Six Floors from Somewhere

By Rachel Tolman Terry

Megan McCoy arrives in New York City with more than just a couple of garage sale suitcases. She's got her talent, her determination, her first aid kit, and her goodwill toward her fellow humans. With an internship squared away at a well-established NYC literary agency, she's ready for success!

But it doesn't take Megan long to realize that making her dream come true might be a little trickier than she planned. For instance, her roommate Cassandra is a bit of a diva. Her internship isn't quite what she thought it would be. She quickly finds herself in the middle of a strange love triangle (or is it a trapezoid?). She even gets rejected from the church choir!

Can this Midwestern Mormon girl carve out a place for her life and her dreams in the Big Apple? Can she reconcile her generous nature to the demands of finding success in a highly competitive environment?

Enjoy Six Floors from Somewhere's quirky cast of characters. There's Megan's roommate Cassandra, a thirty-something stage performer who is always just one audition away from stardom. You'll meet Clay, a long, tall Texan with endless talent but not quite enough confidence. There's beautiful Ashley who worries about falling short of her parents' expectations even while she develops a pretty amazing business on the sly. And then, of course, there's Owen Clack, the loyal Columbia statistics major who steals Megan's heart as he putters around the city in his socks and sandals.

Through her adventures, Megan learns much more than her boss Julie anticipated teaching her. By the time her internship is over, Megan's life will never be the same.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rachel Tolman Terry
• Release date: Nov 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370531097

Rachel Tolman Terry

Rachel Terry is an author and mother of three charming teenagers. She was the managing editor of Mapletree Publishing Company in Denver, Colorado, and has authored and co-authored several books as well as Tolman Hall literature curriculum. She has contributed to national magazines such as The Old Schoolhouse, Practical Homeschooling, and BackHome. Rachel tutors for Lincoln Literacy and is the founder of School Choice Lincoln, an organization devoted to expanding school choice in Nebraska. She has spoken about educational issues on Southern California’s The Real Side radio program, Lincoln’s KLIN and KFOR, and Fox & Friends. Rachel studied English at Brigham Young University and lives in Lincoln with her husband and children.

Book preview

Six Floors

from

Somewhere

RACHEL TOLMAN TERRY

Copyright © 2017 Rachel Tolman Terry

ISBN: 9781370531097

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Edited by Rebecca Waldman

To Mom and Dad

who always make me feel like a superhero

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to my husband Ben for his endless encouragement, to my children for their good ideas, and to friends and colleagues for their feedback, input, and suggestions. Rebecca Waldman’s editing was invaluable, and I so appreciate the design work of Traci Osborn and Nels Drue Daily. Thank you to Shannon Binkley, Teresa Hirst, Krisette Spangler, Deanna Tolman, and Ali Benefield for their honest insights and suggestions.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

More!

CHAPTER ONE

Beverly Fox Literary Agency

32 W. 22nd Street, Suite 200

New York, NY 10010

June 4, 2017

Dear Ms. McCoy,

Based on your submitted materials and our Skype interview, we’re pleased to offer you an internship at Beverly Fox Literary Agency beginning August 26, 2017.

If you perform as we expect you will, we will offer you a position as assistant literary agent at the end of the calendar year. Although the internship is not a paid position, the assistant literary agent position pays $15/hour. Your duties in this position would include writing editorial notes for manuscripts; assisting agents in pitching and submitting manuscripts to editors; coordinating communication between authors, editors, agents, and subsidiary rights associates; writing and copyediting website content; producing marketing plans for clients; and managing interns regarding their daily duties and long-term projects.

We sincerely hope you’ll accept our internship offer. Please fill out, sign, and return the enclosed paperwork to let us know of your plans.

Best,

Julie Carmona

Literary Agent, BFLA

Enclosures

Megan folded the letter back up, its creases wearing thin, and slid it back into its tired envelope. She tucked it away in her knapsack and pulled out her phone. A text from her mom popped up.

Are you on the plane yet?

Yep! Just waiting for everyone to board.

Did you get something to eat?

I still have the sandwich you made me. Thank you!

Will you let me know when you arrive in NY?

Of course. Love you, Mom!

Um, excuse me, a soft male voice said from the aisle.

Yes?

I think I have the middle seat here. Could I get past you? the man asked. He was looking from his boarding pass to the numbers printed above Megan’s row.

The man was probably in his twenties or early thirties, and he wore khaki pants and a plaid collared shirt, open to a faded blue t-shirt underneath. His girth consumed most of the aisle, and he looked apologetically at Megan as she slid out of her aisle seat to allow him room.

