Ear Candy

by Carter, M. E.

  “You know I save the best for last. Besides, I had to hit all the preorders first. Since you insist on sending me signed books with each release, I don’t have any to get from you.”

  Carrie’s eyes glance to my left when she seems to only just notice Matthew. Following her gaze, I watch as he turns on the cover model charm.

  “Hey, darlin’ Are you having fun?”

  Brows furrowed, Carrie replies, “It’s fun as always. Anyway, Donna, I wanted to ask you about—”

  “You wanna picture?” he interrupts.

  “Um… no.”

  Bringing my hand to my mouth, I fake a yawn to hide the laugh that escapes. Shot down.

  “Donna, I’ll message you this week. I wanted to talk about a holiday giveaway idea I had. Talk to you later.”

  Matthew watches as Carrie walks away before turning to me. “See? It doesn’t always work.”

  Laughing, I sit back in my seat and only half-listen to Matthew try to school me on the type of men I should be dating. Like Clara, he has this “put it out into the universe” concept. What I’d really like is to put Hawk Weaver and his voice out into my universe and see what happens.

  How about that?

  Chapter 4

  Todd

  I wasn’t sure what to expect when I convinced Aggi to bring me to her signing, but it certainly wasn’t this pandemonium.

  Readers are supposed to be quiet, nerdy, and introverted. Maybe even in a constant state of library-approved quiet as they shuffle from place to place in their soft-soled shoes.

  Oh how wrong I was. The entire day has been non-stop action which is the exact opposite of what I was hoping for on this mancation.

  First, we got up at oh-dark-thirty to set up. Did Aggi come? No. No she didn’t. Since she’s the “celebrity” in this scenario, she had to take time to get all decked out in her Adeline Snow wear. It was a total copout if you ask me, but she got away with it.

  And yes, I admit she looks hot. But it’s giving me funny feelings in my loins that no one should have about the person who is practically their sibling.

  **shudder**

  Anyway, I got suckered into hauling boxes of books across the damn hotel before having my first cup of coffee. That’s way too close to a workout for my liking. The last time I lifted weights was in high school gym class when I had to move a rogue plate off my foot after Aggi dropped it on my toe. Needless to say the school nurse had the hospital on speed dial after that incident in our weightlifting unit. I can still hear Aggi convincing me to take that ridiculous class, “Take this class with me, Todd. It’ll be an easy A.” Easy A my . . . A-S-S.

  Which reminds me, I need to take some Valentine candy to the ER for Nurse Chilson. She always loves a good Godiva during a twelve-hour shift as I learned on my many trips to the ER over the years.

  But hauling her shit wasn’t the only surprise. When the doors finally opened a couple hours ago, signaling the beginning of this event, women ran, actually ran to get in Aggi’s line. It was unreal.

  It also cemented why I’m not a big reader. It’s all too physically taxing for me. I prefer hobbies that don’t mean dragging carts full of dead trees in circles around a room for eight hours. Even thinking about it sounds exhausting.

  Since I’m already here, though, I’ve been taking advantage of my spare time by practicing different accents with the readers. I’ve also been pretending not to notice my BFF glaring at me from the corner of her eye. Clearly, she doesn’t think my conversations are market research like I do. It’s starting to wig me out that she can shoot daggers from her eyes at me at the exact same time she’s smiling at someone else. The only other person who has ever been able to pull off that magic is my mother. Come to think of it, I bet they’re in on this together.

  As Aggi finishes with a customer, the line moves forward, and a cute brunette stops right in front of me. She’s not paying much attention, too busy looking at the weird floor plan everyone seems to have. Some people even have them color coded. What is that about?

  Watching her for a few moments, I make the determination that she’s relatively normal compared to the room full of fangirls. She’s the perfect guinea pig to try out my New York accent on.

  When I clear my throat, she looks up at me. Now that I’ve got my eyes on my target, I open my mouth channeling Hawk Weaver’s best interpretation of the Friends character, Joey Tribiani.

