When he first moves here, he can’t get enough of the National Mall and all the trappings of living in the nation’s capital. But after the first few cherry blossom seasons, Independence Day celebrations, protests, and inaugurations, he mainly stays away from the federal buildings. Access to so much culture, art, and history comes with constant road closures for presidential motorcades, long lines, and the occasional odd inconvenience.
He realizes his mind is wandering when Biz pats his knee. “Caleb, are you okay?”
“I’m tired. Good tired, but tired.”
“Well, to the extent you’re tired from working on The Takedown, it was worth it.”
He feels like a kid, eager for a gold star. “Really? You like it?”
“I love it. You hit all the notes. You wrote with real control and confidence. You’re maturing as a writer. That’s not to say The Payback isn’t good—it’s great—but this is stronger.”
He gives a shaky laugh. “I’m so glad to hear it.”
He’s trying to figure out how to ask when he’ll get the money when she says, “Speaking of The Payback, did you see? You’re on the list.”
He stares at her, sure that he’s misheard or misunderstood. “What list?”
“The New York Times bestseller list, Caleb. The Payback debuted at fourteen. Fourteen—for your first novel!”
“Are you sure?”
She gives him a look. “I’m sure. You’re on the list.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Well, you should. You deserve it.”
He sips the too-sweet, not-hot-enough coffee. Biz likes her coffee with a lot of sugar and syrup, which apparently means her writers are supposed to as well.
“How much of it, though, is from—” he trails off, not wanting to give voice to the thought.
She knows what he means, though. She clasps the coffee between her hands, lowers her chin. “Look at me.”
He does.
“Is it good marketing that there was an attack in Turkey? I’m not going to say it didn’t help your book. That’s just a fact. Sometimes a book gets ripped from the headlines. Sometimes life imitates art. You didn’t plan for it. You didn’t make it happen. You shouldn’t feel bad about it.”
She’s right.
“And, speaking of good marketing, I have great news.”
He leans forward, eager to hear what she’s cooked up.
“The publisher is delaying publication, but before you panic—this is good news. And it’s only be a two-month delay.”
His stomach drops. “How is delaying my paycheck good news?”
“Because we’re turning it into a publicity event. You’re keynoting a First Amendment gala. Major media coverage. We’re framing The Takedown as the book powerful forces tried to suppress. Preorders will be through the roof.”
He should feel excited. This is the kind of publicity most authors dream about. But all he can think about is the second half of the advance that won’t come through for another sixty days minimum.
“Caleb? You okay?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” He rubs his eyes. “It’s great. Really. I just—we need that money.”
“I know.” Her voice softens. “But listen, I’m booking you on some morning shows, radio programs, a bunch of podcasts. We’ll ride The Payback’s success and build massive anticipation for The Takedown. By the time it releases, you’ll be everywhere. The publicity will be worth more than the advance in the long run.”
“In the long run doesn’t pay for diapers this month.” He burns with shame as he says it, but it’s true.
