Page 19 of CEO April: Zed Barker
“Fizzled out really. I decided to come back to London, she kept the business going and I just take a share of the profit. We’re still great friends, we hook up now and again. So, you think this is your Duke?”
“I do. He said at the time he had a story to share but then made it sound more pornographic and for his entertainment only.”
“That is way too much of a coincidence. I wonder if I’ve met him. Or maybe Angela told him I worked for a publisher, then I’d put you forward for a weekend and she’d engineered a meeting.”
I paused to think. It could certainly have been that way, although I hoped that wasn’t the only reason I was accepted. “Wouldn’t it have been too short notice to get Duke to attend? You only organised me going a day before.”
“Possibly, but he only lives just over the border. Shall I ring Angela?” she asked.
“No, don’t. I’d already decided I wanted to know more about this author, remember?” Although I would have to think hard about acquiring this book. Duke probably wasn’t the type of person I’d want to put in front of the media…or he could be just the kind and the publicity would be amazing.
I reached for my laptop. “Let’s email and see how it plays out.”
I sent an email explaining that I’d finished the manuscript and I would like to set up a meeting. I enquired whether he had an agent and if he’d be happy to forward details. I was happy to travel to Devon or we could meet in London. I sent the email and then rested back in my chair.
“This is either going to be amazing or a total disaster.”
“What does your gut say?” she asked.
“I’m excited, either way,” I laughed as I spoke.
It was a couple of weeks later that I received a reply from D Harrington, apologising for missing my email and thrilled to meet up. He wanted to travel to London and was happy to meet. The only problem was the next free few days he had were two months ahead. We fixed a date, and for the next few weeks, I would often laugh for no reason other than I remembered the weekend and method it appeared Angela might have gone on to arrange the meeting. Of course, Rebecca called her and Angela denied all knowledge. I had wanted to ask some questions about Laura but the more I thought of her, the more mystical she became. I was assured by Angela, via Rebecca, Laura had commented that should I attend another party could she be invited as well. I’d settle for that. My purple-haired mermaid and I could have weekend hook-ups that kept us both satisfied, it seemed.
As the days wore on, so the trudge of life started to overwhelm me again. I needed to fly to New York and had a message from my office there that Miriam had been in contact and, should I be in the States, she’d love to meet up. When I thought of her, I also thought of Anna and how pushed aside she had been. I shook my head, nope; Miriam could wait.
Unfortunately, it seemed that Miriam had other ideas, and after being informed what dates I would be in the office, turned up unexpectedly.
“Zed, there is a Miriam Seabrook in reception.”
The announcement came over the intercom into my office. I rolled my eyes. “For fuck’s sake,” I whispered. I pressed the button to speak. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
She was an author of ours, I could hardly tell her to fuck off. She wasn’t someone I really wanted to meet with at the moment. However, a thought struck me.
“Miriam, sorry to keep you waiting,” I said, striding into the reception area. She stood and held out her arms. I avoided her embrace and simply leaned in to kiss her cheek. “How are you?” I asked, gently guiding her back to the seating area.
“I wondered if you would be free for lunch. I know this is unexpected but what are the chances of us both being in New York at the same time?” She laughed and I wondered the same thing, although my thought was that she was way more calculating.
“Oh no, I don’t. And I’m flying home this evening. Had I known, I would have made time. Have you come all this way especially?” I asked.
“No, I wanted to do some shopping.” She raised the one paper clothes store bag she had by her side as if it backed her story.
“I was thinking about the weekend in Cornwall. Do you remember Duke telling us about his book? I wonder if he decided to do anything about it?” I asked, pretending to think over the point.
“His book?” she asked, and there was genuine confusion in her tone.
“He told me he wrote a book, I thought you were there,” I said, also confused as to whether she was or not.
“I don’t know. He often tells us he keeps detailed notes and he’s strange enough to have the odd video, I’m sure, of hisconquests. But I haven’t heard him talk about a book.”
“I must have it wrong. I thought, what with you being an established author yourself, he might have spoken to you about it.”
She shook her head. “No, I could ask him. I do visit him when I’m in England.”
“No, it’s okay. It was just something that popped into my mind. Now, tell me what you’ve been up to,” I asked to distract her.
“I know I’m late on that deadline but it’s been terribly busy.”
She then went on to tell me about some media appointments that had been set up for her. It had since been revealed that her coach had been accused of sexual misconduct within the Olympic team. Since her book had been recently released, the media was keen to hear from her and discover whether she had been abused or not. She had assured her editor that she hadn’t been and had no knowledge of any abuse, but she wasn’t passing up the publicity. It wasn’t necessarily how we’d work in the UK, but America was different and if it helped to sell books, then the bottom line came first.
