He’d been quiet for days…
The last of the readers walked away after I’d signed their copy of my latest release and the head honcho of security marched behind them swinging a heavy ring of keys.
I exhaled, partially relieved that it had come to an end, but also conscious of the impending deadline and the stress that would come with trying to meet it.
“Storm.” The security man’s voice yanked me out of my head. “You’re all done, and I know it’s been a long-ass day, but there’s a reader who’s begging me to let her in.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder, and that’s when I saw a lady peering through the glass doors. She was staring at me, holding my latest release in her hands, but I couldn’t help but think that her presence didn’t fit the romance reader prototype.
She was a beautiful woman, but something about her looked a little wild, like she’d seen the back side of a mental institution a few times. Her fire-red hair was cut into a severe, blunt style, and I couldn’t help but notice the resolute glare in her eyes. She looked like she was a few cards short of a full deck, but who was I to judge? She was a reader, and everyone needed the escape of romance, even someone like her. If she was this hell bent on meeting me, there was no way I could turn her way.
“Let her in,” I instructed the security man, trying to smile through my fatigue. “One more won’t hurt, right?”
His response was a gruff grunt, as if he’d have made a different decision; but this was for my readers. Yes, I was busted, and yes, I was ready for some R-and-R, but who knew when I’d be back in the city for a signing? I lived a few hours out and I didn’t get here often. The hustle and bustle was often too much for me. I preferred to keep things quiet.
The security man yanked the door open and the woman had barely crossed the threshold before he was shoving a key into the lock.
I frowned. He wasn’t part of my team, but I’d definitely talk to Dinah about him. That wasn’t the kind of energy I was trying to give off. She was famous for hosting long-ass meetings with agendas that spanned the better part of two pages. Adding security to the list wouldn’t be a big deal for her.
The woman proceeded to my table, and the fact that her demeanor was different compared to all the other readers I’d met that day could not be ignored. In fact, the level look on her face almost implied that she didn’t even want to be there. I wrote interracial romance, so maybe she wasn’t a fan of the whole racial mixing thing. My females were strong and ethnic, and my heroes were alpha and tanned, and there were people who didn’t support that; but if that was the case, why had she bothered to come?
“Are you Simone Storm?” she asked. Her voice matched her look – steely and cold.
“In the flesh,” was my response. Damn! Sis was chillier than the September wind whipping up in the streets, but there was no way I’d let her rain on my fabulous parade.
My eyes dropped to the book in her hands and I noticed that, not only was it not my most recent release, it looked like she’d read it a million times. The edges were tattered and worn, and I could see where several pages had been dog-eared, like she’d been taking copious notes.
Her gaze followed mine and, almost unnaturally, she stuck out her arm, pushing the book over the table without saying a word.
“I guess you don’t have my newest release,” I supposed, trying to spark a genuine conversation and lighten the mood. “This one is my debut. I wrote it a year ago. I’ve written another book since then.”
“So, I heard,” she said. “I searched high and low for it, but everywhere was sold out.”
“You could have gotten in online,” I suggested.
“True,” she agreed, “but I’m one of those people who likes the friction of the pages between my fingers.” Her voice was unenthusiastic. “Besides, when I heard you’d be having a book signing, I wanted to come straight to the author, see you face to face; feel your energy.”
Okay…
I twisted a little in my seat. “Well, since you’re the last reader of the day, how about I throw in a copy of my latest?” I didn’t wait for a response as I reached over into a nearly empty box and grabbed a hardcover copy of my second book. Then I twisted the end of my pen and flipped the book open. “Anything in particular you want me to write?” I asked. “You just made it through the door, and it seems like it was really important for you to meet me. Maybe you want something really special and personalized in the cover.” I grinned into the woman’s face but was only greeted with stark blue eyes and a quizzical look.
Damn!
“Yeah, maybe you should write something in it,” she considered, as if she hadn’t thought of the possibility, and then she paused, deep in contemplation. After a minute, she had an answer: “Write: To Evan, Forever Yours.”
“Okay…” I scribbled the message on the inside of both books but tried to hide my bewilderment about her request.
To Evan? Like he was a real guy and she was the only woman he would ever need? This bitch looked and sounded like a looney toon. Sure, I talked to Evan on a regular basis, but he was my property. The thought of another woman laying claim to him like this rubbed me wrong.
That doesn’t even make sense. Why the hell are you taking offense to this reader? Evan is every woman’s book boyfriend. You need to relax, Storm.
I finished scribing the strange message and penned my fancy signature and date at the bottom. Then I smiled and snapped the book closed, pushing it back across the table. “I hope you enjoy it,” I said.
“If Evan is in it, I will,” was the response.
My smile stiffened.
“Are you from here?” the woman asked, sliding the books into a fancy purse.
“I’m from around here,” I said cautiously, not wanting to go into detail. I never divulged personal information to readers, but this chick clearly wasn’t working with a full deck.
“Figured,” she said. “It feels like I know you.”
Her comment forced the reality of my unique situation to the surface, but I shoved the nagging emotions to the side. “Maybe you’ve seen me in the newspaper,” I said, easing away from the topic of my personal details. “I’ve been on TV a few times too.”
“No,” she said shaking her head. Her eyes narrowed. “I feel like it’s more than that.”
Our eyes were glued, as if we were trying to place each other, but that was the problem: I couldn’t remember anything, no matter how hard I tried.
Shit, now the nagging emotions were back, the ones I tried to evade on a regular basis. It had been a good day. I wasn’t trying to deal with any of this. This woman had come and brought her negative aura into my Happy Place, but I pinned a smile onto my face and tried to ignore the way my throat was burning.
“I’m grateful for your support,” I said, bringing the interaction to a swift close, “and I hope you enjoy my new release.”
The security man was right: I should have left well enough alone.
I started to push my chair back, but the woman wasn’t catching my hints. “What are you working on now?”
I inhaled and eased back into my seat. “That’s the million-dollar question,” I answered. “I’m actually waiting on my muse to tell me what I’m working on.”