  “How you doin’?” My head nods and eyebrows waggle for maximum effect.

  She gives me a strangle look before saying, “I’m sorry, what?”

  That wasn’t quite the response I was going for. But since she asked, I might as well try again.

  “I said ‘How you doin’?’”

  She cocks her head at me. “Is there something wrong with your face?”

  “My . . . what?” Rubbing my hands all over my face, I try to figure out what she’s talking about.

  Pointing in the direction of her own forehead, she adds, “It’s just, your eyebrows did this weird thing when you were talking.”

  “What? No they didn’t.”

  “Yes they did. They like, wiggled really weird.”

  I drop my head back and look at the ceiling in frustration. “That’s called waggling my eyebrows. I’m sure you’ve read about it in one of Ag—Adeline’s books.”

  “It looked like two caterpillars fighting.”

  “What?” I look over at Aggi who happens to be listening. She’s way too amused by this conversation. “Oh look. The author is ready for your now,” I deadpan. “Go get your book signed or something.”

  The brunette shrugs like she didn’t just ruin all the dreams I had of nailing my Bronx accent today. Some people, I swear.

  Sliding down into my chair I grumble to myself. “That didn’t go as planned.”

  “Stop creeping out the readers,” Aggi says to me after handing her latest novel to the woman who just crushed my soul and offended my eyebrows. “You’re supposed to be helping me out.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m bringing in customers.”

  She snorts a laugh. What is it with her and the snorting lately?

  “Uh, no. No you’re not. See that guy over there?” She points to some hot stud at her friend Donna Moreno’s table before taking a swig from her water bottle. I’m sure he’s a Calvin Klein model or something. Maybe Abercrombie. “He’s bringing in customers.”

  “Well of course he is. When Ryan Cooper’s doppelgänger shows up, everyone goes ape shit. I wouldn’t mind licking his abs myself. He was quite the naked dancer in Rough Night.”

  “See what I mean? Your lack of filter is bringing those around you discomfort and a desire to run away.”

  “Sorry. Let me try being more alpha.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I flex the new biceps that popped out after carrying all those books this morning. Dropping my voice an octave I give Mr. Personality the once-over. “I could take him.”

  Aggi rolls her eyes. “That’s your idea of being alpha? Threatening to take him on?”

  I throw my hands in the air with exasperation. “What do you expect from me? To whip it out and have a pissing contest? I know for a fact I can win that one, but I don’t like embarrassing other men in public. It goes against part of the bro-code.”

  “I’m so afraid to find out how you know you could win that one.”

  “Donny Smithson challenged me to a piss off in the third grade. I peed way farther.”

  “Wait.” She closes her eyes and crinkles her nose. “Is that when you got in trouble for peeing all over Mrs. Smithson’s chihuahua?”

  “It’s not my fault Pepe ran into the stream.”

  Aggi facepalms herself, literally smacks herself across the face so hard she leaves a red mark. “This is why you can’t get a date,” she mumbles before turning her attention to the readers lining up in front of her table.

  “Oh my gosh, you’re dating Spencer Garrison,” the short round woman with a bob gushes, making Aggie visibly uncomfortable
. Serves her right. I bet that lady would love my New York accent. “Is he a good kisser? You can tell me.”

  Tuning out the lack of personal boundaries conversation, I glance around the room and find myself people watching again. Readers are absolutely fascinating creatures. All they talk about is plot lines and character issues. Someone even started crying when discussing the unexpected death of her favorite male lead.

  At this point, I honestly don’t know how many people in this room realize they read about fictional characters. It’s definitely a fine line with this bunch.

  Unsurprisingly, my eyes gravitate to the table directly across the way from us. Not to the Ryan Cooper look alike, but to the author whose books he cover models for. I met Donna briefly and she is quite impressive, to say the least. Not just in the way she presents herself, which, let’s be honest, stirs more than just my loins. It’s the way she carries herself. She looks like she could write a novel during the day, moderate a city council meeting in the evening, and run a marathon on the weekend for fun, and still find time for a mani/pedi.

