Snake Eater by William G. Tapply Read Free Book Online Page B

to some other people. But he loves it.”
    “Yes. Fine.”
    “His name is Al Coleman. The Coleman Agency in New York.”
    “Okay.”
    “Listen,” I said. “Do you understand?”
    Aye.
    “It means you’ve got a helluva chance of getting it published.”
    “I understand that.”
    “You don’t exactly sound elated.”
    “It’s what I expected, Brady.”
    I paused for a moment. “Can you talk?”
    “Not really.”
    “You’ve got a gang in the shop?”
    “Aye.”
    “And you don’t want them to know about the book, right?”
    “Right.”
    “Well, that’s a damn shame, because your most appropriate reaction right now should be to jump up onto your woodstove and dance a jig.”
    “Hold on, will you?” he said. Then I heard him say, “Hang this up when I tell you, Vinnie.”
    A minute later I heard a click, and Daniel said, “Okay, Vinnie. Hang it up.” Then he said, “Brady, you there?”
    “I’m here.”
    “I’m in the office now. Noisy out there.”
    “And you didn’t want to be overheard.”
    “Aye. I want to tell you something.”
    “Go ahead.”
    “I don’t want to dance a jig, lad. I don’t want to celebrate. This book is not an ego thing. It’s just a story that I wanted to tell. Do you get it?”
    “Shit, Daniel, most people—”
    “Most people who write books want to be writers, see their name on the jacket of a book, be on television.”
    I found myself nodding. “I hear you.”
    “Not me.”
    “Okay.”
    “You understand?”
    “Yes, Daniel.”
    “Well, fine.”
    “What about meeting with Al Coleman?”
    “No.”
    “But if he’s going to represent you—”
    “He’ll do it through you. And I don’t want you to tell him who I am.”
    “Right.”
    “Or the publisher, or the editor, or anybody else.”
    “Okay.”
    “That’s your job, Brady. To make sure nobody knows.”
    “That’s what I’ll tell Al, then.”
    After I hung up with Daniel, I called Coleman back. “He won’t meet with you,” I said.
    “Not good,” he said.
    “He’s adamant.”
    “I’ll have to live with it, then.”
    “Something else you should know, Al.”
    “Go ahead.”
    “I doubt if this guy intends to write another book. I mean, it’s not that he burns to be a writer. I suspect he’s got this one story in him, and now he’s told it.”
    “You trying to discourage me?”
    “No. Just being straight with you.”
    “Normally,” he said, “that would be important information. In this case, I don’t care.”
    “It’s that good, huh?”
    “I told you. This story’s dynamite.”
    Julie buzzed me in my office after lunch on a Tuesday a couple of weeks later. “It’s the Coleman Literary Agency,” she said.
    “Hot-damn,” I replied. “I got it.”
    I pressed the blinking button on my phone console and said, “Al?”
    “This is Bonnie,” came the voice in the phone. “Please hold for Mr. Coleman.”
    “Hey, Bonnie?” I said quickly.
    “Yes?”
    “I remember you.”
    “I remember you, too, Mr. Coyne.”
    “You and Al used to come to our place. I should’ve made the connection before.”
    “It was a long time ago.”
    “I guess I just didn’t expect that you and Al Coleman…”
    “Would end up married.”
    “Well, yes.”
    “Because I’m taller than him.”
    “Well—”
    “And he’s not as handsome as, for example, you.”
    “I didn’t—”
    “Al Coleman, Mr. Coyne, was a terrific lover.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah. Still is. Here. I’ll put him on.”
    I heard a click, then, “Brady?”
    “Hi, Al.”
    “Brady, I’m sending back the manuscript.”
    “Huh?”
    “I’ve decided not to handle it.”
    “But I thought—”
    “Dynamite. I know. I said that. I thought it was a fucking novel.” He paused. “Listen, Brady. I shouldn’t’ve even called you. I should just send it back with the standard rejection form. But—listen. How well do you know this guy?”
    “Daniel?”
    “Yes. Is he really a friend of yours?”
    “Well, yes. He’s a