But I could hear the hope in his voice.
“Not a problem. I know what to do, and I can get it set up quickly. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”
“Really? Are you sure? I can’t thank you enough. Val’s been bugging me to get my ass in gear, but it’s hard to keep up.”
“I know. I remember. Success is a mystical combination of things—right place, right time, resonating with enough people to get the buzz going, or that one influential person who can make or break you and, of course, having the actual cred.”
“I know. And I know if I could just get that one big review from one of those popular magazines, it would be the break we need. My food is damn good.”
“It is. And I told you I’m happy to give you a feature in the blog.”
As I knew it would, Mike’s reply came swift and strong. “No. I appreciate it, but I’m going to do this on my own, like you did. You didn’t get any breaks, and you’re a huge success. I need to do the same.”
While I admired my brother for wanting to stand on his own feet, his stubbornness drove me crazy sometimes. “Everyone in this business uses their connections to get ahead. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“I’m already getting free advice and a free website from you. That’s enough for now.”
Arguing with him was useless. “Okay. I’ll start working on the website today, and I should have something for you tonight. When you redo the menu, email it to me.”
“You got it. Talk to you later.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Same.”
All through the afternoon while I worked on the website, Mike’s words nagged at me. While I understood his need for independence, he was being shortsighted, and it frustrated me. He deserved to be spotlighted in a magazine likeUltimate NYC, but not by an elitist prick like Martinelli, who no doubt had picked up his food knowledge from eating with a silver spoon at high-priced restaurants all his life.
An idea popped up in my mind, and before I lost my nerve and talked myself out of it, I picked up the phone. “Hello, may I speak to Edward Harvey? It’s Salvatore Grant.”
“One moment, please.”
I waited less than thirty seconds, which was good because I was beginning to have second thoughts.
“Salvatore, nice to hear from you.”
“Hi, Edward, thanks for taking my call. I read today thatUltimateis taking a new direction with its restaurant reviews.”
He chuckled. “We are. I’m sure you can appreciate what we’re trying to do.”
“Caving to a drop in subscriptions?” I sucked in my breath, shocked at my own gall. Edward Harvey was an icon in publishing, and I was nothing more than an upstart. True, though I was an upstart with a readership growing by leaps and bounds.
“It’s a tough world out there, as you know,” he said, a bit frosty. “What can I help you with?”
Realizing my mistake, I scrambled to make up for my big mouth. “I’m gratified and excited that you’re taking this new direction with your vision. There are so many restaurants in the city, especially the outer boroughs, that never get the exposure they deserve. I’d like to offer you a list of restaurants I’ve had my eye on for the past several years for you to send your reviewers. If you’re interested, of course. I thought it would be good for us to show the community that we aren’t—despite what some of your reviewers might think—enemies. If we take the chance, we might find that we’re more alike than different.”
“And it would help you, of course, to be associated with a magazine established in the city for over forty years.”
“Yes, it would. I can’t deny it.” I’d take the blame for trying to brownnose if it meant getting exposure for my brother’s restaurant.
“I like it. You’re a smart guy and a go-getter. Reminds me of myself at that age.”
“That’s the highest compliment I’ve ever been given—even more so because it’s coming from you. There’s no one I have more respect for.”
“Me, but not my reviewers, I’m assuming.”
My heart sank. “You’re referring to Martinelli?”
“You can’t deny your animus toward him. It seems almost personal.” He paused. “Have you ever met him or perhaps had a personal relationship with him?”
