Unconscionable, A Rich Coleman Novel Vol 3 Read online

  Chapter 4

  The Manuscript

  A week after graduation the bar review course began. Ryan left his office early and picked up Amanda on his way to the Crown Plaza Suites at Park Central where the course was being held. A rare cold front for this time of year had passed through Dallas, and there was a cool breeze from the north. Amanda didn’t know what was going on, but Ryan seemed oddly cheerful in light of the fact that he was facing three grueling hours of bar review. She had asked him about it, but he had failed to provide any explanation other than it was a beautiful day.

  The bar review course was as intense and unpleasant as they had anticipated, but somehow they got through it. Ryan suggested they have dinner at the hotel’s Café Biarritz, because he was famished. Amanda agreed so they took their study materials out to the car and then returned to the restaurant. It was a Monday night so it wasn’t crowded. The waiter brought them some bread and Ryan ordered a bottle of wine.

  “So, that was a lot of fun,” Amanda said, rolling her eyes.

  “Actually, it was better than class. At least everything they went over was straightforward and didn’t require any interpretation. I hate it when a professor throws three or four different explanations of the same issue and you have to figure out which one is correct.”

  “None of them are correct. That’s the problem,” Amanda complained. “The courts often disagree on the same issues.”

  “So, what did you do today?” Ryan asked.

  “Oh. I checked a book out of the library called Literary Marketplace. It lists all the literary agencies in the country. I’m researching which ones I want to approach for a job.”

  “Are there a lot of them?”

  “Hundreds, but only about ten percent of them would be worth working for.”

  “So, are you going to call them or write letters?”

  “Letters at first and then follow up with a phone call. I could go to work for the agency I interned with last year here in Dallas but they are rather small.”

  “I didn’t know you interned with an agency last year. What agency was it?”

  “The Colson Agency. Brenda Colson is a family friend. She said to come see her after I graduated, but she only has a few major authors. Most of her clients are midlist. I wouldn’t make a lot of money there.”

  “What does a literary agent get paid, anyway?” Ryan asked.

  “Usually fifteen percent of what the author gets.”

  “How much does an author get?”

  “An author will get a royalty anywhere from ten to twenty percent of net revenue.”

  “So, if the author gets fifteen percent, you get fifteen percent of his fifteen percent, right?”

  Amanda nodded. “It’s not much so you don’t want to represent too many midlist authors. The real money comes from movie deals and other subsidiary rights.”

  “It doesn’t sound all that lucrative to me,” Ryan said.

  “If you represent a prime client he or she might get a million-dollar advance, so you’d get $150,000.”

  “Right, but how many contracts like that are you likely to place each year?”

  “Probably not that many.”

  “I’ll stick to practicing law, I think.”

  The waiter brought them their wine and took their orders. Ryan ordered the Tuscany steak and Amanda got seafood pasta.

  “So, most of the agencies are in New York, right?” Ryan asked.

  Amanda sighed deeply. “Yes. I’m afraid so.”

  “What if I don’t want you to go to New York?”

  Amanda gave Ryan a hard look. “Are you telling me not to go?”

  Ryan shrugged. “Yes. Don’t go. Go to work for your friend. If you don’t make as much money it won’t matter. Between the two of us we’ll have plenty of money.”

  “So, what are you saying?”

  “Move in with me. We’ll pool our resources and you won’t have to be worried about money while you’re looking for a potential best-selling author to represent.”

  “So, what if I want more?” Amanda said cautiously.

  Ryan shrugged. “More what? More money?”

  “No. More than just a roommate.”

  “Oh. Well, we’ll probably end up getting married eventually. I can’t imagine myself with anyone else but you. But the time isn’t quite right. We need to wait a couple of years and get established in our professions.”

  “Why?” Amanda asked. “If we’re meant to be together why not get married now?”

  “A wedding would be too much pressure on us right now. We should do it when our lives are more stable and we know what we want.”

