by Marian Keyes
* * *
Clearing out her desk Jojo wondered where were the cardboard boxes that always materialized when people in movies left their jobs at short notice. Not that she had much, she wasn’t a pot-plant kind of person, they were so needy…
The hallways of Lipman Haigh whispered with speculation: Jojo was emptying her desk, what was going down?
Her phone rang and absently she picked it up. Miranda England.
‘Jojo, I’ve been thinking…’
Jojo went cold.
‘In your new company you don’t have a foreign rights department, do you?’
‘Not yet. But I will.’
‘And you don’t have a media department yet?’
‘But I will.’
‘Jojo, now that I’m not writing a book a year, I need the income from my overseas sales. Germany pays me almost as much as the UK. And the movie options bring in plenty too.’
‘Miranda, who got to you? Richie Gant?’
‘Nobody did!’
‘What did he offer?’
‘Nothing!’
‘A lower commission rate? Is that it? Nine per cent? Eight? Seven?’
Miranda paused and admitted unhappily, ‘Eight. And he’s right about the media and foreign rights department.’
Manoj was dancing in front of her, holding up a page which said, ‘Gemma Hogan holding. Urgent!’
‘Miranda, I’ll offer you seven per cent and I’ll have media and foreign rights departments up and running in three months.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
Gemma
I was driving back from a meeting when my mobile rang. I answered and a man’s voice said, ‘Speak to Gemma Hogan?’
‘Speaking.’
‘Richie Gant here, of Lipman Haigh literary agents.’
Jojo’s company. ‘Hello.’
‘Gemma, I love your book.’
‘Thank you.’ Why was he ringing me?
‘You’ve probably not heard but your agent Jojo Harvey has decided to leave Lipman Haigh and go it alone.’
‘I’ve heard.’
‘Oh. Well, yeah. Thing is Jojo is a great agent but to go it alone? Us partners here are worried about her clients.’
‘Really?’
‘On her own she’ll have no foreign rights department. No media department. I reckon Chasing Rainbows would make a great little movie but no way will Jojo be able to do this for you in her new set-up.’
‘Yes, but…’
‘I’m saying, why not stay with Lipman Haigh? There are several excellent agents here and I myself would be happy to represent you. And I’m one of the partners.’
I told him I’d think about it and right away I rang Jojo. She was on the phone so I told her assistant it was urgent. She rang back immediately.
‘Jojo, someone called Richie Gant has just rung me, saying you’ve no foreign rights and he wants to represent me. What’s going on?’
‘You as well? I’ve barely handed in my notice and already he’s trying to steal all my clients.’ Her voice went a little shrill. ‘It’s like Jerry fucking Maguire round here today.’
In her previous call she’d made founding a new agency sound like a great thing, but now I heard her panic. For some reason she had to leave and she was scrabbling around for clients, in order to help her set up.
In one shocking moment it all became clear to me and I couldn’t believe the opportunity that had just landed in my lap: Jojo needed clients – what if I said I’d only go with her, if she didn’t take Lily? I was worth a lot more to Jojo than Lily was: Lily’s writing career was in freefall, whereas mine was only beginning.
Without an agent, Lily’s career would be toast; I could make it happen. And Anton needed to option my book – how much would he be prepared to sacrifice in order to save his career? Anton was fiercely ambitious, at least he had been three and a half years ago.
In my wildest fantasies about getting revenge on Lily, I hadn’t come up with anything like this – this was bigger, better and above all, real.
A fresh wave swept over me. Where did it all go so right? Suddenly and astonishingly, I’d just been handed the chance to flip my life over, to wipe out years of humiliation, so that I was the one on top. I saw the power I had and it made me dizzy. I wondered if Lily saw it too.
I had to go to London. It was time to meet Anton.
Lily
Gemma was out to get me. Until this point I will admit to being paranoid with regard to her, my guilt rendered me so. But I was not imagining this.
Anton was pushing ahead with his great plan to option her book. They had not yet forged personal contact, but that was only a matter of time, and then everything would end. However, she was not content merely with that, as I discovered on Friday afternoon when Miranda England rang.
