1.
Bertelsmann Building, Times Square
New York City
May 2014
I don’t just close the door to my agent’s swank, fourteenth-floor office after entering into it for our scheduled 10 a.m. meeting. I lock it. I also don’t bother with politely taking a chair in front of a glass desk that’s so big and wide, a pilot flying over it might confuse it for a small lake if only a roof weren’t covering this steel and concrete skyscraper.
Instead I go around the desk, set my callused hands on the narrow shoulders of Leslie Singer, my brown-eyed, long and dark-haired agent of nearly five years, and spin her around so that she faces me. Bending down, I plant a kiss on her thick, red lips.
Coming up for air, I look into her eyes and smile.
“Yes, you may kiss me,” she says, her eyes wide and sparkling.
