“Apology accepted,” Leah said. “Anyway, who cares? They’ll remember Todd Milstead as a proper writer. Someone who gets moody and mumbles and,” Leah removed a wine bottle from Todd’s table, “gets drunk incredibly quickly. It’s what people want from writers.”

“I’m glad to confirm the stereotype,” said Todd. He put the lid back on his pen and stretched out his arms.

“Good work,” said Leah. “I think we sold a lot of books tonight, considering.”

“Considering what?” said Todd.

“Considering you’re a jerk,” said Leah, and kissed him.

*  *  *

Todd didn’t know how he ended up at his hotel with Leah, or how they got into bed together and fucked the night away, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. There had been a cab, a few fumblings, a fairly violent entrance into the room, door banging open and shut, more fumbling on the couch, and then the bed. None of it seemed to have any logic, or flow, and there was no talking, which was remarkable for Todd. Todd and Leah just fucked like there was no tomorrow.

The next day did not begin how Todd expected. Leah got out of bed and ordered room service. Then she took a long shower and proceeded to act like she owned the place. She sat on the bed, one leg crossed under the other, reading the morning papers. Todd had no idea where the papers had come from, but there were a lot more than there had been yesterday.

Leah flicked through the pile, pulling out the parts she didn’t want and dropping them onto the floor. Soon she had filleted them to just the review sections, and was now dumping movies, television, and music.

“Those are my newspapers, you know,” said Todd.

“Like you’re going to read the theater section,” said Leah, parachuting another sheaf into the air. “I’m just saving you time.”

She leaned over. “You take the East Coast, I’ll take the West.”

*  *  *

Every paper had reviewed All My Colors. Every paper loved All My Colors. The Atlanta Bugle had, its reviewer confessed, initially had a few reservations but these were all, it reassured its uneasy readers, swept away by the end of the fourth chapter. All the reviews used words like “triumph,” “success,” and “tour de force.”

None of them, Todd noted, used words like “blockbuster” or “bestseller.”

“That’s because these are literary reviews,” explained Leah. “You don’t want to descend to the level of the hoi polloi and start talking about money and success. But relax, Todd, this really is a bestseller. In hardback, too.”

“Okay,” said Todd.

“You say that a lot,” said Leah. “‘Okay,’ and ‘good,’ and ‘that’s great.’ It’s like you’re on hold or something.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Todd said.