Jack went into the shop and towards his desk at the rear. Somebody told him when he first opened the business, he should have the desk at the front to stop people from facing the temptation to steal from him, but he preferred being away from the front. If someone walked in with a gun, which was always possible, then it would be easy to nip out the back; and he kept the few valuable books he had left there.
He settled into his seat and finished the coffee. He wondered if the place would be as busy in the afternoon - not that it would ever be as full as he needed it to be - as he refreshed the news on the computer. The latest chatter claimed Evie was still at the station where the police held her brother. The online anger was growing, and Jack was happy at that. He’d decided what to do and was reaching for a new browser tab to access his email when his phone rang.
It vibrated in his hand as he removed it from his pocket. The happiness generated by Evie’s continuing problems had evaporated as soon as he heard the ringtone of Don’t Fear the Reaper. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a call which hadn’t been bad news. He looked at the number, and his heart lifted a little when he saw it was from his agent. He’d met the woman only once, in New York two weeks ago, and she’d scared the shit out of him. She was taller and bigger than Jack, but it wasn’t her physical presence which bothered him; she was more aggressive than a killer shark. He knew a writer needed a literary agent who could stand up to the big publishing companies and their editors to succeed in the publishing world. Still, he also understood if she ever found out what a fraud he was, she’d eat him up and spit him out in one go.
She’d glared at the restaurant staff during the meeting, glowered at the other customers, and peered so deep inside him, he thought she’d see the small boy cowering behind his heart with the words “thief” and “liar” tattooed on to his head. At the end of the meeting, she’d shaken his hand and told him to get ready to be rich and famous. His legs wobbled like jelly when he walked away. They’d had a couple of email conversations since, one of which was to sign his contract with her, and he’d had to keep patient and not blurt out how frantic he was for an advance or any early payment for the novel.
For the book which isn’t mine.
And now she was ringing him. He knew it wouldn’t be good. Bits of the bagel gurgled at the bottom of his gut, swimming through a glut of sugar and coffee. He had a desperate need to go to the toilet, but he ignored it. He couldn’t talk to her while he was there.
He accepted it would be terrible news as he took the call.
‘Hello,’ he whispered.
Her voice reverberated through his ears like a boom box on a street corner.
‘I’ve got bad news for you, Jack.’
His tongue shrivelled in half, curling up inside his mouth and threatening to choke him. The bell rang over the door and someone entered the shop. He looked up, but couldn’t see anything through the moisture clouding his eyes.
‘What?’
The word stumbled out through his chattering teeth. There was silence down the other end, and he imagined his agent chewing on one of the twenty cigarettes she smoked every day.
‘Not all of the big publishing houses have agreed to take part in the auction for your book. I can’t tell you the name of the only hold-out, but they’re arguing for worldwide rights. I told them to go away and have a lie down; only I wasn’t that polite.’ Her laugh was like a steam train chugging down the line and rolling into his head.
‘What do you mean about an auction?’ A spectral hand prodded a cold knife into the deepest parts of his brain. ‘You said there was bad news. I’m confused.’
He hadn’t meant to say the last two words out loud, but the pain in his head had left him with little control over his actions. It felt as if he was going to piss himself at any second. Footsteps echoed in the shop, but when he glanced up, he still couldn’t see anyone.
She howled down the phone. ‘Poor Jackie boy. Haven’t you read the email I sent you this morning?’ She didn’t wait for a reply. ‘I’ve been touting your masterpiece with the big publishers all week. An auction is when those interested - and they all are, believe me, even the hold-out - place secret bids for the right to purchase your book. I’m still ironing out the terms and conditions, such as what else they’ll get apart from the hardback and American paperback rights, but I think the auction should be ready to go ahead this weekend. You’ll need to get yourself here if you want to be in the room when they open the sealed bids.’
The constant thumping of his heart matched the pounding inside his head. There was going to be an auction for his book. And it was his. Fuck Evie Church. He’d do whatever was necessary to stop her messing up his life. He controlled his breathing and crossed his legs, uncaring about the noise in the shop. Whoever it was could take whatever they wanted since none of that mattered now.
‘How much… how much do you think the book is worth?’
And how soon can I get some of the money?
The silence was golden, her laugh having evaporated somewhere in the ether. ‘Well, Jackie boy, there are no guarantees, but with a novel this good, I’d expect nothing less than a couple of big ones.’
His heart sank and his legs wobbled. He wondered how long it would be before he passed out.
‘Two thousand?’ Disappointment washed out of him in waves. ‘I thought it would be worth a bit more than that.’
Her cacophonous cackle threatened to snap the phone in half. ‘Oh, Jackie boy; you may be a great writer, but you know jack shit about the value of what you have. It’s probably a stretch to think we can get two million, but if you sign a three-book deal with one of them, and you will, that’s the least I’d expect.’
‘Two million?’
He staggered behind the desk and stumbled into the chair. The sound of a hardback thumping on to the floor barely troubled the dust floating around inside his skull.
Now, down the line, her voice was as angel’s tears to his ears. ‘There’ll be much more than that once we factor in ancillaries like eBooks, audiobooks, film and TV rights, and other stuff. You’re going to be a wealthy man, Jack. You better start getting used to it. And get working on the next book or two.’
She ended the connection before he could reply. He placed both hands on his chest in an attempt to stop his frazzled heart from jumping through his ribcage. A smile danced across his face.
I don’t have to worry about writing more books; I’ve got ten of them sitting in my rejected folder on the computer.
‘Do you have a first edition of Dune?’
He heard the voice before he saw its owner. Jack peered straight ahead into space. It was only as he looked down that he knew who’d spoken to him. A man in his forties, unshaven with grey flecked hair unused to a comb or a brush, gazed at him. He was Napoleonic in size, with a grin as wide as a coffee table.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t have that.’
He didn’t need this now, his mind buzzing with the conversation he’d had with his agent, her words on a repeated loop, two million words which wouldn’t disappear.
‘Could you order it for me?’
‘Go away.’ It was only a few days before the auction. He had to sort out the problem with Evie Church before that.
‘I’ll pay good money for it.’
‘Fuck off!’
Two years of frustration flew out of him like lava from a volcano. His cheeks burned, and he could only imagine what he looked like. The customer turned and sprinted from the shop. Jack followed him, locked the door, and put the CLOSED sign up. He didn’t think he’d use the OPEN one ever again.
He pressed his cheeks against the window, his eyes following the startled shopper as he ran across the road. Jack returned to the back and his computer. He opened his email account and checked his messages. There was the one his agent had mentioned with confirmation about the book auction. He read that at least six times. He scanned the spam mail and settled on a message from someone he’d never expected to hear from again. The text was short and to the point.
I’m sorry. I was wrong. I’ve missed you. I think we should get back together.
The shocks kept on coming that day. First, the possibility of earning two million dollars, and now the woman who’d broken his heart was back in touch. How could things get any better for him?