Karl, he corrected again.

"Besides… Karl, I don't have to make a fortune from it… not did I hope to…"

"I don't believe you're grasping my full meaning, dear," he said with a shake of his head. Then, he raised his hand, gesturing to their waiter.

"Two martinis, Henry." To her: "Look at it this way… why not a best-seller right off the bat? It could be, you know, with just a little work, and no disrespect, darling… but with a little professional know-how… I mean, first book, best seller… what follows? Movie rights, of course… and from there, fame and fortune… are you with me?"

"You lost me right after two martinis, Henry," Karen said, smiling.

Karl Fletcher laughed warmly. "It's a business, Karen," he said, leaning closer onto the table. "A great big fat money business. When and if the publisher buys your book he is only concerned with how much money he is going to make from it. He has to be. When and if the agent takes you on as a client, he is only concerned in your remunerative power… his commission is how he makes his living. Look, every day I read first novels some of them damned good, too, but I won't waste my time with them. Why not? I can't afford to waste my time for the meager return…"

Henry brought their drinks. It gave her a moment to think. He was shill talking in big circles, but slowly centering in toward his point. Karen ran her tongue over the edge of her pretty lower lip. She was convinced that she already knew what he was getting to. She lifted her glass and cut deeply into its liquid content. The question was, how badly did she want this success she had been chasing since God knows when? How bad? Badly… that was how bad. Bad enough? Yes, she thought, looking around her at this pleasing, fulfilling, immediate representation of fame and fortune… bad enough… more than anything else she could possibly think of… and then, momentarily, she thought of Jeff…