Free The Agency by Ally O'Brien

you’re holding off on a new deal for her with Guy. Is there a reason?”
    “Dorothy wants more time.”
    “Ah, of course. But I was under the impression that you and Guy had already come to terms on the shape of the deal. If Dorothy wants a more relaxed deadline, that’s perfectly fine, but we may as well close the book on your fine efforts and put pen to paper. Marty may have mentioned that this is a priority for me. It would give us such good press, coming so soon after Lowell’s unfortunate tragedy.”
    I smiled.
    Cosima smiled.
    “There’s no deal,” I said.
    Sorry, Oliver, I can’t just walk away from that kind of money.
    “No?”
    “Guy doesn’t want to talk terms until Dorothy is ready,” I said.
    “Ah.”
    “I’ll talk to Dorothy again tomorrow,” I said.
    If Cosima’s face got any tighter, I thought it would snap like a rubber band.
    “Yes, please do. You know how important this is.”
    “Absolutely.”
    Cosima turned to leave. Half her body disappeared into the shadows outside my door, as if being gobbled up by the dark side of the moon. She turned back to me and added, “Will you be at Lowell’s funeral on Wednesday?”
    “Of course.”
    “Good. We all need to pay our respects. Such a terrible thing.”
    “Yes.”
    “I wonder if they will find out what happened.”
    I looked at her. “What do you mean?”
    “Well, you know how people talk. I’ve heard rumors.”
    “Rumors?”
    “Of murder,” Cosima said.
    “Murder? That’s crazy.”
    “Yes, I’m sure it will all come to nothing. Lowell was beloved. No one had a reason to kill him.”
    I thought to myself: no one except you, Cosima.
    “Oh, Jack will be at the funeral, too,” she added.
    “Jack?” I asked, barely able to breathe.
    She smiled. “My husband.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “He told me how well you and he got on at the last Christmas party.”
    “He’s a very pleasant man,” I said.
    “Yes, he is. I thought that the four of us could go to lunch after the funeral. You, me, Jack, and Marty. Toast Lowell, and take a look forward to a new era. What do you say?”
    Forget it, I thought.
    “I’d love to,” I said.

10

    I TOOK A BUS back to my apartment around noon.
    Still no message from Darcy. Normally, that wouldn’t worry me. We make it a point never to call each other directly, because we don’t know who might happen to overhear a message or see a number on a call log. That’s why we use Emma as our go-between. Even so, I thought that he might make an exception this time, because of what I said to him last night. I was unreasonably nervous, and talking to Cosima only made it worse.
    I tried Dorothy again but didn’t reach her. I figured out one time that it took me an average of six tries to get a hold of her. If you’re thinking of ditching the modern world by turning off your answering machine and throwing away your mobile, just remember those of us out here who may want to reach you. We are likely to be annoyed.
    Emma sent me another text:
    MET NEW GIRL LAST NIGHT. WOW. IN LOVE. HOT.
    I smiled. Emma falls in and out of love every week with a new girl, but who am I to tell her to go slow? I wondered if this one looked like Sienna Miller. Emma’s girlfriends have a way of mirroring her latest celeb crush.
    I decided to go for a run. The sky was drizzling, but no more than a spitting rain, not enough to keep Londoners indoors. I took the bus up to Battersea Park and did a few laps around the Carriage Drive. I don’t run often enough, but I try to get out two or three times a week to clear my head. You would think that, being single, I have plenty of alone time, but that’s not really true. I eat most of my meals with editors, clients, reporters, producers, and everyone else who needs to sell or be sold; and my other waking minutes are normally spent on the phone and the BlackBerry. Other than in the shower and on my runs, I feel like I have invited the rest of the world to share my life.
    I try not to