Room 18 excerpts

I've included a few excerpts from my completed novel, Room 18, below.

It is the fall of 2008, and Shay Thatcher is just getting settled into her new life in London. After the loss of both her mother and her job in Washington D.C. during the recession, she lands what she believes is her dream job - working as an associate curator at the British Museum. But, when she (literally) runs into a mysterious sketch artist drawing from the Parthenon Marble sculptures, her quiet, albeit lonely life takes a drastic turn. When the unnamed artist invites her to dinner, a discussion with a gang of art-world vigilantes goes sideways. She leaves abruptly, content to never see them again. Unfortunately, Shay is too headstrong to let the evening pass unresolved. The next day at work, she discovers that at least three works in the British Museum are forgeries, apparently at the hands of her recent company. A few days later, when one of the vigilantes sneaks back into the Parthenon Gallery to see her, Shay has one more chance to pursue a very out of character opportunity - help them steal the Parthenon Marbles from Room 18, and return them to Athens.

The novel is complete, and at present, I am seeking representation for its publication.

It's unnerving to be in there alone with them. You can feel them humming with the energy of unfathomable time – centuries old rocks that have seen more history than we can conceive of. There they sit, paused in powerful motion for eternity, immortal and yet obliterated by years of explosive pillagings and clumsy changes in scenery.  The figures that were  previously perfectly fitted into the triangular shape atop the Parthenon, 45 feet in the air, now reside at eye level.  

In a sea of British pub-goers, Theo pretty much fits the bill as far as appearance, but when my eyes finally land on him, I do recognize him. He sits next to a half finished pint, slightly hunched over on a stool at the bar. It’s clear that being on the taller side doesn’t really suit him as well as he’d like. He has black, wavy hair and the front chunk of it flops down in front of his face, covering his new lesion from an unfortunate meeting with the Duveen Gallery floor. He leans over a small pocket journal, flipping through the pages with a pen in his mouth.  He’s wearing black rimmed round glasses, which is a new feature since I’d seen him last. I walk towards him, but he doesn’t look up.

The man beside Giannis has said nothing since he sat down. His silence is unsettling me, and the fact that nobody has bothered introducing him is making it even weirder. That aside, he is a very clean cut man, a bit taller than Giannis but younger, and dressed very simply but smartly. His dark, coiled hair is shorn very close to his head, and he sports a noticeable but intentional shadow on his face, wearing a white turtleneck under a boxy mustard-colored sweater with olive pants. It looks like someone constructed him geometrically.  In a different situation, I’d probably find him quite  attractive.

Theo looks at his feet, but doesn’t seem very affected. I have a feeling this is just how their relationship works. I sigh as Giannis lets me off the hook, but before I can breathe in again, he turns to me.  “Shay, you are incredibly lucky that my granddaughter is nearly as cunning as I am.”  He walks in my direction, until he is inches away from my face.  I stand frozen as he says intensely, “Do you understand? This is not a game. This is happening tomorrow night. If you put another toe out of line, you are off of this mission. Tonight, tomorrow night, or any time before all fifteen statues are out of this blasted country and safely deposited into their spots at the Acropolis Museum. I am talking about months of silence. There are zero chances remaining. Is that understood?”  His voice booms with finality throughout the cavernous room. I am paralyzed. My whole body is vibrating, and I think if I speak, I am going to start crying. Giannis is shorter than me too, but I feel as if he is eight feet tall, looming over me with the power of a god.  I nod quickly, wide eyed, and choke out, “I’m sorry, sir.” “Did you tell anyone else?” he growls, his tone steady and low. “No, sir. I promise. I…” I swallow. “I don’t have any other friends here.” I feel a tear about to slip from the corner of my eye, and will it to go back to its assigned seat, tamped deep within my quietly lonely soul. It does not listen, and I reach up to quickly brush it away. He looks between my eyes for a few seconds and backs away. Theo gently puts his hand on my back and ushers me towards the table, his childish attitude dissolved by my fragility. It is silent for a second. I hear the sink running from behind the partition. It turns off, and Kal walks up from the bathroom wearing a black robe with her hair pulled up into a clip, her face stripped of any minimal makeup she may have had on during the day. She stops walking as soon as her gaze falls on the table. She looks between each of us and lands on Alicia, eyes wide, and says nothing.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you,” I say to Amelia. She takes my hand and does the same thing she did to Kal.  She is a bit affected, I think, by her status as a DaVinci, if not only by marriage.

“I’m terrified,” I blurt out. “Me too,” he says with a straight face. “Have been for weeks. What else is there to do, though? Worry?” He scoffs. “Why live through it twice?” “Because… It's kind of wrong, isn’t it Theo? What I’m about to do tomorrow is, undoubtedly, the worst thing I will have ever done to date. It’s honestly worse than what you’re doing. I’m going to drug someone. I don't have anything that is even a close second to that on my conscience right now.” “You know, you’re kind of soft for a criminal, Shay.” “You literally draw pictures for a living.” He slows down to park out front of the hotel, but lets off the clutch too fast. The car stalls before we get to the valet. He groans and turns off the car. “Touché.”

I would love to send along a full manuscript for discussion, beta reading, or consideration for publication. Feel free to reach out on social media or at my email, all linked below.