‘Lily,’ she said. ‘I’ve been thinking about this Jojo situation. Aren’t you worried about her not having a foreign rights or a media department? That slimy Gant bloke just called –’
‘What Jojo situation?’
Miranda squawked. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t heard? Jojo is leaving! Setting up on her own!’
I had heard no such thing.
‘She’s contacting all her authors, to take them with her.’
Did this mean that she did not want to take me? Panic tightened my chest like a vice.
‘Who else is going?’ I asked.
‘Eamonn Farrell, Marjorie Franks, that weirdo Nathan Frey…’ So many authors had been contacted, but not me. I was not stupid. I knew this meant something. Then Miranda said the words I had been waiting for. ‘… that new author, Gemma Hogan.’
Sweat erupted onto my forehead. Now I knew exactly why Jojo had not phoned me. Manifestly, Gemma had said that she would not go with her if Jojo kept me on as a client. If I did not have an agent, the tiny little ember that remained of my writing career would be extinguished. No other agent would take me on; without Jojo I was finished.
Gemma
I caught the 6.35 a.m. from Dublin and went straight from Heathrow into Lipman Haigh. I wore my new black suit. By Donna Karan. No, Prada. Either way it made me look tiny-waisted and chic. I’d got it in the sales for an astonishingly reasonable sum.
‘Jojo – you and your new company? I’m on board.’
‘Great, you won’t regret it!’
But before I grasped her outstretched hand and sealed the deal, I said, ‘There’s just one thing.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Lily Wright.’
‘Lily Wright?’
‘I don’t want you to bring her with us.’
Jojo looked concerned. ‘Lily Wright couldn’t get arrested right now. If I leave her at Lipman Haigh it’s unlikely anyone else would want to represent her. It would mean an end to her publishing career.’
I shrugged. ‘Those are my terms.’
Jojo considered me for a while. I saw respect in her eyes. Slowly she nodded. ‘OK. No Lily.’
‘Great.’ I pumped her hand. ‘Pleasure doing business with you.’
In the lift I clenched my fists. Success was within my grasp. Soon vengeance would be mine. Mine, I tell you! Mine! Mine!
Eye-Kon’s office was only three streets away but en route I passed a shoe shop and bought two pairs of boots in the sale so by the time I arrived for my appointment with Anton I was twenty minutes late. Who cared? I swung in, brazenly displaying my shopping bags.
Meeting Anton for the first time in three and a half years was weird. He looked exactly the same: same dancing eyes, same through-a-hedge-backwards chic. And same charisma, of course – lots of it. Some things never change.
‘How’s it going, you mad woman?’ He grinned. ‘Come in, sit down. Drink? Take a seat. You’re looking fantastic.’
The last time I’d seen him, I’d been sick with love for him. The Begging Incident1 came briefly to mind and I magicked it away. Back then Anton had had all the power. But not now. Due to some mad quirk of fate, due to life being, for once
, fair, I held his future in my hands.
He smiled at me, a wide, winning smile. ‘Sell us your book, Gemma. Go on, it’s great. We’ll make an excellent movie out of it. I promise we won’t let you down.’
‘Is that so?’ I asked coolly. ‘Anton, I’ve done a little research. Eye-Kon is screwed. You really need this book.’
That knocked some of the skittishness out of him. ‘Maybe.’
‘No maybe about it. And the good news is, Anton, you can have it. Without it costing you a penny.’
‘I can?’
‘Under certain conditions.’
‘And they are?’
I waited a moment, building dramatic tension. ‘How’s Lily?’ I asked. ‘How are you two getting on?’
To my surprise – I hadn’t expected him to admit it so quickly, things must be AWFUL – he hung his head.
‘Not great.’
‘Not great? Good. That’ll make leaving her easier for you.’
I expected a flurry of what-are-you-talking-abouts and don’t-be-mads. But he just nodded and said quietly, ‘OK.’
