“There’s more to it than that. They’re starting to invest real money in you,” decidedly so with the last contract, “and I want them to invest more. They realize now that there’s a future here. It’s natural that they want to meet you.”
“I don’t know.” It was working for her and she didn’t want it to change. More and more, she realized how important it was for her readers, the public, and even her publishers to believe she was a man. And if she told the truth now about being a woman, her readers would feel betrayed. She was gathering momentum and an ever stronger readership, and she didn’t want to jeopardize that now, or ever. And she wanted the next two books to be even bigger successes than Blue Steel.
“Your publishers could get seriously pissed about it one day if you refuse to meet them. And there’s no way you can do publicity for the books if we’re hiding the fact that you’re a woman. And one day, you may need that to boost sales.”
“We’ll have to find another way to do it. Alexander Green writes the books, and that’s the way it’s going to stay.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but we may not be able to hold your publishers at bay forever. You’re on to a great thing here, with your own style and a powerful voice. It would come as a huge shock to everyone to discover that you’re a woman.” Not only that, she didn’t say, but a very young girl. “So how is New York treating you?” she asked with a smile. Alex looked adorable in her little navy suit, crisp white shirt, and long straight hair.
“I love it here.” She beamed at her. “It’s so exciting.”
“Yes, it is.” Rose smiled at her, feeling like her grandmother or a wise old aunt as much as her agent. She really liked Alex. She was a profoundly decent young girl, with good values, and her success wasn’t turning her head. She was very modest about her abilities, and Rose had suspected for a while that she would be enormously successful one day. She was willing to work hard, was amenable to editing, and had tremendous skill and dedication. The potential was all there.
“Would you ever want to live here?”
“I don’t know,” Alex said thoughtfully. “I don’t know if it’s too much for me. I love Boston, and living at the convent.” She had never expected it to be a long-term solution, but she had been there for almost seven years by then, it had become home to her, and the nuns like a houseful of mothers. “I haven’t figured out what I want to do when I graduate, except write, of course.”
“Eventually you’ll want more freedom and independence than you have at the convent.”
Alex nodded, but also knew she wasn’t ready for it yet. She felt safe at St. Dominic’s, although staying in the apartment in New York was an exciting adventure. “You should consider moving to New York after graduation.” It was still a year away and she had time to think about it.
“Maybe I’d be lonely here,” she said honestly.
“Not once you make friends, and you can always go home to Boston for the weekend.”
Alex had met several young men at the publishing house who had asked her out. There were boys in the internship program too, and her roommates had introduced her to their friends. She went out mostly in groups, with no official dates. The others were all looking for a summer romance, but Alex wasn’t. All she could think about were ideas for her next book. She talked to Rose about some of them, over dessert, and her agent liked them all, and thought she was heading in an interesting direction. She wanted to continue the character of the detective from her last book into the next one. She wasn’t ready to start on it yet, but she had made copious notes to show Bert when she got back to Boston. He was taking the summer off, and had called her once to say he missed her, and she told him she missed him too.
Alex was invited to New England for a weekend by some of her new friends, the Berkshires by one of her roommates, and to Greenwich, Connecticut, by a girl she met at work who went to Princeton. And she was invited by several people to go to the Hamptons, where young people she met had rented houses to share with a dozen friends, and took turns going out for weekends. She went away every week. She did no writing, just made notes for the next book.
And at the end of August, her boss was sorry to see her leave.
“You’ve been great, Alex,” she said as she hugged her. “Stay in touch. If you’re interested, I’m sure we can find you a spot for next year, after graduation,” and she would strongly recommend it. Alex had been an ideal intern. Her employer had no idea that she was a writer. “You’ll make a great assistant,” she said, and Alex thanked her. She had written to the professor who had suggested her for the internship program, and told her how much fun it had been, and how much she’d enjoyed it, and how grateful she was for the opportunity.
She was sad to see her time in New York end. She hitched a ride with Jack, a boy who was going back to BU and dated one of her roommates. They chatted all the way back. He’d been in the art department for two months, and was a fine-arts student. He wanted to paint portraits one day, but figured he’d have to get a job in advertising first to support himself. He said he had already sent his CV and portfolio to several large ad agencies in New York and Boston. He was hoping to graduate early, in January.
“What about you?” Jack asked her. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said vaguely. “I want to write.”
“Maybe you should look into advertising too. There are some great agencies in Boston. You could be a copywriter.” It was the last thing she wanted to do, and she was planning to start her next book as soon as she got back.
“I really liked my boss,” she told him, as they drove north to Boston and had plenty of time to talk. “She was pretty crazy, but nice to work for. She’s an editor of romance novels.”
“My mom and my grandmother love them.” He smiled at her. “They eat them up.”
“My dad and I used to read detective stories,” Alex said wistfully, thinking of him. She still missed him, particularly at special times.
“Have you read that new guy, Andrew Green or something? I forget what he wrote, but I hear he’s pretty good. My dad gave me a copy.”
“Alexander Green,” she corrected him. “Did you read it?” she asked, suddenly paying closer attention to him. It was a chance to ask someone her age what he liked about it or didn’t. Her very own market research, one to one.
“No, I didn’t have time all summer. They kept me pretty busy,” and he had met a girl he really liked, and spent all his nights with her. He had been dating Pascale, the French girl Alex roomed with, which was how Alex had met him, and he wanted to go to Paris to visit her over Christmas, if he could afford it. Maybe with his graduation money from his parents. Alex was disappointed he hadn’t had time to read her book so he couldn’t give her any feedback.
When they got to Boston, she directed him to St. Dominic’s, where he had promised to drop her off. He started to be impressed by the size of her house, and then realized it was a convent from the name over the door, and he looked shocked.