The man sat down first in the aisle seat and then scooted over to the middle. His knees bumped up against the seat in front of him, and he closed his eyes for more than a second, trying to fish the seatbelt out from between the middle seat and the window seat, which was occupied by a middle-aged woman already engrossed in a novel.

Hold on a sec, Megan said. She flagged down a flight attendant.

Hi, Megan said to the woman with the wide red smile. Would it be okay if this gentleman and I switched spots? I have really short legs, so the middle seat is great for me, and he’d be more comfortable on the aisle.

The flight attendant looked back and forth between tiny Megan and the large man with a couple of sweat beads forming on his forehead. She winked at them. Sure, no problem, she said.

Thanks, Megan said. The man hoisted himself out of the seat and into the aisle, and Megan slipped into the middle seat. With downcast eyes, he quietly seated himself in the aisle seat and then smiled gratefully at Megan.

Very kind of you, the man said. I’m Chuck. He extended a large, strong hand toward her, and she shook it.

Megan McCoy, she said. Nice to meet you!

Chuck clicked his seatbelt into the clasp next to his hip and stuck one leg out into the aisle.

Megan fished her dog-eared Peter Cohen novel out of her bag and used the bookmark to flip the pages open.

After the flight orientation was finished and the plane had successfully lifted off, Chuck turned to Megan.

So, Megan McCoy, where are you going?

Me? Well, I’m going to New York for an internship. How about you?

An internship? That’s exciting, Chuck said. What kind of internship?

Excited to have someone to talk with about it, Megan began, It’s with the Beverly Fox Literary Agency. I want to be a literary agent. If I do a good job, they’ll hire me as a full-time employee at the end of the year.

A literary agent? That’s cool, Chuck said. Hm. You must like reading, he said, motioning to the open novel on her lap. What’s that one?

This? Oh, it’s a Peter Cohen novel. She turned the book over so he could see Peter’s picture with his lion’s mane of white, distinguished hair. Did you know Peter Cohen lives in New York? I wonder if I’ll run into him somewhere, maybe see him while I’m walking through Central Park? You never know…

That’s true. You never do, Chuck said, smiling amusedly. He looked past Megan to the window on the other side of the reading woman. Megan looked, too. They were just emerging from the misty clouds, and the mid-day sunshine poured into the plane’s windows.

What do you do? Megan asked, turning to face him.

Me? Chuck asked. Well, I sit in front of a computer all day. And sometimes all night, too. He chuckled.

What do you do on the computer? Megan asked.

I mix music, Chuck said.

Mix music? Like a D.J.? Megan asked. They were already touching because of his size, which was a tiny bit uncomfortable at first, but Megan didn’t mind. She figured she’d have to get used to being close to lots of people all the time with the subway and all.

Sort of, Chuck mused. He scratched his ear and then his chin. You really want to hear about it?

Of course! Megan said.

Okay, Chuck said. So, recording music has changed a lot. I mean, some bands still go to recording studios and record an entire song at once until they get it just right. That’s how recording used to be for everyone. But now, with the amazing software we have, you can basically create music right there on your computer with a variety of pre-recorded sounds and tracks.

Wait a minute, Megan said. You create the music on your computer?

Mostly, yeah, Chuck said. I mean, we have people come in and record the vocals and we’ll have people come record different parts of the instrumentals, but the way it’s all put together, you would never know it’s mostly done on a computer by a guy like me.

That’s so cool! Megan said. What kind of music do you work on?

Well here, Chuck said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Do you have some earbuds?

Megan listened with amazement at the music Chuck had been working on lately. He’d actually helped to create some songs she’d heard on the radio, and he even let her listen to some of his experimental projects he’d been working on in his spare time.

After an hour or so of learning about Chuck’s work and his projects and his childhood in a Phoenix suburb, Megan said, People are so interesting. You just never know who you’ll meet and what they’ll teach you.

Isn’t that the truth, Chuck said, taking a packet of pretzels from the flight attendant and handing packets down to Megan and the window seat lady. And what about you? Where are you from?

I’m from Kansas, Megan said. "Lawrence. I just graduated from Kansas State this spring. I worked on a ranch over the summer full-time and did some part-time writing for the Lawrence Chronicle."

I don’t think I’ve ever met someone from Kansas, Chuck said. Do you like it there?

Yeah, it’s nice, Megan said. She took a sip of apple juice and returned it to the fold-down tray. Her juice stood companionably next to Chuck’s Sprite. His tummy made it impossible to use his fold-down tray. I mean, it’s not very exciting or anything, but the people are friendly, the weather’s not bad, and it’s a place where someone like me can feel tall.

Why? Because of all the Munchkins? he asked. They both laughed, and the window seat reader shot them a dirty look.