‘OK?’ I queried. ‘OK? That simple? You can’t love her very much if you’re prepared to put your career before her.’
‘I don’t. I don’t love her at all. I never did. It was all a mistake. I was lonely when I first came to London and I mistook friendship for love. Then she got pregnant and how could I leave? But then I read your book and it’s so you. It reminded me of what a great girl you are and the laughs we used to have. Seeing you here today, in your lovely Prada suit, I’ve no doubt in my mind that it was you I loved all along.’ He stood by the window and stared out at the porridge-coloured London sky. ‘I’ve known for a long time that being with Lily was a mistake. Ever since she got the Burt Reynolds-style hair-weave to cover her bald patch.’ He sighed heavily. ‘I should have left then, but the follicles became infected and she had to go on a course of antibiotics which upset her stomach. It would have been criminal to walk out…’
I paused. No, it was no good. The fantasy wasn’t working any more. There was no way I’d be able to go to London and proposition Jojo and Anton, in an attempt to destroy Lily. I was almost disappointed with myself – some Avenger I made. It was one thing to want to drive over to Colette’s work and make fun of her in the company car park after Dad had left her. But this kind of revenge-style fantasy – would any real person be able to do it?
Maybe if you were really, really peculiar you could. Maybe if you lived your life like it was a Dynasty script. But vengeance issues or no vengeance issues, I wasn’t that kind of person. Had I ever been? Or had I simply forgiven Lily?
Even if I was able to force myself to negotiate with Jojo or Anton, they’d either laugh or tell me to fuck off.
And what kind of pitiful creature would be happy to bag a bloke by kick-starting his career? It would be like buying someone.
Jojo was still on the other end of my mobile, waiting for my answer.
I said, ‘Jojo, don’t worry, I’m sticking with you. There’s just one thing, seeing as you mentioned Jerry Maguire…’
I turned on my car radio, looking for rap. Eminem, that would do. I turned it up deafeningly loud and yelled, ‘Jojo, for the laugh, would you shout, “Show me the money.”’
She hesitated, clearly in no mood, ‘Aw, what the hell. SHOW ME THE MONEY.’
‘Congratulations,’ I said, giving my ear a rub. ‘You’re still my agent.’
Jojo
Jim Sweetman’s office
‘Jim,’ Jojo asked. ‘Your new relationship. Is it serious?’
He looked surprised, suspicious even. ‘Yes, yes, I suppose it is.’
‘No chance you might change your mind about me?’
Carefully he said, ‘I don’t want to give offence…’
‘I’ll take that as a no?’
‘Er, yes.’
‘Excellent!’
‘Why?’
‘I’d like to offer you a job.’
‘Wha-at?’
‘Yeah, as my media person, and I don’t want any pesky crush of yours ruining things. Now what do you think the chances are of getting Olga to come and run our foreign rights department?’
‘Jojo, I – look! No –’
‘Think about it,’ she said. ‘Equal shares. We’ll make a ton.’
She got up to leave and he yelled after her, ‘Jojo, I want to talk to you about something else.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know if you’re still interested, but Gemma Hogan’s book? Chasing Rainbows? Eye-Kon were pulling a deal together with the BBC and Chloe Drew?’
‘Sure I’m interested. Gemma’s still my author.’
‘Heard at lunch that Chloe’s had a major coke and alcohol meltdown and gone into rehab. I’ve made a few calls to confirm.’
‘Say it ain’t so.’
‘Sorry, Jojo.’
‘The deal is off?’
‘The deal is so off. Chloe was the clincher, without her the BBC won’t make with the readies. But no one wants to work with a drunk, even an ex-drunk. The insurers won’t touch her.’
Lily
The funny thing was that less than an hour after Miranda England rang, Jojo called, explained that she was setting up on her own and asked me to stay as her client. When I took my courage in my hands and asked why she had not called me before now she explained that her other authors were all mid-contract. ‘I needed to know if they were coming, so I could do the necessary untangling.’
I, by contrast, was wonderfully simple; I had no contract for Jojo to worry about. ‘But if you decide to write another book,’ she said, ‘you bring it to me and let’s see what we can do.’
