BESTSELLERS & BEST FRIENDS
My book publishing blog, with murder mysteries woven through it.
If this is your first visit, be sure to start with “1. Let’s do it!”
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I grabbed two coffees at the fancy Starbucks in the Meatpacking District and met Teena at one of the nearby umbrella tables.
I dove right into why I wanted to meet.
Teena confirmed that she ships Allan Jatos’s author copies to the same address in Tarrytown that is owned by the dead Lajos Antal and where I saw the hot couple.
Teena said, “Cool, weird, wow.” Yep, Teena did a lot of weed when we first met in our 20s and she hasn’t, well, fully left all that behind.
She confirmed that’s she never seen Jatos in person. Only the few photos of him which his editor, Larry, handed over to her for use on Jatos’ books.
I pulled out my phone and showed her the photos I’d found of Katie Jatos. “Yep that’s Katie,” said Teena, “she’s been in the office and at a couple of events that —”
I interrupted, “She’s the hot jogger I told you about!”
“Mrs. Jatos? Katie? Allan’s wife? Is the hot jogger?” Teena was trying to process it all.
“Yes! She’s the hot jogger in Tarrytown! Outside of the house to which you send Jatos’ books. But the guy she’s clearing fucking around with at that house is NOT Mr. Jatos!”
Teena looked back to the photos on my phone. She swiped, then swiped again, “Oh, there’s Larry,” she pointed to a man next to Katie Jatos at a PEN event, ”her editor.”
I recognized Larry. From industry events.
She swiped back to the photos of Katie Jatos. “That’s weird. Wow…and,” she paused, giving her next word thoughtful consideration, “funky.” No wonder Teena did such a good job on my Quotes to Smoke (yesterday’s post) project.
Teena looked up at me, “Tell me about the fancy lover boy.”
I mentioned the green sport coat, the good looks, the sockless ankles, the fancy shoes—
“Hold on!” Teena grabbed my phone. She quickly typed, swiped the screen a few times, and handed the phone back to me.
Holy smokes. “That’s him!” I yelled, “That’s the guy! Who is he?”
“Aaron Green, Larry Campbell’s husband.”
“Larry’s husband?! As in Larry, Jatos’ editor? The gay editor’s gay husband is his author’s wife’s hot lover?” (My brain could hardly spit out such a weird sentence.) “What the hell?” And now I recognized him. He and Larry were at the table next to mine at the National Book Awards. If tuxedos came in bright green or pink I may have more quickly placed him.
Teena was as confused as me. Her brain couldn’t catch up to the gay-editor’s-gay-husband-is-his-top-author’s-wife’s-hot-lover thing. I got that. I needed a drink or smoke to calm me. Even this early in the morning.
Teena reached into her pocket and pulled out a joint. “Wanna join me?”
I passed. Teena lit the joint and did her thing, while I asked a lot of questions.
Teena answered them:
“Larry and Aaron’s wedding was great. It was five years ago. Gay weddings are the best. We all went. Music, food, drinks, table settings, all of it, just perfect.”
“Larry and Aaron? They’ll like twins. They should host a lifestyle TV show. Although Aaron’s the much better dresser with those bright sports coats and always, the bare ankles and two-thousand dollar shoes.”
“I have no idea what Aaron does for a living.”
“I don’t know! People’s sex lives are, well, theirs. Whatever.”
“No, haven’t seen Larry since the pandemic started in 2019.”
“Sure, Larry and I email and text. Email mostly. And he’s been on the phone for a couple of meetings.”
“No, Larry doesn’t do Zoom meetings. Several on our staff don’t. That’s OK, no big deal.”
“Yes, Allan’s manuscripts keep coming in through Larry.”
I headed back home. My head was spinning.
When overwhelmed, I try to make things simple. So when I got home, I wrote:
I know Aaron Green and Katie Jatos exist because I saw them.
I have not seen Larry Campbell or Allan Jatos.
Why am I doing this? How did I get hung up on these people? Oh, that’s right, I saw a grave with a book-ish tombstone near Dorothy Parker’s grave. And off I went! There may be something seriously wrong with me.
Tomorrow: I don’t know