Chapter 5
Five
The next afternoon Jack and I agree to meet up at Hot Brew, the coffee shop that anchors the middle of Main Street. I get there first and order a chai from Ruth. Someone’s sitting at Jack’s favorite table by the window, so I stand near the counter while I wait. Jack appears a moment later, dressed in sneakers and joggers. He nods at me in acknowledgment, orders, then looks at the occupied table and raises his eyebrows as if to ask me, “What the hell?”
I shrug. He doesn’t actually own the place. I point to an empty table in the corner, and he slowly walks there.
“The nerve of some people,” I say mildly.
“Tell me about it,” he says, without heat. “So, what’s up?”
“You’re all business today.”
“I’m a little tired. Pete couldn’t stop talking about Ivy and Toby last night. He’s all fired up about getting them in touch with Fernanda—both of them.”
“Good.” They both have talent, smarts, and a ready-to-go body of work. Any agent would be lucky to take them on.
“What did you think of them?” he asks.
I have to consider how to respond. “Ivy is formidable, and her work really was surprising and accessible. Not that I’m an expert.”
“Well, you know quality,” he says.
“True. I do have unimpeachable taste.”
He doesn’t respond to that. “And Toby’s stuff? What did you think?”
Jack frowns at me when I don’t respond right away, not knowing how to put it into words.
“You don’t like his work?” he asks, sounding confused.
“No—it’s sensational. He has, as Ivy describes it, a spark.”
“But?”
“No buts. He should be selling out shows within a year, especially with someone like Fernanda guiding him. But before he blows up, I’ve asked him to do my cottage.”
“Oh.” Jack sits back in his chair, his face lighting up. “That’s an amazing idea. Why didn’t I think of that? Do you think he’d do our place? How much does he charge? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. How long does it take? Probably too soon to get it done for Pete’s birthday, right? That’s not until July. Maybe if I paid extra?”
“Hold up,” I say stoutly. “And get in line. He likes you and Pete, so he’ll probably do it. But mine first.”
Jack waves away my protest. “Fine. But that’s not what you wanted to talk about, is it?”
I’ve known Pete longer than Jack, but Jack’s more tuned into the publishing world. I’d also trust him with my life, so I know if I run some semi-confidential things by him, he won’t breathe a word. The publishing industry can be a gossipy place.
“It’s not.” Before I tell him what’s on my mind, I see that Teddy, the barista working today, has set our drinks on the counter, so I get up to collect them. I place Jack’s in front of him, then carefully smell my chai, the spices warming me.
“What do you think about me leaving Fenster and putting up my own shingle? Would you like to be a client of the Kingston James Literary Agency? It has a nice ring, doesn’t it?”
The swiftness with which the grin breaks out on Jack’s face quells my tendril of doubt that he wouldn’t like the idea.
“It’s about damn time,” he says. “I know you’ve done well there, but you are so ready to go out on your own.”
“I think so,” I say, questions over the feasibility of the endeavor returning. “I know I’m ready for a challenge.”
“You’re bored.”
I hadn’t quite considered it like that. “You think?”
“I know you. You’ve been on autopilot for a while. This will be good for you.” Jack sips his Americano, perfectly relaxed in the aftermath of what I thought might be more of a bombshell.
His matter-of-fact assessment, putting into so few words what I’ve been struggling with internally, makes me feel both seen by him and annoyed that it seems so easy for him to articulate my recent mood. But in the end, he wants what’s best for me, and his support is reassuring.
“I’m glad you think so.”
“So what’s next? Leasing some big fancy office in Midtown Manhattan?”
“I was thinking first I should put together a slate of agents,” I say. “Do you know anything about Stephanie Collier?”
“Yeah, she’s Sylvie Simon’s agent. She loves her. Want me to talk to Sylvie and feel her out?” Sylvie Simon is a bestselling young adult author, and exactly the kind of name that would make this move splashy, which is usually how I like it.
“How do you know Sylvie?”
“We were both on a panel at the New York Festival of Books a couple of years ago,” Jack says. “She’s wonderful.”
“Don’t talk to her yet. But I’ll let you know.”
“This is so exciting, Kingston,” Jack says. “Though it kind of throws a wrench in you spending more time in Rosedale.”
“Why?”
“Well, unless you’re going to move to a fully remote operation, won’t this mean you’ll have to be in the city even more?”
“I guess so.”
“Why don’t you work from Rosedale more?” he asks. “I mean, you’re usually here for a good chunk of the summer, when things slow down. But we’d love to see more of you. Unless you’re having too much fun in the city without us. Seeing anyone lately?”
“Van asked me the same question the other night. Why is everyone so concerned with my dating status?” If I sound defensive, it’s because I totally am.
“Hey, not trying to offend. It’s been a while since Sergio moved and I haven’t noticed you with anyone since then.”
“I—” I’m not sure what to say. Again, I know he only wants the best for me, but I’m chagrined to realize that while I’m perfectly fine sticking my nose into my friends’ love lives when called for, them trying to do the same makes me prickly as a hedgehog. “Don’t worry about me,” I finally say. “I’m doing okay.”
“All right,” Jack says neutrally. “You know I’m always here to talk, though, right?”
“Of course.”
“You don’t always have to be the calm, collected one, you know. You’re allowed to have problems, too.”
Now I am getting uncomfortable. I’m not used to Jack calling me out or pressing this hard. Usually, he lets me get away with my jaunty know-it-all vibe.
I swallow down a sharp lump that’s unexpectedly appeared in my throat. I can’t think of how to express what Jack’s friendship means to me. For someone who consumes as many words as I do, I’m having a hard time putting them in order. Finally, I settle on, “Thanks, Jack,” my voice embarrassingly husky.
But he doesn’t make fun of me for my weak-sauce reply. He smiles and pats my arm and we go on to talk about frivolous topics like the new vegetarian restaurant opening in Millville and the state of world affairs.
I get a text as we’re saying our goodbyes, and my pulse immediately kicks up when I see who it’s from.
Toby
If you still want me to come take photographs, I could do it this coming Saturday.
I don’t hesitate and rip off an instant reply.
Anytime. Looking forward to it.
Damn. Was that too enthusiastic? I frown down at the phone.
Jack looks at me, a concerned expression on his face. “What’s up? Everything good with your mom?”
“She’s doing fine, thanks. It’s something else.”
“Remember, you can talk to me,” Jack says, putting an arm on my shoulder.
I appreciate the sentiment, but I can’t tell him that I have a crush on a probably straight guy in a serious relationship. “Thanks, Jack. Everything’s completely chill.”
He gives me a doubtful look, but lets it slide. Now I just have to make it to Saturday without blowing Toby’s visit all out of proportion.