The Devil You Know (31 page)
‘It’s meant to be striking.’ Tony smirked. ‘I know what you’re thinking, love, but watch this.’ He picked up the two books and balanced them against the bookshelf on the far wall. ‘Now take a step back.’ He pulled Daisy over to stand by the window. ‘See?’
She did. Even with the other books’ brightly coloured covers, there was no mistaking Lemon Grove. It screamed back at her as though it had been on fire. The two different acid colours were even
more obvious when they were contrasted next to each other. ‘Ah,’ Daisy said, thrilled. ‘I’d pick them up.’ ‘And that’s half the sale,’ Tony informed her.
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It took Daisy six months of rewrites, and when finally, exhausted, she handed the book in, Fenella told her it wouldn’t be published until next year.
‘But why?’ Daisy asked, disappointed.
Fenella smiled gently at Daisy’s gutted face. ‘Look, it takes about nine months for copy-editing, type-setting, promotion, proof copies, marketing … about the same time as a baby. We’ll start planning and writing book two. And publication will be here before you know it.’
The Lemon Grove was published.in July, just in time for the August holiday season. Fenella told Daisy she had written an instant classic; ‘the ultimate beach read’.
‘Wow, I just hope you’re right.’
‘I’m always right,’ Fenella said with supreme confidence.
And she was. Artemis was excited about the book, and the marketing push got it out there. Tony’s neon covers screamed at browsers in chains across the country; there were dump-bins, point of-sale material, posters, and even ads on buses.
‘That won’t work by itself,’ Fenella warned Daisy when she rang up, thrilled, because she’d seen a bus with her book cover plastered across it. ‘It only means the book has a chance. People will see it. After that, the work has to stand by itself. Which it will.’
It didn’t take long for the company to know they had a success on their hands. Daisy got her first phone call from Fenella within a month.
‘Daisy? It’s Fenella.’
‘Hi,’ said Daisy, desperately trying to appear casual. Her fingers were white-knuckled, gripping the receiver. She was a first novelist. If it didn’t go well for her now, her new career, her new life would be stillborn.
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‘I have good news.’
‘OK,’ Daisy said, but there were tears in her eyes. She exhaled raggedly.
‘You’re a hit. Our first printing has completely sold out. We’re reprinting right now.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ Daisy said, gleefully.
When she hung up, she danced around the room.
A week later, it was Publicity who were calling.
‘People are surprised. This kind of novel is supposed to be dead. It’s all murder mysteries and financial thrillers out there right now,’ Helen Moxie told her. Moxie was the head of the Artemis publicity department, and she was on the phone telling Daisy her publicity schedule. ‘They find it strange you’re having such success with a romance. So, you have the itinerary?’
‘Yes,’ Daisy said, feeling a bit fraudulent.
‘There’ll be a first-class ticket to London waiting for you, and I’ll be there half an hour before your first interview, just to make sure things go smoothly, OK? Don’t worry, you’ll be great.’
‘I suppose I don’t see what the point is,’ Daisy said tremulously, ‘I mean, it’s a fictional story, what’s interesting about talking to te writer?’
‘Just think of it as free advertising. See you Thursday.’
On Wednesday afternoon her father drove her to the station. ‘We’re so proud of you, darling. Doing all the interviews, it’s marvellous. You’re a big star.’
‘I’m not, Dad, shut up,’ Daisy said, but the truth was she was excited.
‘Have fun. See you soon.’ Her father kissed her and handed her her little suitcase.
Daisy walked into the station and picked up her first-class train ticket. She didn’t think she’d ever travelled first class in her life. The carriage was mostly empty and had slightly wider seats, which were a different colour, and had little tissue things-on the top.
Big fat hairy wow, Daisy thought, but she still revelled in it. Why not? Artemis was footing the bill.
When the drinks trolley trundled past Daisy ordered a gin and tonic. To hell with it. This was a celebration.
Her hotel was the Halkin, very upscale, with a Japanese d&cor mingling with funky Jackson Pollock-esque abstract paintings. Not
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Daisy’s cup ofea but, just like the train, that really wasn’t the point. The point was her publishers thought she was worth spending the money on.
Fenella had taught her a lot more than good storytelling. She had
educated Daisy on the realities of publishing and Daisy knew now that every penny they spent on promotion and publicity showed their commitment to her.
