Peachtree Street
Atlanta, Georgia
Monday, December 22
11:35 a.m.
Mull Letterford turned and looked at his son, who stood next to him on the sidewalk. Case, Mull realized with somewhat of a shock, was now taller than he was. And he was handsome. Far more handsome, Mull noted with some pride, than Mull had ever been or could ever hope to be. Case, forgoing his regular attire of raggedy khakis, faded T-shirts, and sandals, had surprised his father that morning by appearing at breakfast in a coat and tie. His normally unruly blond hair was neatly combed back away from his face. For the first time since his son was born, Mull could see in him the future of Letterford & Sons.
“Dad!” Case whispered. “You’re staring at me! It’s embarrassing.”
“Oh, sorry about that,” replied Mull Letterford. “Your tie’s a bit crooked. Let me straighten it.”
Mull reached over and straightened his son’s tie. When he finished, he lightly patted his son on his cheek.
“Ready?” Mull asked.
“Ready,” Case replied.
“OK, here’s the plan. Natasha Limekicker is checked into her hotel under an assumed name. I told her that it was handled this way to protect her from adoring fans. No one knows she is here except me and you. We are meeting her in the coffee shop across the street from the hotel. If all goes well, we can be finished by noon.”
“Do you think she has seen the video?” asked Case.
“Who hasn’t?” answered Mull, who by this point was well acquainted with the video’s worldwide fame.
“Will it matter to her?”
“I don’t know,” Mull replied. “But there’s only one way to find out.” He looked up and down Peachtree Street.
“What are you looking for?” Case asked.
“Dogs,” Mull replied with a grin.
“Let’s get over to the coffee shop before you get arrested for bad jokes.” Case grabbed his father’s arm and headed across the street.
Mull and Case entered the Steamer Café and Coffee House and proceeded to a table in the back, at which a middle-aged lady with sandy blond hair sipped coffee. Next to her sat a rather dour-looking gentleman in a dark suit.
“Natasha!” Mull said as he approached the table.
“Mull, how good to see you again. Do you remember my agent, Morgan Toombs?”
“Good to see you again,” Mull said as he extended his hand to Toombs. Case noticed that Mr. Toombs seemed less than enthusiastic to be meeting with his father. And judging from his father’s body language, he clearly had not expected an agent to be present.
“This is my son, Case,” Mull said. “I hope you don’t mind if he joins us.”
“No, not at all,” replied Natasha. “Please, have a seat.”
Mull and Case sat down at the table. Mull folded his arms and looked across at Natasha Limekicker and her agent. However, before he could utter a single word, the agent spoke.
“Quite an incident in New York,” Toombs said.
“Yes,” replied Mull. “Well, it’s quite the story. You see, we—”
“No explanation is really necessary,” interrupted Toombs.
“I see,” Mull said.
“My client,” Toombs continued, “has a certain, shall we say, expectation of her publisher.”
Mull looked at Natasha Limekicker. “Is that so?” Mull asked. Natasha Limekicker did not return his gaze.
“And,” the agent continued, “those expectations include not showing up on a video on YouTube covered in mud and being chased by a pack of dogs through the streets of New York.”
Mull looked again at Natasha Limekicker, who kept her gaze firmly fixed on her coffee.
“And,” the agent continued, “those expectations also include not showing up on the front page of the ‘Living’ section of the Atlanta Journal-Constitution under the caption ‘Publishing Is for the Dogs.’ ”
Toombs handed a copy of the morning paper to Mull. Neither he nor Case had seen the article or the accompanying photo.
“I can explain,” Mull said.
“As I said,” Toombs repeated, “no explanation is necessary.”
Toombs took a final sip of his coffee and then stood up.
“Thank you for your time this morning,” Toombs said. “Natasha, shall we go?”
Mull Letterford looked over at Natasha Lime-kicker one last time.
“I’m sorry,” she said. And then she stood and left.
Mull sat back in his chair. He did not appear angry or upset.
“Dad? Are you OK?”
“Tonight’s Monday Night Football,” Mull replied. “How about we grab a pizza and watch the game? Just the guys.”
Case looked at his dad. He did not appear delirious, upset, or mad. In fact, he seemed perfectly at ease with what had just occurred. Case grinned. “Yeah, a football game and a pizza would be great.”