  That’s not why I’m drawn to her, though. Something about the way her smile doesn’t quite light up her eyes tells me that tough exterior is hiding an internal struggle of some sort.

  Oh lord, I think, rolling my eyes at myself. I sound like I stepped out of one of Aggi’s books. I need to hit the bar and order an Old Fashioned and a cigar, stat. Maybe I should see if Ryan Cooper wants to wrestle or shoot a gun with me or something else manly. Just not carrying books. I’m wiped from my workout this morning.

  As I watch Donna though, I can’t stop that niggling feeling that something else is going on. She looks put together in every way, but I don’t believe it.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I tear my gaze away. It’s not like I’ll ever get a chance to find out. Women like Donna don’t flock to men like me. I’m just your average guy. Sure I’m a little on the taller side but other than that, I’m just a guy with brown hair, brown eyes, and a crooked nose that only a mother could love. That realization doesn’t hurt my feelings as much as it keeps my expectations realistic.

  I bet I could find a date in this sea of women if I practiced my cockney. That’s what I should do. It’s not like Aggi really needs me. I could go mingle and see if I can score myself a date.

  Now where did that cute brunette go?

  Chapter 5

  Donna

  Sleep.

  I need sleep. Maybe I should give up some of the control in my business. If nothing else, perhaps I need to retain a full-time travel agent. I bet she wouldn’t book my flights so I’m up, dressed, and waiting for a ride-share at four in the morning.

  Four.

  Nothing good happens at this hour. Is this the witching hour I’ve heard about? It sure as shit makes me feel bitchy that’s for sure. In my twenties, I called this bedtime not wakey wakey time. Damn I’m crabby.

  As much as I complain about the hour, I had a wonderful weekend. I almost sold out of my inventory and what was left, I traded with other authors. My personal collection of signed books is going to welcome these new beauties to the shelves and I can’t wait to get them home. My readers never disappoint but this event was even more special. Not only did I finally put faces to the screen names I interact with on a regular basis, I was able to hug many I have become to think of as friends.

  Spending the day with Matthew was a bonus, and I’m grateful for his patience with each of the readers who lost their minds at the sight of him and his damn dimples. Except for Carrie. Seeing her unimpressed with him made me love her even more. I’m sending her two of my books on the next release. She earned them.

  The problem with sitting on a bench in front of this hotel in the dark is the inability to tell how long I’ve actually been here. Ten minutes feels like an hour. Tapping on my phone, I bring up the ride-share app for an update. What the heck? How has it gone from six minutes away to seventeen?

  Sighing, I lean back against the cool window of the hotel and watch as others begin to file out of the building. Some are in pairs while there are a few single individuals milling around. I should offer to share my car with a few of the singles. It makes no sense for four of us to all have our own cars. Contemplating this idea, I spot Adeline and her sister-in-law-to-be, Kate, in the lobby. In true Adi fashion, she stumbles and then laughs as she rights her suitcase.

  When the large doors slide open, Adi and Kate exit, not noticing me as they continue gabbing. I wait for a break in their conversation, so I can say good morning and see if they want to share a car, but the break never comes. Dear Lord, those two can talk. How do they breathe at the speed they’re talking?

  “I mean, I wanted to die. I just stood there. Like a mute, Adi. A mute. She must think I’m a complete loser.”

  “Kate, don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t look like a loser. A mute, maybe.” Adi’s tone is teasing, and I smile because as harsh as someone else may have thought she was being, my friend is too sweet to be cruel.

  “Then, she had that hot-as-fuck model at her table. You had Todd, Adi. I mean, I love Todd. He’s great. I’m not sure about his fashion choices but to each his own. For goodness sake, I’m married to a man who thinks socks with sandals is a good idea so I have no room to judge.”

  Covering my mouth to muffle my laugh, I continue to eavesdrop on the conversation. I saw Todd’s shirt too, and while my first thought was he dressed himself in the dark, I wasn’t really surprised. Adi is quirky so of course her closest friend would be too.