She was being groomed to be the next big thing, and she loved it. Helen Moxie arrived bang on time the next morning, but Daisy was already waiting for her in the lobby. If her publishers were going to be this helpful, she at least wanted to show willing. It couldn’t hurt to be professional.
‘Mm, very nice.’ Helen took in her outfit: boot-cut black Joseph
trousers and a cute little silky top, teamed with Daisy’s long, loose hair and a pair of dangling Moroccan silver earrings. ‘I wish it was
TV and not radio. You look cute. Are you ready?’
‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ Daisy said.
She spent the morning having desultory interviews with bored
reporters from the tabloids and the Evening Standard who kept asking
her about her sex life.
‘Your men really like that, D. aisy?’
‘Into bed-hopping, are ya?’
‘Jason’s a bit of a strong man, ain’t he? You into bondage, then?’
Daisy tried not to get flustered, but she couldn’t help it. ‘I’m sorry,
I don’t discuss my private life’ didn’t seem to cut it.
‘Try to be quotable,’ hissed Helen. ‘Say, “I read it in Cosmo, that’s
my story and I’m sticking to it.”’
‘Right,’ Daisy said, trying not to get upset.
After lunch a taxi took her to That Radio Place. They signed in in
the lobby, got little laminated badges that said ‘Visitor’, and then Helen led Daisy up in the elevator to an anonymous warren of corridors that looked and smelled like school. She had the surreal experience of being ‘interviewed’ down-the-line; Daisy sat in a booth with headphones over her ears and a mike in front of her and nobody else there, while they piped a show from ladio Scotland or P,.adio Tyneside into her ears and she had to interact with some phantom DJ. She didn’t think it was too bad, apart from the watery coffee in the plastic cups, and she had just about recovered from the morning’s nastiness when she was taken to Max Radio 96.3 in Camden.
‘This is the biggest thing we’ve been able to get you,’ Helen said.
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‘It’s Mutt and Jeff It’s really important. They go out almost nationally, you can get this station in Oxford.’
‘I know, I used to listen,’ Daisy said, feeling slightly worried. Mutt and Jeff were ‘shock jocks’. The UK’s answer to Howard Stern, they had a huge audience, they were always getting bleeped, and they were funny but mercilessly cruel to a lot of their guests.
‘I think you can take them on. Just flirt with Jeff. Mutt’s gay, so that won’t help you any.’ Helen took in Daisy’s anxious look. ‘It’s the audience, Daisy. They’re such huge publicity. You couldn’t pay for it. Just plug the book every chance you get.’
‘No problem,’ Daisy said, though she thought it might be.
‘Well luck me,’ Jeff said.
Daisy, with the headphones on, was stuck in the Mutt and Jeff booth. It was decorated with posters of girls with their tits out, presumably not Mutt’s choice.
The two radio superstars were small men who had spots and looked mean as hungry ferrets.
‘No thanks, mate, not my type,’ Mutt giggled in that famous
high-pitched squeak.
‘She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? A right bit of totty. Want to pose’for
the Jeff cam, sugar? I wouldn’t mind looking at those jugs all da}.’
Daisy wondered if she should get up and walk out, just cut her
losses.
‘No thanks, Jeff…’
‘But sex is your thing, ain’t it?’ Daisy saw with horror that he had
Lemon Grove open in front of him. He flipped to a pre-marked page
and started to read out loud one of her hottest sex scenes. ‘Bugger
me! Went to Oxford, didn’t you?’
‘Not the University.’
‘Is that what they teach you there? Sex Ed?’ He was ignoring her.
‘No, for that I tuned into the Mutt and Jeff show,’ Daisy said.
He hadn’t expected that. ‘Faithful listener, were you?’
‘Sure. Nobody does puerile sarcasm like you two. Students love
that kind of thing.’
‘And nobody does sex like Daisy Markham?’ needled Jeff.
Well,’ said Daisy, ‘if everybody buys The Lerno Gro’e they can
find that out for themselves.’
‘But your book is full of sex. You otta be a sex maniac. I bet
you’re great in bed. Why do you think you got on this show?’
‘Most trashy novels have sex in them,’ Daisy said firmly, ‘because
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people do have sex. Not people that look like you two, obviously. But other people.’ She leaned closer to her mike. ‘I wish you guys out there could see what a couple of skinny pizza-faced bastards these two are. Reading from my book is probably the best sex Jeff’s had all year.’