Later that same day Anton found out that Chloe Drew had had some sort of breakdown – the rumours said it was alcohol-related. She had been pivotal to Chasing Rainbows’, without her the BBC were not interested and the deal was not going to happen.
I should have been happy. Anton and I were safe now, were we not?
Unfortunately, no: Anton’s brush with Gemma, or at least her book, had revealed the full extent of the rot in Anton’s and my relationship.
And the fact that, once again, another of Anton’s business ventures had collapsed, convinced me that my life with him would always be a financial roller coaster. I could not live that way. I owed it to Ema to seek stability.
That evening, I went to see Irina in her beautiful new apartment. At first we talked make-up and skin-care but in a conversational hiatus I threw out an experimental line: ‘Anton and I are going to split up.’
Most people would yelp, ‘What? You and Anton? You’re bonkers about each other! You’re just going through a bad patch!’
But Irina simply exhaled a thoughtful plume of smoke and shrugged, ‘Thet is the nature of love.’
Her phenomenal pessimism led by example and encouraged my own pessimism to walk tall through every aspect of my life. She provided precisely the right environment to enable me to see the full extent of the wreckage. There was no chance that any ersatz optimism might pop up cheerily and scoot my hopelessness back into hiding – not in Irina’s home. She would not stand for it. I heard myself say, ‘I have to find somewhere for Ema and me to live.’
‘I hev two spare bedrooms. You can stay vit me. Vassily is not in London werry often. Thanks Gud. All he wants to do is make the sex.’ She seemed to hear herself and slightly changed tack. ‘But when you meet him you will like.’
It was a beautiful apartment and I was tempted. But my imagination conjured up images of Ema and me caught in some Russian Mafia turf-war, of both of us tied to kitchen chairs with duct tape as big-moustachioed, stone-washed-leather-jacket-wearing men called Leonid and Boris, threatened us with knives to encourage us to reveal the whereabouts of the man/money/briefcase.
She read my mind. ‘Vassily is legit.’
‘Is he?’ I was sure she had implied his activities were illegal.
‘He is criminal.’ She sounded bored. ‘Of cours
e he is criminal. But not Mafia.’
Well, that was all right then!
And what were my other options? Dettol Hall? Far more likely to have a negative impact on Ema than being duct-taped to a kitchen chair. Even a DSS hotel would be better than Dettol Hall.
So, from the moment Irina made her offer, the die was cast.
Jojo
On Friday evening, Manoj helped Jojo carry her cardboard boxes down to the taxi.
‘I can’t believe you’re leaving,’ he quavered.
‘Don’t be such a girl,’ she said. ‘I’ll send for you. Soon as I’m up and running.’
The high of her dramatic resignation was wearing off. It had all happened so quickly – on Tuesday she had started calling her authors to see if a solo career was viable. It was now only Friday.
All week she had surfed on the idea of bucking the system. She would be the one who would transcend the sexist pecking order. It had fired her up, made her believe what she was doing was right. But when she looked at Manoj’s wobbling chin, she lapsed back into the dream state that had been such a feature of this week and wondered, What have I done?
She had walked out of Lipman Haigh and she would not be going back. The realization was like a ten-pound sack of sand falling on her from a height.
No going back. To her well-paid position as partner. Or to Mark.
And she was the one who had made it happen.
The cab ride home was like a bad dream. What was she doing – had already done – to herself?
Her mobile rang. She checked caller display – Mark – and let it roll over to message service. Once in her flat, she dumped the cardboard boxes and noticed that her machine was flashing with messages. Already?
The first was from Jim Sweetman. ‘Jojo, I’m flattered by your offer, but I’m staying with Lipman Haigh.’ Damn, she thought. Then – So what? She’d get another media person, and Olga was still on board. OK, Olga had not actually said yes when Jojo had made her pitch. She had simply sat wearing an expression of utter astonishment. But she had not said no and right now Jojo decided that that was as good as a yes.