  Ryan’s words didn’t sting her as much as they should have. Most men had difficulty with commitment while women usually knew what they wanted. But she wasn’t sure about Ryan, either. She liked him a lot, but did she love him? She wasn’t sure. Her career was important to her, and most literary agents worked in New York.

  Amanda sighed. “You’re probably right. No need to rush things. We have plenty of time.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to bail on you down the road. I love you,” Ryan said earnestly.

  “You do?”

  Ryan laughed. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Not always.”

  “Well, I do love you and that’s not going to change.”

  Amanda struggled not to pledge her love to Ryan. It would have been the natural thing to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Luckily, Ryan hadn’t noticed or didn’t want to pressure her into saying it. Did that mean she didn’t love him? She didn’t know what it meant, only that she was glad she hadn’t said it. But was she willing to postpone her career for a while and move in with Ryan? She guessed she owed him that much. She’d give it a year, she decided, to discover if what she felt for Ryan was love or infatuation. Being in New York wasn’t absolutely necessary. At least in the beginning. She was young and didn’t want to make any mistakes, so she’d be patient. Life was too short to be consumed with regrets.

  “Okay. If you’re sure you want to support me while I build up my client list.”

  Ryan nodded. “Hey. My father has a manuscript. It’s a true crime. The story of how he met my mother and when she was tried for murder.”

  Amanda perked up. “Seriously, he wrote a book about it?”

  “Yeah. I haven’t read it. My mother won’t let me. I don’t know why. It’s been over twenty-five years since it all happened. My mother was found not guilty by reason of temporary insanity although she claims she was innocent.”

  “Your mother temporarily insane? I seriously doubt it.”

  “I know. It’s a stretch but I guess she put on quite a performance. Some psychiatrist prepped her. My grandmother even testified.”

  “Oh, I’d love to read it. Do you think she’d let me?”

  “Not likely, but I know where it is—up in the attic in her cedar chest. You could borrow it and I doubt anybody would notice it was missing.”

  Amanda’s eyes lit up. “Let’s go get it.”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes. Now that you’ve told me about it I won’t be able to sleep until I read it.”

  Ryan laughed and then became silent while he thought about it. “We’ll need an excuse to go up in the attic. You’d like to see my college yearbooks, wouldn’t you?”

  “Absolutely. Let’s go.”

  “Okay. That will be our cover story if my mom asks.”

  “Sure.”

  Amanda was ecstatic about the manuscript. Ryan had told her the story earlier and it had been fascinating. She prayed Rich was a good writer. Even if it needed work she could help him rewrite it and then it could be submitted to the editors that Brenda knew. True crime was very popular, and if the book did well she could pitch it to Hollywood for a movie. Amanda could barely contain her excitement as they pulled up in front of Ryan’s parents’ home, got out of the car, and went inside.

  “Hello!” Ryan said as they walked in the door.r />
  Erica came in from the kitchen and smiled. “Hey. Come in. I’m so glad you stopped by. I have a peach pie in the oven.”

  Ryan grinned. “Good timing?”

  “So, how was the bar review class, Amanda?” Erica asked.

  “Scary. They covered so much material I could hardly keep up.”

  Erica smiled sympathetically. “So, did you two come to visit or do you have something on your mind?”

  “Amanda is moving in with me,” Ryan announced.

  Erica raised her eyebrows. “Wow. That’s wonderful.”

  Amanda shrugged. “He’s too cheap to marry me.”

  “No,” Ryan said, sounding hurt. “That’s not true. We’ll get married down the road. It’s just premature right now.”

  A bell rang in the kitchen.

  “Oh, there’s my pie,” Erica said.

  “We’re going up into the attic,” Ryan advised. “Amanda wants to look at my college yearbooks.”

  Erica nodded. “Okay, I’ll have your pie ready when you finish.”

