“Your muse?”
“Evan,” I explained, “the guy who forever belongs to you.” I laughed but she didn’t join in. She was inanimate.
“He tells me what to write,” I explained, trying to reduce the crazy wafting in the space between us, “but I haven’t heard from him in a few months, so unfortunately, I’ve been unable to write anything meaningful. I hope I hear from him soon. The minute he shows up, I’ll be able to write the next story.”
The woman’s eye twitched.
“But it was really nice to meet you…” I waited for her to fill in the blank.
“Red,” she finally said.
Makes sense, but…
“Is that your real name?”
Red chuckled and her fingers tightened on the straps of her bag. “You’ll find out my real name in due course,” she answered.
What?
Before I could consider asking for clarification, she turned on her heel and headed for the door, which the security man quickly opened.
Chapter Two
Simone
“Didn’t I tell you?” the security man snapped, turning the key a second time. “That woman was freakier than fucking Friday. You should’ve left her ass right on the sidewalk.”
I was usually a huge fan of alliterations, but my mind was still stuck on Red. I couldn’t deny that she’d been a weird one. I rarely encountered that type. There’d been one time I’d received an email from a fan who wanted to meet up for coffee – that had crossed the line of comfort for me. There’d also been the time when a reader had tried to friend me on social media, and when I did, the dick-pics were relentless. Other than that, I’d never met a crazy in real life.
When another group of readers pressed against the door, the security man glared at me; but he didn’t have to worry about me commanding him to let them in. Red had been enough to remind me that it was time to transition to the next activity.
“We’re good,” I said pushing my chair back again. “Those readers are gonna’ have to catch me at my next event, whenever that will be.”
The man grumbled something under his breath and fanned the frowning readers away. “These people are fanatics!” he commented. “Guess they don’t have lives.”
Apparently not, but, “I can’t complain. Having people call out my name and beg to touch me, like I’m some big-time celebrity, is the stuff dreams are made of, isn’t it?”
“It sure as hell is,” Dinah chimed in, strutting towards the table. A steaming latte was in each of her hands as she made her way towards me, wearing heels that were just as high as mine. “And what’s more,” she continued, because she always had everything to say, “this is exactly what Simone signed up for when she decided to become a bestselling author. Isn’t that right, Storm?” She handed me my beverage.
“Like I was saying, I can’t and won’t complain,” I finally finished my thought. Instantly, my mind was back on Red, Evan and the deadline – in that order.
Dinah hmphed and sat herself on the edge of my highly decorated table. A six-foot banner boasting my face and writing credentials towered on my right side, framed by balloons and streamers. Glitter was everywhere, and with the way Dinah was perched on the table like a gawdy ornament, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she got some of it up her ass.
“Who was that woman?” she asked tipping her head in the direction of the exit. “I mean, I know she was a reader, but she seemed a little on edge. What was her problem?”
“Her name was Red.”
“Red? Her mama wrote that on her birth certificate?”
“I have no idea,” I droned out, looking in the direction too, even though the woman had long gone. “And who the hell knows what her problem was? She’s like my characters: disgruntled and edgy. She probably needs some dick.”
Dinah laughed. “We all do,” she agreed, “and reading your novels is a good start. If she doesn’t have a man, maybe she has a selection of toys at home. She can handle her business until her knight in shining armor shows up.”
We laughed again and my anxiety about the woman faded. She was a person, just like the rest of us. I’d been wrong to judge her.
“So, how do you think it went?” I asked, eager for my manager’s assessment. If there was one thing I could count on, it was that Dinah would tell me the truth, not just about the books and the events and the business, but about my life.
“It was fabulous,” was her quick analysis. Then she added more. “We travelled with fifty-five boxes of books and swag, and every single one of them is gone!”
“Well, that’s a good thing,” I said, stretching my legs for the first time in hours. “Carrying all that merch was a complete nightmare. You have no idea how glad I am that we don’t have to take any of it back.”
Dinah scoffed and flicked her hand through the air, as if the thought were farfetched.
“Girl, please,” she begged. “As if Simone Storm is gonna’ show up in any city and not sell out. You don’t get it do you, Storm? This is what the people want. This is what the readers want. They want that sexy-ass erotic romance author, wearing red bottom stilettos and leather. This is what your future man wants…” She slapped my ass and I jerked, shocked.
One thing, I’d never lack in the ego department with Dinah. This was why I kept her around. But what she was saying was true. I’d worked my ass off to achieve the accolades I’d amassed up to that point. It might have looked easy on the surface, but the success I’d achieved was the result of late nights writing and the sacrifice of any kind of a social life. Not only that, after the accident I had two years ago, I’d had to rebuild everything from scratch.
The lining of my throat thickened just thinking about it, but Dinah’s singing voice and my inherent hopes for the future reeled me back in.
“The point is, not to forget how far you’ve come, Storm,” she encouraged me warmly. She was only three years older than me, but the old soul in her wouldn’t die. “Don’t forget how hard you’ve worked. You’re not here by chance,” she preached. “You’re here because that’s how God designed it.”
“What are you talking about now?” I asked, shaking my head, smiling.
“I’m just saying,” she said with a shrug. “Nothing happens by chance and don’t you ever forget that.”
I hmphed and took a sip of my latte. “Well, with a manager like you, I don’t think it’s possible to forget anything.”
“Not anymore, anyway,” she said. Pride made her eyes shine and we smiled at each other for a second, but when the words I’d said replayed in my head, mine shook and fell off.
Dinah cleared her throat and eased herself off the table. “Now for some well-deserved downtime before we need to hit the ground running with the next release,” she ordered.
“We?” I parroted. “You mean you’re actually going to help me come up with a plot line and conduct research?”
“Oh, you didn’t understand,” she chuckled, lifting a brow. “When I say we, I actually mean you. Besides, I’ve tried to assist with research before and I got the sense my efforts were not well-received.”