Page 98 - Just Deserts

Stiff Competition

Tina Crumpet, associate editor at LibrAries Press, regarded her
visitor with amused contempt. He was pale, slight and small-boned:
her antithesis. “So, Mr. Lemmatina, you are a literary agent. That’s
what your card says.” Her voice dripped with honeyed sarcasm; she
knew a loser when she saw one.
“That’s right, Ms. Crumpet.” The little man in the outdated ill-
fitting suit seemed unaware of her barely-disguised hostility. “Oh, I’m
not surprised you haven’t heard of me here in New York City, but
ask anyone in the business up in Calgary—they’ll tell you about me.
They’ll say that Sonny Lemmatina has a real nose for talent in the
literary field.”
She glanced at the bulky manuscript Lemmatina had placed on
the edge of her desk and was attempting, by means of small offhand
gestures, to push closer to its center.
“Canada, eh? And the author you represent: another Canadian,
another less-than-household-name down here in the lower forty-eight
states?”
He nodded energetically. “Yes, yes, of course. But you must
realize that Oliver Orpimenter is a pseudonym. He teaches classics at
a provincial university, and does not want it known that he has
written this sort of book. In fact, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist upon it
when we get down to working out a contract. Other than that,” he
hastened to add when he saw her eyes narrow, “we are completely
flexible on remuneration, terms of payment, movie rights and so on.
You can even buy the book outright: I’m authorized to do that, too.
If you like I can show you the power of attorney.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary as yet, Mr. Lemmatina. Now,
I am a very busy woman. Since you have come here from quite a
distance, I will give you precisely two minutes to give me a reason to
open this up and look at the first page.”
Tina rolled her forearm over, exposing a dainty gold wristwatch;
to Lemmatina, eye-level with the telephones on the desk, it looked
like a great white whale flopping on a green baize beach.

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