  “The shirts are for a reason. The practice on his accents, however? I swear Todd does shit like that just to embarrass me. But enough about him. I know Donna is one of your favorite authors. I was trying to introduce you to help you with the whole super fangirl issue you have. She’s just a person, like me.”

  Kate whips her head to look at Adi and I can’t help but laugh at the look on her face. Horrified and maybe a little confused, she gasps. “She is not just a person. Donna Moreno is the epitome of kickass. She’s crazy talented, runs what is going to be an empire, mark my words, and she has hair that any woman would kill for.”

  I kind of love Kate. So much so I can’t let this go on much longer. As much as I want to have an empire, I’m just a woman who tells stories for a living.

  “I can hear you, ya know,” I say, standing from my spot on the bench.

  Adi snorts and Kate gasps as I approach them.

  “How long were you sitting there?” Adi asks, clearly amused. Kate on the other hand looks mortified.

  Lighting up my phone, I look at the time before saying, “Too long. What is it with these ride-shares? First it was six minutes then it jumped to seventeen. It’s been at least ten minutes since then and it still says seventeen.”

  I look up at the women before me, Adi is mid-yawn as she shrugs while Kate is staring at me, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. I really should say something wise or endearing to help her relax a little. Instead, I’m going to enjoy being on a pedestal for a little longer. We all need an ego boost now and then.

  “Did you have fun, Kate? I hope you were able to meet a lot of the other authors.”

  “I . . . uh—”

  A car pulls up in front of us and I look to my left hoping it’s a silver SUV with a driver named, Sal. It isn’t. Turning my attention back to Kate and Adi, I open my mouth to ask if they want to share a car when I hear a group of women begin mumbling and one shriek. Goodness that was loud. Standing on my toes, I look around to see what the craziness is about. I don’t see any models around but, I do hear the two words that set my heart racing immediately.

  Hawk. Weaver.

  Whipping my head around to where the women stand, I barely hear Kate screech and Adi laugh when my hair whops her in the face. Did they say Hawk Weaver is here? Hawk fucking Weaver is here.

  “Adeline Snow! Hawk Weaver is here?” I cock an eyebrow at her, which makes her look around the area, avoiding my gaze.

  “Wha—”

  “Don
’t ‘what’ me. Those women just said his name, and I think I heard one of their panties self-destruct. Where is he? I cannot believe you didn’t tell me he was here.” I stomp, yes actually stomp my foot like a petulant child, but this is important business. “You know I want to beg him to do my next book. I need him, Adi.”

  “I—”

  Cutting her off, I wave my hand toward the SUV pulling up at the curb. “Of course my ride is here, sixteen minutes earlier than the app says. Ladies, please enjoy this ride-share on me. I’m going to find some ear candy.”

  Grabbing the handle of my suitcase, I toss my purse over my shoulder and hightail it back into the lobby to track down my man. Or narrator.

  Semantics.

  Twenty minutes of searching for a man you have no idea what he looks like is virtually impossible. Wrong. It’s not virtually anything. It is impossible. You’d think in a hotel filled with primarily women it would be easy to find the man whose voice is going to make my books more popular than they already are. It’s not.

  The first three men I approached looked at me like I had three heads when I asked if they were Hawk. Of course two didn’t speak English and the other, well he was English. I almost asked that guy for his number because, well, English.

  Nothing. There is no Hawk Weaver and now I’m missing my flight. Jumping on the app to pay the one hundred-dollar rescheduling fee before the flight starts boarding, I see there isn’t a seat available on my preferred airline for seven more hours. Sure, I could go to the airport and wait it out on standby or, I could try and convince the front desk to let me back into my room and let me sleep. Instead I’m sitting in the business center, my suitcase parked against the wall, and my current manuscript open. Taunting me.

  I’m not blocked per se but I’m not feeling the story. Each word feels forced at this point. I could open a folder with another one of my works in progress and see if one talks to me. At this point, I’m not hopeful. I could start another new project, I suppose. Wouldn’t my agent love that?