8
It was starting to dawn on Brody that getting paid to read might be the best job in the world. He was able to sit back, relax, and dive into a story that hadn’t yet been released to the world. It was much like being an explorer, embarking on some new adventure without knowing what to expect.
For the most part, the submissions he worked his way through weren’t very enticing. Finding those he imagined the masses would find appealing took time. But this did give him hope for the book he and his friends had written, for it was surely better than most of what was in his slush pile.
A week had now passed since he’d started at Hudson & Co., and he decided the time had come for him to address his reason for being there in the first place. So when he arrived at work, he took a moment to greet everyone and prepare a pot of tea for himself. Once this was done, he settled into his chair and, using his desk as a shield, retrieved the manuscript from his satchel.
He slipped it onto the top of the pile and started to read the familiar words. A grin pulled at his lips as Anthony’s writing made him laugh. What a great visual this was, of the hero cursing his mother’s meddlesome ways. The internal thoughts were hilarious, both acerbic and sarcastic.
Leaning back, he stretched out his legs, then crossed them at the ankles and turned the page. There was no doubt in his mind this writing was better than most of what he’d enjoyed this past week. Only two other manuscripts had shown promise, with neither being romantic in nature. He’d recommended both – a travel journal and an adventure novel - to Mr. Hudson.
One hour later, he’d finished perusing the first three chapters ofA Seductive Scandal. Time to implement the next part of his plan. He straightened and set the manuscript on his desk. “This is really good.”
“What is?” Mr. Hudson asked, his attention on a letter he appeared to be writing.
“This book.” Brody stood, picked up the manuscript, and strode across to Mr. Hudson’s desk. “It’s a romance novel from what I gather, written with a touch of humor.
Mr. Hudson stilled. He set his quill aside and gave Brody his full attention. “Let me see.”
Heart thumping harder than ever, Brody handed him the book he and his friends had pinned their dreams on. He held his breath as Mr. Hudson located the first page and started to read.
“Hmm…” He continued onto page two. “Yes. This does hold promise. With Miss Austen’s death last year, the publishing industry has been clamoring for a new author of her capabilities. I’ll take this home with me tonight and see if the rest is as good as the start. Thank you, Mr. Evans. This could prove a game changing find for us all.”
A game changing find?
Brody bubbled with excitement. It was all he could do not to thank Mr. Hudson profusely. But that would probably look suspicious. So he did his best to maintain a calm demeanor. Adding a nod of acknowledgement, he moved away from Mr. Hudson’s desk.
“Oh, one more thing,” Mr. Hudson said, halting Brody’s retreat. “I’d like to review the first test run ofThrough the Jungle. Mr. Michaels promised it would be ready today. Can you please fetch it for me?”
“Certainly.” Brody exited the front office space and approached the print room.
He pushed the door open and paused in the doorway. On the previous occasions he’d come here, the room had either been quiet, the workers mostly gone for the day, or he’d been too intent on his purpose to notice the work taking place. He did so now, noting the two large men who worked the press. One was adding ink while another raised and lowered parts with the use of a lever. Paper was swept in and out of the contraption with expert speed and blocks of text imprinted on the fresh sheets.
To the right sat Mr. Michaels, together with another slightly older man who perched on a stool with a manuscript in his hands. It was the same chap who’d come to fetch Mr. Michaels when Brody had tried to invite him out for a drink. The chap read while Mr. Michaels prepared the blocks of text to be printed.
Brody stared. The grace of the young man’s movements, the swiftness with which he completed the task and had the block sent to the press, was a marvel to behold.
Unwilling to interrupt, he kept quiet until a natural break emerged when the man who was reading moved to the next page.
Brody cleared his throat. “Forgive the intrusion, but Mr. Hudson asked me to fetch the first copy ofThrough the Jungle. He believes it ought to be ready?”
Mr. Michaels’s gaze met his and held for a couple of seconds, as though it took time for his brain to acknowledge Brody’s presence. He suddenly blinked. “Right. Of course. I’ll, um…”
“If you point me in the right direction I can fetch it,” Brody said.
“I’m actually feeling like it might be time for a break,” the man who’d been reading announced. He stood and stuck out his hand for Brody to shake. “We’ve not been properly introduced yet. I’m Oliver Tomkins, and those two blokes over there are James Dorsey and Matthew Jenkins.”
Brody accepted the handshake. “Pleased to meet you.”
“What say you?” Mr. Tomkins asked Mr. Michaels. “Shall we take ten minutes?”
Mr. Michaels frowned at his colleague. “Five is all we have time for with luncheon approaching within the next hour.”
“Good enough.” The colleague headed toward the exterior door, calling for the other two men who wielded the press to join him. Within a few seconds, only Brody and Mr. Michaels remained.
“It’s right over here,” Mr. Michaels said, his gaze darting away from Brody as he started forward. In his rush, he must have forgotten to watch his step, for he didn’t quite clear the stool on which his colleague had been sitting and promptly tripped.
Instinctively, Brody reached out and grabbed his arm, which forced him to notice two things. First, Mr. Michaels was slimly built beneath his wool jacket and shirt. Second, he lacked the muscle one might expect from a youth his age.
