"You've got another new book?"
Christopher's eyes lit up immediately.
Bruce laughed. "Christopher, I'm starting to think you'd make a decent wizard. You always seem to know what's coming."
Christopher rolled his eyes.
"Bruce, I've known you for almost half a year now. If I still didn't understand your writing pace, then the last twenty years I spent as a publishing agent were a complete waste."
Bruce smiled, opened his briefcase, and pulled out two neatly bound stacks of manuscript pages.
"Finished it the day before yesterday."
Christopher leaned in and read the title.
"Bruce's Storytime? Let me see it."
He reached for it at once.
At this point, every new Bruce manuscript meant one thing to Christopher: more money. A lot more money. There was no point pretending otherwise.
Bruce pulled the pages back before he could grab them.
"You can read it when we get to the office. You're driving, and I'd rather not die young."
Christopher looked like a child being denied candy.
Then he hit the gas.
Since Bruce refused to hand over the manuscript, Christopher decided the next best thing was getting to the office as fast as possible. The result was a ride that felt more like a chase scene than a trip through Manhattan traffic. By the time they reached the building, Christopher had collected several tickets, most of them for running lights, but he clearly couldn't have cared less.
Bruce, meanwhile, stepped out of the car regretting every decision that had led him there.
The moment Christopher got his hands on the manuscript, his mood improved instantly.
"Bruce's Storytime, Book One: Finding Nemo?"
Bruce was still dealing with the lingering dizziness from Christopher's driving and answered in a voice that sounded thinner than usual.
"It's split into two volumes. Finding Nemo and Where's Dory? It's aimed at the children's market."
Christopher was already flipping pages.
"This is excellent, Bruce. Here's what we should do. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is almost ready too. Add Finding Nemo to that, and we put together a signing event in New York."
Bruce looked at him. "A signing event?"
Christopher was already getting excited.
"Yes. Start in New York, then move on to Boston, DC, Chicago, San Francisco, Los Angeles, then London, Paris, Berlin. With your name and Rowling's name on the same tour, plus the strength of the books, it would be huge. The new releases would explode."
The more he talked, the more convinced he sounded.
Bruce thought about it for a moment, then nodded.
"The signing event is a good idea. But I'm only doing New York."
Christopher looked up sharply.
"Only New York? Why?"
Bruce gave him a level look.
"Christopher, I'm not just a writer. I still have LinkedIn and Matrix to run. My schedule doesn't magically clear itself because you want a publishing roadshow."
That reminded Christopher that Bruce wasn't only a bestselling author. He was also a real businessman with several companies demanding his time.
Even so, Christopher didn't want to let go.
"Bruce, can't you carve out a little more space for this? If the tour works, it could make your name truly global."
Bruce's tone stayed calm.
"Christopher, I've already told you, I don't enjoy life under a spotlight. Fame is not an uncomplicated blessing to me."
That ended it.
Christopher knew that look. Bruce wasn't changing his mind.
"All right. Fine. We drop the rest of the tour. But you're definitely doing New York."
That was as far as he was willing to push. Whether for business reasons or because he genuinely liked Bruce, he wasn't going to force the issue.
Bruce smiled.
"Of course. I haven't seen Rowling in a while. I've actually missed her."
Then he added, almost casually, "Neil should be on break by now, right?"
Christopher blinked.
"Neil?" He nodded. "Exeter's on summer break, so he's free. He and Rowling are in Spain right now with Jessica."
Bruce's eyes shifted slightly.
"I see."
Then he said, "When you invite Rowling, tell Neil I'm inviting all three of them to New York for a few days. And remind him I still intend to be Jessica's godfather."
Christopher didn't think much of it.
"Sure. They're free anyway."
Bruce glanced at the way Christopher was still staring at the manuscript like a starving man staring at a steak, then stood up.
"I'm heading to the hotel to check in. Read it, and when you're done, mark up whatever changes you want."
Christopher nodded.
"Plaza Hotel. Rooms 312, 327, and 305. The first two are across from each other, just the way you asked. Your key is at the front desk downstairs."
Bruce paused.
"And the things I asked for?"
