The Nix(21)

Which of course he never did. That was a decade ago. This is the first conversation he’s had with his publisher in years.

“So how’s the book business?” Samuel says.

“The book business. Hah. That’s funny. I’m not really in the book business anymore. Not in the traditional sense.” He fishes a business card from his briefcase. Guy Periwinkle: Interest Maker—no logo, no contact information.

“I’m in the manufacturing business now,” Periwinkle says. “I build things.”

“But not books.”

“Books. Sure. But mostly I build interest. Attention. Allure. A book is just packaging, just a container. This is what I’ve realized. The mistake people in the book business make is they think their job is to build good containers. Saying you’re in the book business is like a winemaker saying he’s in the bottle business. What we’re actually building is interest. A book is simply one shape that interest can take when we scale and leverage it.”

Above them, the Packer Attacker video has come to the point where security guards are rushing toward Samuel’s mother, about to tackle her. Samuel turns away.

“I’m more like into multimodal cross-platform synergy,” Periwinkle says. “My company was swallowed long ago by another publisher, which was swallowed in turn by a bigger one, and so on, like those Darwin fish stickers you see on car bumpers. Now we’re owned by a multinational conglomerate with interests in trade book publishing, cable television, radio broadcasting, music recording, media distribution, film production, political consulting, image management, publicity, advertising, magazines, printing, and rights. Plus shipping, I think? Somewhere in there?”

“That sounds complicated.”

“Imagine me as the calm center around which all our media operations tornado.”

Periwinkle looks at the television above them and watches the Packer Attacker video replayed for the dozenth time. In a small window on the left side of the screen, the show’s conservative anchor is saying something, who knows what.

“Hey!” Periwinkle shouts at a barista. “Could you turn this up?”

Seconds later the television is unmuted. They hear the anchor ask whether the Packer attack is an isolated incident or a sign of things to come.

“Oh, definitely a sign of things to come,” says one of the guests. “This is what liberals do when they’re trapped in a corner. They attack.”

“It’s really not all that different from, say, Germany in the late thirties,” says another guest. “It’s like, you know, first they came for the patriots, and I did not speak out.”

“Right!” says the anchor. “If we don’t speak out, nobody’s going to be left when they come for us. We have to stop this now.”

Heads nod all around. Cut to commercial.

“Oh, man,” says Periwinkle, shaking his head and smiling. “The Packer Attacker. That’s a woman I’d like to know better. That’s a story I’d love to tell.”

Samuel sips his drink and says nothing. The tea steeped for too long and has gone a little bitter.

Periwinkle checks his watch and glances at the gate, where people have begun to hover—not quite in line but poised to dart into one, should a line form.

“How’s work?” Periwinkle says. “You still teaching?”

“For now.”

“At that…place?”

“Yes, same school.”

“What do you make, like thirty grand? Let me give you some advice. Can I give you some advice?”

“Okay.”

“Get out of the country, dude.”

“Sorry?”

“Seriously. Find yourself a nice third-world developing nation and go make a killing.”

“I could do that?”

“Yes, absolutely. My brother does that. Teaches high-school math and coaches soccer in Jakarta. Before that, Hong Kong. Before that, Abu Dhabi. Private schools. Kids are mostly the children of government and business elite. He makes two hundred grand a year plus housing plus a car plus a driver. You get a car and a chauffeur at that school of yours?”

“No.”

“I swear to god anyone with half an education who stays in America to teach is suffering some kind of psychosis. In China, Indonesia, the Philippines, the Middle East they’re desperate for people like you. You could have your pick. In America you’re underpaid and overworked and insulted by politicians and unappreciated by students. There, you’d be a goddamn hero. That’s advice, me to you.”

“Thanks.”

“You should take it too. Because I have bad news, buddy.”

“You do.”

Big sigh, big clownish frown as Periwinkle nods his head. “I’m sorry, but we’re gonna have to cancel your contract. That’s what I came here to tell you. You promised us a book.”

“And I’m working on it.”

“We paid you a fairly large advance for a book, and you have not delivered said book.”

“I hit a snag. A little writer’s block. It’s coming along.”

“We are invoking the nondelivery clause in our contract, whereby the publisher may demand reimbursement for any advance payments if the product is never provided. In other words? You’re gonna have to pay us back. I wanted to tell you in person.”