to do things for free.
Geoff said “Ceauşescu” had already been chosen as an alternate selection for the Book-of-the-Month Club; it was an IndieBound pick; Big Box Books had chosen it for its “3B’s Breath of Fresh Writers” program; rights had been sold in more than a dozen countries, though not yet in Anya’s native Romania; the audiobook was being recorded by Stockard Channing; Gwyneth Paltrow’s film company, which needed a “prestige project,” had already put a bid on an option; Redbook would be running an excerpt. Plus, advance praise for Anya’s book was stellar—starred reviews in Library Journal, PW, and Kirkus. Every blurb Geoff had gotten for the book was incredible too, he said, especially the one from Blade Markham.
Geoff’s enthusiasm for Anya’s work wouldn’t have bothered me so much if he had said something, anything positive about Thieves, but it was clear that he didn’t regard its author and Ceauşescu’s in the same light—Anya was the genius and I was the hack who would make some money for a publisher so it could sign up more “good writers” like her. Even when he was flattering me, Geoff couldn’t help but remind me that I would never match Anya. I hated him for this. And when the time came for me to reveal the truth, I knew I wouldn’t feel the least bit bad about having betrayed him.
BURNING DOWN MY MASTER’S HOUSE
Geoff Olden sent out Thieves to half a dozen publishers on a Friday, then called me during my morning jog to tell me not to expect anything exciting to happen soon. One of his most important jobs, he said, was to “manage authors’ expectations.” Then he told me he had to take another call—the art director of Lucky was on the line. “Masako” wanted to do a photo shoot with his “Russian author,” but he wouldn’t say yes until he’d approved the photographer, something upon which he’d been insisting ever since Details had published pictures of Blade Markham shirtless, just as the author had requested, but had airbrushed out his gang and prison tattoos.
When I called Roth to ask how long I should expect to wait for Geoff’s call, he said that if Geoff didn’t call within a week to tell me about a deal, it would be time for us to find a new agent.
“Things happen quickly or they don’t happen at all,” Roth said. “When people think there’s money to be made, they don’t wait around.”
Three days later, my phone rang and, when I picked up, I heard Isabelle DuPom—“I have Geoff Olden on the line,” she said.
“You’ll want to sit down for this,” Geoff told me.
When I met Olden at his office, he was oozing more self-satisfaction than he usually did. He was wearing his eckleburgs up on his head. He rubbed his hands, then tapped the fingertips of one hand against the palm of the other. Every move he made seemed rehearsed to create maximum suspense.
“I’ve only had the manuscript out for seventy-two hours, and I already have three offers, Ian,” said Geoff. “But there’s one on the table from Merrill, and I think we’d be loco not to take it.”
I regarded Geoff blankly. “Which editor?” I asked.
Olden cackled, put his eckleburgs back on, then looked at me as if ready to play an ace.
“Rowell Templen,” he said. He waited for me to look either interested or surprised, but something felt wrong to me.
“This is a win-win-win-win, Ian,” Geoff continued. “Rowell’s young, he’s smart, he’s still hungry, he’s an up-and-comer. What do you think of him?”
“What do I think of him? I think you’re sitting on him,” I said, and when Geoff seemed not to understand, I said, “That guy’s an ass.”
Geoff smiled oddly. “I’m sorry?” he asked, and so I launched into every reason why I didn’t want Rowell Templen working on my book: Thieves wasn’t the right project for some oily opportunist only four years out of Princeton and only two years out of the Columbia Publishing Course. I was remembering something Roth had told me—one day, everything Templen had edited would be more closely scrutinized. I figured I needed a more experienced editor, one with an unassailable reputation.
“I’m not sure you heard me. I don’t want to work with him,” I said. “Who else have you got?”
“Do you know who Rowell Templen edits, Ian?” asked Geoff.
I said I knew he edited Blade Markham.
“And what do you have to say to that?”
“I’d say it serves them both right.”
“Do you even care how much