THE LAST ROMANTICS by Elizabeth Malin

THE LAST ROMANTICS by Elizabeth Malin: Chapters Twelve and Thirteen

JIM WAS THE one who gave Kate the courage to take on Ranier. He'd insisted, in their snow-dampened dinner the night before, that she not call the agent back at nine the next day but whenever the hell she felt like it.

Then, in the morning, obviously seeing the worry in her eyes, and, after discovering she'd spent a good part of the night up and working, he asked her, point-blank: "What do you want from Ranier? What do you not want?"

It was the second question that helped the most.

With stunning clarity, it led her to the answer: she didn't want Ranier's representation. Not unless she was calling to say she had an editor dying to buy Kate's work at that moment.

Ranier didn't really "get" her as a writer, not if she represented some romancey novelist—Kate had had a chance to research the author whose books had been so prominently displayed in Ranier's office, and she was a commercial writer, someone whose books had done well, one even hitting a best-seller list. Kate began to see, as she talked things over with Jim, that Ranier might have found her attractive as a potential client because of her romance background, her ability to sell there. She'd reap the commissions from any of those future sales, and how much would she really push Kate's serious stuff? Kate's work in romance would be used to bankroll Ranier's representation of literary authors whose advances and commissions wouldn't keep the lights on.

"What you need is someone who can just negotiate the romance contracts but really push for the literary stuff," Jim told her as he refilled her coffee mug.

"What should I do about the Rutherford papers?" she asked.

"Well, I don't think you should have let her have a copy, but that water's under the bridge." He sat down opposite her at their small kitchen table. "You want some eggs or something?" he asked. When she shook her head no, he went on. "I'd tell her you're publishing a paper related to them, and their provenance will be laid out in that work. Tell her you have a lawyer handling it."

"Or another agent." Malcolm Gordon—he wanted to see more of her stuff. She'd emailed him the full coming-of-age story, but could he help her with the Rutherford material? She mentioned this to Jim.

"Mmm, I don't know if I'd drag another agent into it. You want him excited about you, not this find of yours. Maybe ask his advice after you snag him." He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "And you will. Just make sure you want him, even if he wants you!"

After breakfast, she shared her Ranier woes with Marie and Jackie, too, and got the usual Agents Suck emails in return. She could have written them herself. But it didn't matter. It only mattered that they understood, just as Jim had.

***

With Jim's encouragement ringing in her ears, she phoned Malcolm Gordon after showering and changing. She didn't call Ranier. She knew she'd just sent Malcolm her manuscript, but she wanted to talk to him, to get a sense if she should even bother hoping he was right for her.

To her surprise, he took her call. She squared her shoulders and, in a strong, businesslike voice, told him she wanted to chat as he started to read her story.

"I've already read it," he said simply before she had a chance to go through the list of items she'd intended to talk about. "And I like it."

She was speechless. Did this mean he was offering representation?

"Yes?

"It's good, Kate—may I call you Kate? I really enjoyed it."

"But..." She heard it in his voice. There was a "but." There was always a "but." Her shoulders sagged.