  Amanda gave Ryan a guilty look. He motioned for her to follow him. They climbed up the stairway, went down a short hallway, and stopped. Ryan reached up, pulled down a folding staircase, and began climbing up. Amanda followed him. The 14' x 18' attic was cluttered with dusty boxes, old furniture, and rolls of carpeting. Ryan pointed to a cedar chest at one end.

  “There it is.”

  Ryan pushed away a cobweb and walked quickly to the box with Amanda on his heels. He opened it and breathed in the strong cedar scent. Inside were a number of quilts, some baby clothes, and what appeared to be a box of white typing paper. Ryan picked up the box and handed it to Amanda. “Here you go. Knock yourself out.”

  Amanda took the box reverently and opened it. Inside were 220 single-spaced, typed pages of The Pact by Richard Coleman. She closed the box and smiled up at Ryan gleefully.

  “This is so exciting. I can’t wait to start reading it.”

  “Take it out to the car while I keep my mother busy.”

  Amanda nodded and they got up to leave. “What about the yearbooks?”

  “Right,” Ryan said, looking around the room. He spotted a bookcase, went over to it, and took out two yearbooks. While Ryan was doing that Amanda went to close the cedar chest and noticed an envelope. She picked it up and read a note on the front of it: Revisions to The Pact by Richard Coleman. Figuring it was changes Rich wanted to make in the manuscript if it were retyped, she slipped the envelope into the box.

  As Ryan had suggested, Amanda took the manuscript and put it their car and then came back inside. When she walked into the kitchen Erica was just setting two pieces of peach pie on the kitchen table.

  “You want coffee or a soft drink?” Erica asked.

  “Coffee,” Amanda replied.

  “Me, too,” Ryan agreed.

  “Who were you looking up in the yearbook?” Erica asked.

  “Ah. Nobody in particular. She just wanted to read what people wrote about me.”

  Erica laughed. “Yeah. There were a few gems in there, if I remember correctly.”

  “Where’s Dad?” Ryan asked.

  “He went to a Rangers game with Joe. He won’t be back until after eleven.”

  They talked while they ate their pie, but Ryan could tell Amanda was anxious to leave so she could start reading the manuscript. Just as soon as they’d finished eating he stood up.

  “Well, thanks for the pie, Mom. We’ve got to hit the road. We need to get a couple of hours of studying in before we go to bed.”

  Erica got up and started cleaning off the table. “Well, come by anytime. It was nice to see both of you. Don’t study too hard. You need your sleep.”

  Ryan leaned over and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. She smiled and gave him a hug. Twenty minutes later Ryan dropped Amanda off at her apartment.

  “You want me to come in?” Ryan asked.

  “No. I won’t be good company. I plan to read a good chunk of the manuscript tonight.”

  “Why? What’s the rush?”

  “I’m excited. If it’s good maybe your dad can be my first client.”

  Ryan sighed. “Well, good luck talking him into publishing it.”

  “If I negotiate a big advance, how can he refuse?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just saying. Don’t get your hopes up.”

  Amanda kissed Ryan good night and then went inside. She put the manuscript on the coffee table in front of her sofa and opened the box. After lifting out a handful of pages she began reading. Several pages into the manuscript she was hooked and didn’t stop reading until she was finished at 4:03 a.m. She stood up and stretched, knocking the box off the sofa. The envelope with the revisions fell to the floor, and when she shuffled her feet to bend down and pick up the pages she accidentally kicked the envelope under the sofa and out of sight. Bending down awkwardly, she retrieved the box and carefully placed the manuscript back in it.

  She yawned and looked at her watch. With only a few hours of sleep she didn’t know how she’d make it through the next day, but she didn’t care. She was sure The Pact would be a best seller and now all she had to do was convince Rich Coleman to let her represent him. She felt confident that with Ryan’s help he wouldn’t refuse. But why hasn’t he already published it? It doesn’t make any sense. He has to let me find a publisher. He just has to. I won’t take no for an answer.