He scrubs his face. ‘Lucy’s agent reached out and said she wanted to move on and would we be interested in reading her next novel. We were. There was a bidding war for it, and we came out trumps. She became one of my authors.’
‘At whose request?’ Roxy asks quick as a flash.
He shrugs. ‘It was an organic thing. I was most senior and Lucy’s sales speak for themselves.’
‘Lucy specifically asked foryou, didn’t she?’ Roxy probes, pulling her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose.
‘Her agent did, yeah. We’ve worked together for years. Lucy came to the office to sign the contract; they put on a party so we could take photos and promote our new acquisition. A year later we hosted a book launch but that was handled by the marketing team. Anything else?’
I pipe up, ‘Why were you reading one of her backlist books?’ Is he obsessed with her saucy writing? For a killer thriller writer she sure likes writing about sex.
‘Because she gifted it to me before I left.’
I pretend to be completely uninterested. I am uninterested.
Roxy taps the pen on her chin and reads her notebook. ‘Look, this might come across as too personal but it’s better if we know ahead of time so we can do our best to protect you. Lucy has a reputation for seducing every man who locks eyes with her. She’s known to be a love ’em and leave ’em type. This is a safe circle, a vault. Nothing you say leaves this table.DidLucy proposition you?’
He laughs. ‘She flirted with me, but that’s it. But like I told Evie, that’s kind of her author persona. It comes across more as an act, like she’s on show and selling her brand if that makes sense? Our business relationship always remained professional. Now, has the inquisition finished? Can we discuss the actual launch party and taste the wine? I’m personally going to need a bucket rather than a glass.’ He shakes his T-shirt collar as if he’s sweating under the spotlight.
Roxy stares at him long and hard as though she’s deciding whether she can trust him or not. ‘I suppose we can leave it there. But let the record show we brought this to your attention and we’ll be right there with you on the night if you need us to step in.’
‘Um. Thanks?’
I bite down on a smile. Poor Georgios, he’s a good sport.
We spent the next few hours discussing marketing and promotion, and I’m blown away by how far and wide Roxy has managed to spread the word. Having a big name like Lucy Strike has proved invaluable. The wine goes down too well and soon we’re laughing and joking and have made a deal with the winemaker to stock their wines in Epeolatry.
Chapter 20
By Wednesday I’m in panic mode about how quickly the launch is creeping up when Georgios arrives at Bibliotherapy to go over our guest list. Worryingly, we haven’t had many confirm. ‘Is it an island thing?’ I ask. ‘People are in holiday mode and they don’t want to commit in case a better offer comes along?’ Truthfully, I’d expected RSVPs to pile up because we landed Lucy Strike as a guest speaker, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.
He rubs at the stubble on his chin. Over the last few days, he hasn’t shaved and it gives him a less manicured air, more beach bum than cover model and it suits him. ‘Could be that.’
‘Or maybe we’re being too elusive with our invite?’ I ask.
I reread the text:
You’re cordially invited to the grand launch of Epeolatry. A hidden library bar high up on the Santorini cliffs. It’s a place to read first editions and second-hand treasures sourced over a lifetime from around the globe. Sip a literary cocktail while being lulled by soft smooth jazz. Become a member of this exclusive club and use the facilities to read, to ponder, or even to pursue your own literary ambitions. Our guest on the night is bestselling, award-winning author Lucy Strike, who’ll spend time with our members and share her publishing story – how she went from living paycheque to paycheque to become the global phenomenon she is today, selling over five million copies of her books, which have been translated into twenty languages and optioned for film and TV.
Epeolatry is more than a bar, it’s a lifestyle. A sanctuary for bibliophiles. A night-time library for those who worship words.
‘Too vague?’ I ask. ‘We don’t mention pricing, or what exactly they get for their membership investment.’
‘I wouldn’t panic. Vague is good,’ Georgios says. ‘I’ve contacted family and friends who live locally and literary types who are just a short flight away. We’ll get an influx at the end, don’t worry.’
But I’m top of the class at worrying! I wring my hands. ‘If it flops it will besoembarrassing, especially now that Lucy has confirmed. Can you imagine her sashaying into an empty room?’ This is why I prefer the comfort of the written word to social events. There’s always so much angst involved. Added to that is the fear that this won’t save Gran and it’ll all have been for nothing, after she trusted me to make this a success.
He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. ‘It’s going to be OK, Evie. Lucy’s a huge drawcard. Roxy has done wonders in getting the event publicised. Even my sister called me from New York and asked if I was going and my sibling is one of those busy important types who doesn’t call if she can email.’
‘I like her already.’
He grins. ‘We might not have confirmed numbers yet, but I bet they’ll be queuing to get in. How about we run geo-targeted ads on social media and push the fact that RSVP is required to avoid missing out.’
‘Good idea. We can also offer a one-time discount to those who join as library members before the event.’
‘Now you’re talking.’ Georgios is always so calm and moderated and has the ability to stop me spiralling into a panic when I’m living largely outside of my comfort zone.
‘Also, Gran’s hired a local jazz quartet who are well known around these parts so we can share that news across socials too.’
