The Write Choice

Chapter 3

Melanie woke the next morning groggy and a little hung over. Maybe the vodka tonics were stronger than she thought. Today was the meeting with the head of Dawson's Publishing at their downtown office--not too far from the Hyatt. She ordered waffles with berries again and a pot of coffee.

Chin brought up her breakfast and the power converter for her straightener. He grinned like a Cheshire cat when Melanie opened the door. Oh no, she thought, he'll be expecting another gigantic tip. Sure enough, he brought in the silver tray and proceeded to wait on her like she was the Queen of England. But Melanie knew the exchange rate now and the correct amount to tip him. His smile faded as she handed him the money. She felt like she had kicked a puppy. As he slumped his shoulders and turned to leave, Melanie called after him, "Thank you," as enthusiastically as she could.

Oh crap! What was a few more dollars to her?

When he was almost to the door, she ran back to her purse and grabbed a five. As she handed him the extra money, Melanie thought he was going to hug her. She once again had to practically push him out the door.

She flagged a cab outside the hotel and handed the driver the email she had received from the travel dept of Dawson with her itinerary. "Hello, I need to go to this address."

"You go here," he said.

She wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement. "Yes, I need to go to this address. Do you know where it is? It's called Dawson Publishing."

"Dawson Publishing," he repeated.

Once again, Melanie wasn't sure if this was a question or a statement.

"Do you know where it is?" She realized she was shouting again and wasn't sure if that helped or not.

"Yes, yes," he replied. " I know where this is."

Thank god, Melanie thought, as she clicked her seat belt and held-on for the ride.

The driver pulled up in front of a huge skyscraper that shot up forty stories in the air. She paid him and stepped out onto the sidewalk. For a city as large as Singapore, it was one of the cleanest she had ever been in. Maybe being tough on crime had its advantages. She didn't see a piece of liter anywhere and had felt perfectly safe last night sitting alone in a bar until late into the evening. There were still areas of San Francisco you couldn't walk through at night if you valued your health and your wallet.

The lobby was sleek and stark with white leather chairs and small couches surrounding irregular shaped white and gray tables that resembled flat pebbles. Bare Edison light bulbs hung from the ceiling. The receptionist was dressed in a floral jacquard fabric suit with a tailored silhouette and, of course, was thin. She greeted her with a fixed smile.

"Uh...hello...I have a meeting with Dawson Publishing," Melanie explained to the receptionist. "My name is Melanie Smart."

She looked at her computer. "Yes, they are expecting you. They're located on the twenty-second floor," she answered in a flat voice and motioned to the elevator.

"Thank you," Melanie said as she headed over to the elevator. As she pushed the up arrow, butterflies churned in her stomach. She wasn't sure what to expect. Dan had told her it was just going to be more of a social meeting where she could get to know the publishing team. Remember Me was such a small company, when Dan had become injured, Melanie was the natural choice to make the trip in his place. She had a minor in business from Berkeley and helped Dan occasionally when he was overloaded with paperwork. Melanie knew a lot about the business aspect of the company. She should be able to bluff her way through any questions she may be asked. Shouldn't she?