During the flight, I sat next to a really nice old lady. She had three beautiful children and seventeen grandchildren. All true. I saw each single photo. All seventeen. I told myself next time I was driving, but it’s frowned upon to drink and drive, and during the quick flight I’ve had the pleasure of two Bloody Marys. Consider it self-medication from Betty and her family tree itemization.
With a little beat to my step, I’m off the plane and heading down the terminal to baggage. I hear someone calling my name and turn to see a big sign with my name on it. And a cute little blonde holding it.
“What? What are you doing here? Don’t you have to be at the hotel?” I smile, happy to see Kristen.
“Nah, welcoming you into the wonderful state of New York is more important. Plus, I have Tara holding down the fort.”
“Yikes, how mad is she?”
“Oh, that girl would sexually pleasure me if I asked. These young kids nowadays will do anything to work their way up in the publishing industry ladder.”
I’m looking at her wide-eyed.
“I mean, I wouldn’t ask, geez. I haven’t gotten that desperate yet.”
We laugh, and she tells me she’ll have the driver grab my bags. Escorting me to the limo, we hop in, and she hands me a beer.
“Okay, so I’m going to go into publicist mode, really quick. I’ve confirmed and double confirmed. Your room will be located on the west wing. Mr. Bates will be on the east. Your room name is under Frenchy Burgess. That way if he gets sneaky he won’t find your reservation.”
I laugh. “Frenchy Burgess? Really?”
“Yeah, I had a dream once I was married to this guy. He was like crazy rich and took me to all these fancy places, but he kept calling me Frenchy Burgess. Hell knows why. Either way, it’s now your undercover identity.
“Now for tables. You’re now on the other side of the ballroom. I tried to keep it quiet as long as I could, but you know readers. They want to know where they’re going. So, it’s been released. Assuming Mr. Bates has gotten wind.”
Like I care. And why should he? It all seems a bit silly hearing how out of the way Kristen has to go to keep me from getting my feelings hurt again. I’m honestly better and pretty over it all. Her phone rings and she looks at who’s calling.
“Yep, just got wind,” she says, putting her finger up to take the call. “Kristen Miller here. Yes, Mr. Bates… I understand that, but it worked better with the layout… And I also understand that, but it’s not about money. It’s about better traffic flow.” She’s listening to whatever he’s saying, her eyes forming a sadness to them. “I know and I’m sorry, but this is about business, Charlie. You know I can’t ask that… I’ll notify Tara of your requests.” She hangs up and sticks her phone in her back pocket. Refusing to tell me what just happened, she perks back up and claps her hands together.
“Okay, so I have you doing your interviews once we get to the hotel. Learning the only way I’m going to get them is if I do them before the signing.” She smiles humorously and as the door of the limo opens to our arrival she grabs my hand and escorts me into New York’s glorious Four Seasons hotel.
It seems I was doing myself a service by skipping out on these interviews. It’s one thing to fill out the forms answering each and every question, but it’s another to be on the spotlight while someone drills you about anything and everything. The two most asked questions were, was I Abby, and when does my next book release. When I opened my mouth to say, what next book, Kristen stepped in and answered. And apparently, we are looking at some time next year.
We were?
“What was that about back there?” I ask as we exit the meeting room. Keeping a smile on my face because readers are everywhere, I lean into Kristen. “I’m not writing another book.”
“I know, but they don’t need to know that. Readers want to know you’re going to give them more.”
“And what I gave them wasn’t enough?”
“Nope. Welcome to the world of new indie age of publishing. There are so many writers out there, if you don’t keep up, you’ll get lost in the shuffle. Lots of fish, big sea, kinda thing.”
“Isn’t it small fish? And I don’t want to keep up,” I say, trying to keep up with her fast pace. Kristen always being on the go clearly stays so skinny by her constant speed walking. “Dude, will you slow down! I don’t plan on writing anything else. I’m done after this,” I say, just as we turn the corner.
Smacking right into Chase Green, like the color, Charlie Bates, like the motel.
Fuck.
God, he looks good.
So, so good.
Blink, Katie.
“Hey.” His voice is soft but noticeably nervous. Realizing he’s holding me, he quickly lets go, jamming his hands into his pockets as if to keep himself constrained.
“Hi,” I repeat, unsure what else to say or do. Kristen is definitely not sure, because she keeps looking back and forth between us. My skin feels on fire where his hands once touched me and my hands are starting to feel fidgety.
“Wow, you look really good. Great. I mean, better than that… You—”
“Thanks, so do you,” I cut him off, saving him from wherever he was going with that. I end up following suit, jamming my own hands in my back pockets. I guess I get it now. It’s so we keep our hands to ourselves. Because right now, mine want to reach out and touch him.
“Okay, well, Katie, we really need to get you checked in and to your interviews.”
I turn to her. “I thought we just finish—”
She grabs my arm. “Okay! So sorry, Charlie, I need my famous author. Let me know if you need anything.” She beams at him then starts pulling me away.
I pass by him, our shoulders briefly touching. The smell of his cologne seeps into my nostrils when I hear him call my name. I turn, watching him.
“It’s really great to see you.”
I don’t reply. I slowly nod and force myself to turn, allowing Kristen to drag me away.