"They're there too." Christopher looked up from the manuscript. "But are you sure Molly actually cares about a Beckham signed jersey?"
Bruce smiled.
"Molly doesn't. Her brother does."
This trip to New York had two purposes. One was to check in on Thornbird Publishing.
The other was Molly Bevan.
More specifically, Molly and her younger brother, who was about to spend a year at Columbia as an exchange student.
Bruce had only spent a handful of real moments with Molly back in England in June, and they hadn't even talked that much in person. But after that, the two of them had exchanged emails or messages on ICQ almost every night. Three months of that kind of contact had done what short face-to-face meetings couldn't.
They knew each other now.
And Bruce had come to New York with a very clear intention.
He was going to win her over.
...
"So what does my future brother-in-law look like?"
The young man in the black T-shirt and baseball cap leaned back with a grin, his tone shamelessly amused.
Sitting beside him was Molly Bevan, all clean lines and quiet grace, like something too composed to belong in an airport terminal.
"Don't be ridiculous."
Her cheeks colored slightly, and she shot her brother a warning look.
Though they were full siblings, they might as well have been built from different material.
Molly was cool, reserved, and naturally self-contained. There was even a little pride in the way she carried herself.
Her younger brother, Al Bevan, was the exact opposite. Easygoing, loud, playful, and completely incapable of taking anything seriously for very long.
"What? I'm not making it up," Al said. "I saw the emails between you two..."
The moment the words left his mouth, he knew he'd gone too far.
Molly turned to him fully.
"Al. You went through my inbox again?"
He shrank a little.
"You left the computer open. I was curious."
Molly gave him a look that promised consequences.
"You..."
Before she could finish, a voice broke in from beside them.
"Hi. My name's Cross. Could I borrow that copy of The Hangover?"
A young man in a blue suit and gold-rimmed glasses had stepped over, smiling politely.
Al took one look at him and immediately understood the play. The guy wasn't there for the book. He was there because of Molly.
Normally Al might have enjoyed sabotaging him just for fun. But since this stranger had unintentionally saved him from getting lectured by his sister, he decided to be generous.
Molly, for her part, stayed perfectly composed.
"Of course."
She handed the book over.
"Thank you." The man accepted it, but didn't leave. "Would you mind giving me your number? That way I can return it when I'm done."
Molly's expression didn't change.
"That won't be necessary. I've already finished it, and we're boarding soon. You can keep it."
The man smiled more broadly.
"I couldn't possibly do that. I'm an Oxford MBA and a fund manager at Barings Asset Management. Borrowing something and not returning it would be a terrible habit for a man like me."
It was subtle, but not subtle enough.
He had slipped his credentials into the conversation on purpose, hoping the signal would land.
Al nearly laughed.
He had seen this kind of thing his whole life. And he knew exactly how badly it usually worked on Molly.
She gave the man a cool, polite smile.
"In that case, since your personal standards clearly matter so much to you, I think I'd better keep the book after all. Fortunately, it's sold in plenty of places across England. There's a bookstore right next to the terminal if you want your own copy."
Before the man could process what had just happened, Molly took the book back from his hand, stood up, and motioned for Al to come with her.
"Let's go."
As he rose, Al gave the man a final look.
"For what it's worth, since you accidentally helped me out a second ago, I'll tell you this. My sister isn't like the girls who gather around successful men because they like the packaging."
Then Molly's voice came from a few steps ahead.
"Al Bevan, if you say one more word, you can find your own way to New York."
Al immediately changed direction.
"Coming."
The man stood there for a moment, looking at his now empty hand, then at the siblings walking away.
A slow, amused smile spread across his face.
A friend in a black suit stepped up beside him.
"Oliver, that girl may be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
Oliver Baring glanced at him and said evenly, "Find out who Al Bevan is. I want everything on him and his family."
His friend smiled.
"No problem. Give me a week. By the time you're back from Holland, I'll have something for you."
Oliver nodded.
"If this works out, I won't forget the favor."
The man laughed softly.
"You helped me with that Dutch bank financing. I haven't forgotten either."
Oliver gave him a slight smile.
"My boarding time's up. Thanks for coming to see me off."
"See you."
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