Behind the glass partition she could see Helen Moxie gaping at her in utter horror. Daisy looked defiantly at the DJs, but they didn’t seem to mind.
‘Ooh,’ said Mutt, delighted. ‘It’s got teeth.’
‘Make a lot of money, do ya?’ Jeff said. His tone was fractionally less mean now.
‘Why don’t you find another hot passage and read it out on the air? Then I’ll make even more,’ Daisy said, grinning.
When the bit went off air for commercials, skinny Jeff reached out and shook her hand.
‘Well done,’ he said, ‘great radio.’
The papers were full of it the next morning. Daisy had been just about the only girl ever to take Mutt and Jeff on. The following week, sales of The Lemon Grove, which they plugged for three days, doubled.
‘Daisy, my love,’ said Fenella when she called her with the latest figures, ‘I think a star has been born.’
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So here she was again.
It was eight-twenty on Monday morning. There was a crisp chill in the air, and New York was bustling with the Fall’s back-to-work energy. Business men and women scurried past her in their dark suits, clutching paper cups, with the Greek key design on them, full of steaming coffee; a little warmth and caffeine to kick the day off right. Lots of Brooks Brothers navy and black out today, Rose thought. Ambition in the air.
And plenty of it here, at Rothstein Realty.
She had been sixteen when she came here last, scamming her,yeay in to see William Rothstein. Six years later she had turned twefl, ty two. But she remembered everything about that day. Was William
still in PR, still at extension II567 ‘
The office buildings had not changed one bit. The sleek granite casing of the midtown skyscraper still glittered in the thin sunlight. Rose took a deep breath and walked into the lobby.
Yes, it was as she remembered. Marble streaked with the palest pink. Receptionists in pearls, oriental rugs. They’d changed the art, but it was the same sort of stuff. Stuff that screamed dollars.
A group of kids her own age were clustered around reception. There were about twelve of them; only one was a girl, a keen looking chick in a nondescript fawn dress and cardigan. Rose was xvearing a Donna Karan navy suit, cut beautifully, with a skirt that sat just above the knee. She had teamed it with a pair of CK pumps, plain gold studs in her ears, neutral make-up, and a leather-strapped watch.
It had been a rookie error to let Jake see her in Chanel. No need to draw attention to the money she had. Rose didn’t want anybody
at this place noticing her until she’d got what she wanted.
She walked over to join the others.
‘Hi.’ Rose smiled at them briskly. ‘I’m Rose Fiorello.’
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people do have sex. Not people that look like you two, obviously. But other people.’ She leaned closer to her mike. ‘I wish you guys out there could see what a couple of skinny pizza-faced bastards these two are. Reading from my book is probably the best sex Jeff’s had all year.’
Behind the glass partition she could see Helen Moxie gaping at her in utter horror. Daisy looked defiantly at the DJs, but they didn’t seem to mind.
‘Ooh,’ said Mutt, delighted. ‘It’s got teeth.’
‘Make a lot of money, do ya?’ Jeff said. His tone was fractionally less mean now.
‘Why don’t you find another hot passage and read it out on the air? Then I’ll make even more,’ Daisy said, grinning.
When the bit went off air for commercials, skinny Jeff reached out and shook her hand.
‘Well done,’ he said, ‘great radio.’
The papers were full of it the next morning. Daisy had been just about the only girl ever to take Mutt and Jeff on. The following week, sales of The Lemon Grove, which they plugged for three days, doubled.
‘Daisy, my love,’ said Fen˘lla when she called her with the latest figures, ‘I think a star has been born.’
BI8
So here she was again.
It was eight-twenty on Monday morning. There was a crisp chill in the air, and New York was bustling with the Fall’s back-to-work energy. Business men and women scurried past her in their dark suits, clutching paper cups, with the Greek key design on them, full of steaming coffee; a little warmth and caffeine to kick the day off right. Lots of Brooks Brothers navy and black out today, Rose thought. Ambition in the air.
And plenty of it here, at Rothstein Realty.
She had been sixteen when she came here last, scamming hr.way in to see William Rothstein. Six years later she had turned twenty two. But she remembered everything about that day. Was William still in PR, still at extension II56?
