
“The feeling is mutual. How’s batting practice going?”
“I haven’t actually taken it yet, but I’m sure it will be
fine.”
“Oh, I see.”
Michelle knocked on her door.
“Are you coming, Cathy? You know how E.D. gets.”
“Would you hold for just a minute?”
“Sure.”
“Thanks.” Cathy pressed the hold button and handed
Michelle the reports. “Tell E.D. I will join you in progress.”
“Okay.” She turned and left.
Cathy took Marcus off hold. “Sorry about that. I have
a staff meeting this afternoon.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I keeping you from it?”
“Yes, but I can afford to be a few minutes late. What’s
the point of being a managing partner if you can’t arrive late
to a meeting every now and again?”
He laughed. “It must be nice to be the boss. You get the
cool office and the big money.”
Cathy was amused. “I do have a cool office but the big
money is debatable. Maybe your boss has the big money.”
“That’s the truth.”
E.D. walked in. “Cathy, are you coming? You know I
hate to begin the meetings without you.”
She covered the receiver. “I’ll be there in a minute,
E.D.” Her patience had worn a little thin.
“Okay.” He walked out.
She uncovered the receiver. “Sorry about that.”
“It sounds like they need you. I’ll let you go.”
“I’m sorry. The natives really are getting restless.”
“I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Sure. Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks. You’ll be watching?”
“I never miss a game.”
He smiled. “Have a good afternoon meeting.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
As soon as Marcus flipped his phone shut, Ben handed
him a bat.
“You’re up.”
“Thanks, man.” He smiled and jogged to the batter’s
cage.
Then Mark jogged back into the dugout and patted
Ben on the back. “So Mr. Agent, in your opinion is this a
twenty-four hour bug or what?”
“To tell you the truth, I think this one might be a
keeper.”
The two men watched a smiling Marcus in the batter’s
cage.
“I think you might be right, Ben. This one bears
watching.”
Two hours after the staff meeting Cathy managed to
take the last off peak train home. Staring out the window,
her mind drifted to lunch and Marcus Fox. A part of her
wanted to dwell on and enjoy the moment, but the other
part was deathly afraid of getting her hopes up. She was
afraid to get happy. It wasn’t so much a case of Murphy’s
law as it was about being punished by God for leaving the
church.
According to her former church, anyone who left the
fold was like a dog that returned to its vomit. Whether or
not God intended the reference to be used in this manner,
it was a graphic and effective guilt tactic pulled from the
pages of the New Testament. She could expect no blessings
to come her way due to her disobedience. As a result, Cathy
always waited for the other shoe to drop. Today, however,
Cathy made an exception. She was buzzed without one sip
of alcohol. She’d had a shot of Marcus Fox straight with no
chaser and she was unapologetically on cloud nine when
the train stopped at her station. Dreamy-eyed, she walked
through the parking lot to her car. Just as she turned the
ignition she closed her eyes and recalled his gorgeous light
eyes and slim muscular build.
I could just eat him up
. She
sighed.
God, his butt was even cuter in person, if that’s
humanly possible.
The sound of a car horn blaring jolted her
back into reality.