212 LP: A Novel (30 page)

L
ike all of my earlier novels,
212
was inspired by real-world events. If the revelation of the hidden strings tying fiction to life ruins the magic for you, skip the next five paragraphs and jump forward to the shout-outs.

Many readers will have recognized at least one of the headline-capturing cases that made its way into
212
. On March 12, 2008, then New York Governor Eliot Spitzer admitted during a live press conference that he was the mysterious “Client 9” listed in a federal criminal indictment involving an escort service called Emperors’ Club VIP. In the ensuing days, the political career of a man once mentioned as a potential presidential candidate had ended, the public learned more than it needed about seemingly privileged young women who nevertheless sold their bodies for money, and members of the media openly challenged the former first lady of New York’s decision to stand by her man.

Governor Spitzer was not the first state governor to be brought down by a sex scandal (nor of course, as the last year has taught us, would he be the last). In May 2004, under pressure from the
Willamette Week
, a free weekly paper in Portland, former Oregon Governor Neil Goldschmidt revealed that he had engaged in a three-year sexual relationship with his fourteen-year-old babysitter while he was Portland’s mayor in the 1970s. Once an honor student, the
former babysitter grew into a troubled adulthood marked by drug dependency, further victimization, and a stint in federal prison. Several members of the governor’s political inner circle were alleged to have known about the so-called “affair” and abetted a thirty-year cover-up. A civil settlement paid to the woman in the mid-1990s came with a confidentiality agreement.

To a plot loosely inspired by threads of these two political sex scandals, I added the role of the Internet in the modern sex trade. Even the quickest scan of Craig’s List reveals that scalped concert tickets and used sporting goods are not the only easy scores on the Web. As I perused barely veiled offers of sex for money online, I thought of the danger these women put themselves in. On April 14, 2009, two weeks after I turned in the manuscript of
212
, a New York City woman named Julissa Brisman was shot in a Boston hotel room after advertising her services as an erotic masseuse on the Web site. The media dubbed her alleged murderer “The Craig’s List Killer.”

Craig’s List is not the only Web site in
212
that is real. So is the Erotic Review, where “hobbyists” across the country post book review-like feedback on the “providers” who service them, down to details about appearance, professionalism, restrictions, and promptness. And the Campus Juice site that terrorizes poor Megan Gunther is based on Juicy Campus, which enticed users with the promise of anonymous campus gossip, going so far as to instruct especially cautious posters to use Internet provider cloaking devices to avoid detection. When Juicy Campus went out of business in 2009, its owner blamed the economic downturn, rather than the controversy that led to civil suits, investigations by attorneys general, and spam attacks against the site.

In the final pages of
212
, Ellie marvels at the continual ability of human beings to surprise her. I feel the same way, and for that I’m grateful. The moment I’m no longer surprised by the kinds of events that inspired the plot of this book, it will be time for me to stop writing.

For ongoing assistance in the worlds of technology and law enforcement, I am thankful to Gary Moore, NYPD Detective Lucas Miller, retired NYPD Lieutenant Al Kaplan, retired NYPD Desk Sergeant Edward Devlin, Josh Lamborn, David Lesh, and Deputy District Attorneys John Bradley, Chris Mascal, Greg Moawad, Heidi Moawad, and Don Rees. I thank my students at Hofstra Law School for tethering me to a more realistic and vibrant world than I might otherwise know as a writer and law professor. I thank Lee Child for serving as
212
’s first reader and Lisa Unger for her help with
212
’s title.

I consider myself blessed by the most effective, professional, and supportive team in publishing: At the Spitzer Literary Agency, Philip Spitzer (no relation to Eliot) and his associates Lukas Ortiz and Lucas Hunt; Holden Richards at Kitchen Media; and, at HarperCollins, Christine Boyd, Jonathan Burnham, Heather Drucker, Kyle Hansen, Michael Morrison, Jason Sack, Kathy Schneider, and Debbie Stier. I especially thank Jennifer Barth for her tireless commitment to my work and irreplaceable editorial eye.

I appreciate the generosity of readers who donated to worthy charitable organizations to see their names lent to some of the characters in
212
. Also making cameos as the
212
bartenders were Dennis, Jill, and Mark, the people who keep me fed and hydrated when I don’t feel like cooking (i.e., every day).

I send a special note of thanks to the online friends I’ve made through my Web site, Facebook, MySpace, and Twitter. Writing is a solitary life, but you have become part of my workplace. Like the constant presence of colleagues, your notes provide community, encouragement, sanity, and—ah, yes—procrastination. OMG, I appreciate it. LOL. If you read my books and haven’t yet connected with me online, I hope you’ll do so.

Finally, I thank my husband, Sean. Not enough words. Ever.

Jacket photography © Image Source/Getty Images

Jacket design by Archie Ferguson