Chapter 2
Same “Francisco he opened his mouth to reply and then seemed to think better of it. He turned the manuscript over in his hands instead, dark lashes hiding his eyes, a reset back into professional mode before he spoke again.
“So it’ll be classed as a debut novel, which in the usual run of things shouldn’t mean face-to-face interviews, but your photo would be on social media pages, you could expect online interviews, podcasts, that kind of thing.
Nothing too strenuous and the publisher will give you all the background info you need.
” He paused. “You’d need to be on time for things, obviously. ”
“Wow,” she said. “If you must know, a baby was sick on me on the street right outside. I had to put my favorite jacket in the bin.” He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he didn’t believe her.
Reaching a hand behind her head, she pulled the tie from her ponytail, closing her eyes for a second as a waft of baby sick hit her when she flapped her curls around her shoulders.
“Some guy gave me his tie to fasten my hair back, but here, let me share my sour, crispy curls with you as proof.”
He sighed and passed her an elastic band from a pot on his desk.
Kate resisted the urge to flick it at him, feeling like a moody teenager as she fastened her hair back again to stop herself from gagging.
If it wasn’t for the fact she really needed the job, she’d have got up and walked out just for the satisfaction of the flounce.
As it was, she put her shoulders back and acted like the grown-ass mature woman she was.
“Would I need to use my actual name?”
He paused and gave her question due consideration. “Would you prefer not to?”
She chewed the inside of her lip, thinking. “If I’m going to view it as playing a role, I think I’d find it easier if it’s not my real name.”
“I’d suggest you keep Kate so it feels natural when someone addresses you, but I can help you settle on a different surname, perhaps?”
The idea of reinventing herself as a completely new Kate wasn’t entirely without appeal.
“Can I know who the actual author is?”
“No. And I think that’s for the best, because then you wouldn’t need to guard the secret.”
She folded her arms and looked at him levelly across the desk. “Is it you?”
His eyes opened a little wider, startled. “Why do you ask that?”
She raised her eyebrows. “You look like a guy who wouldn’t admit to writing love stories.”
“I’d be proud as hell if I’d written this one,” he said after a few silent seconds.
“But what if I have questions about the story? Surely I need to know it inside out so I can field anything that’s thrown my way?”
He loosened the knot of his tie a fraction as he swallowed. “Perhaps a good first step would be for you to read the book?” He pushed the manuscript toward her. “Think of it as being sent a script to read, see if you connect with it, if it gives you the magic feeling.”
“Now you do sound like your father,” she said, because however different Charlie was from Jojo Francisco, “the magic feeling” was a phrase she’d heard in this office several times before.
“I learned from the best,” he said. “I realize it’s an unconventional role, not what you came here expecting. I’d make sure you’re well remunerated for your time, if you decide to take it, naturally.”
His words grounded her, a reminder that her pockets were light and her options were limited.
“Can I take a couple of days to read it before I decide?”
“Of course,” he said, getting to his feet to see her out. “Take as long as you need.”
Charlie Francisco wasn’t at all like his father in appearance or demeanor. Jojo had been paternal but unpredictable; being around him had set her nerves on edge. Charlie was a different Francisco altogether. Definitely not paternal, and he set her nerves jangling in a whole other way.
—
She’d been concerned that she’d be one of several people up for whatever role Charlie Francisco had her in mind for, but as she headed toward the train station with the manuscript stashed safely in her bag, she had a sneaking realization that he didn’t have anyone else anonymous enough for the job on his books. He was asking her to be a ghost author.