That’s a good one, Megan said. Yes, because of all the Munchkins. No, actually, it’s because when you’re the only person out in the middle of the field, you feel kind of like an exclamation mark, you know? It’s like a person is the one thing that can make things happen. And I like that feeling. She took a pretzel out of the package and popped it in her mouth.

Chuck took out his phone and made a note. I like that, he said. Could I use that idea in lyrics?

What idea?

About people being like exclamation marks.

Megan laughed. Have at it. He made a few more notes on his phone and said, Do you have a business card?

Me? No, Megan said. That’s funny.

Well, can I get your contact info then? I might need more ideas about these lyrics, he said.

Oh, sure, Megan said. She got out her phone and they exchanged contact information.

Do you know anyone in New York? Chuck asked.

Not yet.

I do, he said. I know lots of people there, and I think you should be careful. You trust people too much.

Why do you say that? Megan asked.

You don’t know me at all and you just gave me your phone number. Don’t you think your parents would worry about that just a little?

So you know I’m an adult, right? Megan said. I mean, I know I’m the size of an average 12-year-old. Okay maybe 11-year-old. But I’m not exactly a shrinking violet.

Chuck laughed.

I appreciate your concern, Mr….what’s your last name?

Ryan.

I appreciate your concern, Mr. Chuck Ryan. Hey, that’s a pretty cool name, Megan said. I like it.

Well, all I’m saying is that you should be on your guard a little bit. Not a lot. I wouldn’t want you ignoring people who need to switch seats with you or anything. But don’t go around making best friends everywhere you look.

Right, Megan said. Because too many friends is a big problem in New York.

Right, Chuck said. Yeah, that’s it. Did you have a hard time finding a place to live?

Not really, Megan said. I found a Facebook page for single people at my church, and there was a woman looking for a roommate. She seems really nice. I’ve been texting her a lot. Cassandra. Megan showed him Cassandra’s profile picture on her phone.

Wowsers! Chuck said, his brown eyes bulging. She’s your roommate?

Megan held her phone out in front of her and tried to look at Cassandra’s picture from a man’s perspective. Cassandra had flawless pale skin and unnaturally green eyes. Her red hair was long and full. Megan would have to be the plain roommate. She could accept that.

Yeah, that’s her, Megan said.

The captain came on the intercom and announced that they would be landing within ten minutes. It was time to put up the trays and position the seats in their full, upright positions. The flight attendants made one last pass through the cabin, searching for trash, reminding passengers to put on their seatbelts, and enforcing the seats-back-up order.

Megan said good-bye to Chuck Ryan, and before long, her feet were firmly planted on New York soil. Concrete.

Megan heaved her enormous suitcases off the baggage claim conveyor belts. One was red, and one was blue.

Both were garage sale finds that her mother had proudly brought home one Saturday morning in June. She positioned her bag crosswise across her chest and wondered what to do next.

She squinted at a diagram of the airport mounted at ceiling height. Why did they put it way up there? A giant in a uniform rammed right into one of her suitcases, sending Megan sprawling on top of the other suitcase.

It’s okay, I’m okay, Megan said, scrambling to her feet and wiping the airport dust off her new skirt.

What are you doing? Get outta the way!" the man barked at her as he hurried off.

Megan stared at his uniformed back getting smaller and then disappearing into the crowd. She heaved the two suitcases side-by-side and dragged them out of the way, standing against a wall just long enough to take a few deep breaths and regroup.

Excuse me, a black woman with flawlessly slicked- back hair said.

Um, what? Megan stammered.

Could you move? I’m trying to get in that locker behind you, the woman said.

Megan turned around and saw that she’d flattened herself against a wall of lockers.

Oh, sorry, Megan said. She dragged the suitcases away from the lockers. The woman was whipping the dial of a padlock back and forth with machine-like precision. She knew what she was doing. Could you tell me where the taxis are? I need to catch a taxi.

Go up that escalator, turn left, and follow the noise, the woman said without even glancing at Megan. She was expertly folding something small at lightning speed. She smacked her gum and slammed the locker.

Up the escalator, turn left, follow the noise, Megan said to herself. Up the escalator. Left. Noise.

As she approached the escalator, she thought about how to maneuver the suitcases so she’d be able to hang on to both of them during her ascent.

After trying various configurations, she settled on pushing one suitcase ahead of her and dragging the other behind her. It seemed to be working while the escalator was flat, but as soon as the first step rose, she saw the problem with her plan. All of Megan’s five feet and one and one-quarter of an inch of height were not quite enough to handle her luggage at this angle. The top suitcase got so tall that she couldn’t