go.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Oliver,” I told him. “I really do. I just don’t have the moral fiber to ignore a seven-figure payout that is rightfully mine.”
“Just tell me you haven’t changed your mind about shagging Monsieur Droste-Chambers.”
“No. I think Guy is bluffing. When it comes right down to it, I think he’d rather deal with me than Cosima. He’ll keep his mouth shut.”
“Just remember what I said. You may think it’s the end of the world if you lose this deal, but it’s not. Believe me, I’ve been close enough to the end of the world to see it from where I was, and it has nothing to do with million-pound deals. The only thing that matters is whether you are true to yourself.”
Damn him. I work so hard to keep a suit of armor around me, and Oliver has this annoying habit of knowing how to prick me so I bleed. I swirled the wine in my glass and didn’t say anything. I felt guilty, because he was doing his best to help me, and all I couldseem to do for him was pony up a deal worth eight hundred stinking euros from the Czech Republic.
He read my mind. “I suppose you haven’t heard anything about
Duopoly
in the UK? Or did they say no and you’re sparing my feelings?”
“There’s no word yet, but I’m not giving up,” I assured him. “If your current publisher won’t bite, then we’ll shop it elsewhere. Don’t worry. We’ll do a deal. Keep writing.”
I tried to sound optimistic. He could see through me.
“I’m not concerned,” he said. “Now that we have the Czechs on board for
Singularity,
the Poles can’t be far behind, right? Soon I’ll be up to my balls in kolaches and pierogi. In fact, maybe I should skip writing in English altogether and switch to something in Cyrillic. I like languages that have lots of accent marks. We’re missing something in English without them.”
That was the cynical Oliver. “It’s going to happen, darling,” I said. “Trust me.”
I hoped I wouldn’t have to eat my words.
“What about Tom Cruise?” he asked. “Any chance of him signing onto a movie deal? If it would help, I’ll become a Scientologist.”
“I’ve been in touch with Felicia Castro. She’s the way in to Tom.”
“And?”
“We’re still talking.”
Oliver blew a cloud of smoke at me. “Don’t treat me like a child, Tessie.”
“All right, Felicia called me a cunt and said I had a better chance of bearing Tom’s love child than getting the book in his hands.”
“In other words, I’m fucked.”
“No, I’ll find a way around her.”
Oliver nodded. If he doubted me, he was kind enough not to show it. I knew that I was his only hope. No other agent would touch him, not with the dismal track record of
Singularity
.
The waitress brought the check, which I paid. Oliver had ordered a steak and chips and hoovered up the whole thing. I wondered how often he had a decent meal.
“Here,” I said, sliding a small envelope across the table.
“What the hell is this?”
“Call it an advance on my commission.” I had put one hundred pounds inside the envelope.
Oliver pushed it away. “Forget it.”
“Oh, don’t be so fucking noble, darling.”
He shook his head. “You’re sweet, Tessie. Really, you are. But, like I told you, once you compromise your principles, you lose yourself. I can’t do that.”
“This is not a compromise. This is a loan.”
“It’s welfare.”
“Oh, fine, you stubborn arse.” I took the envelope back.
We both stood up. As I leaned forward, Oliver had a good look at the girls spilling forward in my blouse. Oliver looked at them with detached interest. He was gay.
“Are those for Darcy?” he asked me without a smile.
I nodded.
“You still haven’t told me who he is,” he said.
I haven’t told anyone except Emma.
“Believe me, Oliver, you don’t want to know.”
I took a cab from Westminster to Piccadilly and had the driver let me out in front of the Athenaeum. I tried to put all
Tess Monaghan 05 - The Sugar House (v5)