Corsets and Quartets

by DeSimone, Mercy

  "I'm just jumping into the ladies’ room, and then we can head out," I promise as he stands with me.

  "I'll grab the car and pull around in front," he offers. "Let me walk you out, Emma."

  As I lean in for a hug, she whispers, "Hold on with both hands. This one's a keeper."

  I'm beginning to agree.

  * * *

  Pulling up in front of my building, I feel a brief sense of déjà vu, turning my head toward him as he reaches across to unlock my seatbelt. This time, I'm aware of the lips reaching hungrily for mine, the hand that grips my neck to pull me closer.

  "So, you said your heroine didn't get laid today? What was she waiting for?" His breath fans sweetly across my face as he smiles into my eyes.

  "I'm not certain who she's meant to be with yet. She has three suitors vying for her attention."

  "Wouldn't Emma say she shouldn't have to choose?" Heath teases.

  "Harems are for harlots. Lady Sydney is particular with her attentions."

  "As she should be. Well, for what it's worth, I vote on her focusing on the one right in front of her." His steady look is intent.

  Holding his stare, I nod slowly. "I'll be certain to give her your advice. I'm sure she'll take it to heart."

  Pulling back, he opens his door, rounding the front of the car to open my door and pull me to my feet. Snuggling against his chest, I marvel at how perfectly my head tucks under his chin, making me feel small in comparison.

  "Get some sleep." Knuckles rub gently across my cheek before Heath's lips claim my own again in a final long, drugging kiss. "Let me know what your Lady Sydney decides. I feel somewhat invested in her story now."

  The night air feels cool against my skin at the loss of his warmth as, backing away, he slips around the car and gives a final wave before slamming the door.

  I realize my heart might be banking on that investment as I slip through my front door, exhaustion finally calling me to bed.

  * * *

  Damn, it hasn't magically disappeared.

  I stare at the eyesore of the Hello Pussy displays and resign myself to living with them until Christmas. It doesn't make much sense to break down the displays now, just to reset the floor all over again in another month.

  This is where it becomes necessary to engage the dispassionate part of your brain that can selectively turn a blind eye to the elephant in the room. Hello Pussy will forever be a symbol of my failure. If I hadn't hated it on sight, it would certainly be dead to me now. Luckily, I had already decided we weren't going to be friends from the start. My mission is clear. I must rid my world—okay, the store—of Hello Pussy as quickly as possible.

  Casting another suspicious look at the display of mocking kitty ears and whiskers, I head back to the office to find my PIC.

  "Hey, I was worried about you." Spreadsheets cover the top of the desk as Nate sits surrounded by merchandise, price gun in hand.

  "Can't they do that on the floor? Why are you doing the pricing?" I ignore his concern and hang my purse on the back of the door, moving a stack of plates that have taken residence on my office chair.

  "In case you've forgotten, we're down a person. You fired Kenzie, remember?"

  Shit. I did—forget, I mean. I clearly remember firing her, but in my rage, I might have ignored the staffing issues that caused.

  "Crap. Although, considering how often she called out, she barely counted as a body." I sigh softly.

  "I guess we do need to look for a replacement. Oh well, we were going to have to start hiring seasonal help anyway in a few weeks, we'll just start that much sooner. Do we have anyone we want back from last year? Maybe they could start now. Manda is usually ready to jump in as soon as we can give her hours."

  "I hadn't thought about that." Handing me the pricing gun, Nate starts rifling through the personnel files in the desk drawer.

  "Take over for a while. I'm getting carpal tunnel from that thing, and Josh gets unhappy when my grip is off."

  "Jesus, Nate, TMI!" I whine. I know he likes to tell me how satisfying his sex life is with Josh, mostly as a counterpoint to illustrate my lack of one. But honestly, I don't want all the salacious details of their wild monkey sex.

  "Oh, you're just jealous, Josie. Jesus, let me get you a rent boy for a few hours. You need to release some of that steam you've got bottled up inside, or your Hello Pussy is going to dry up like a raisin."

  "Very funny. Ha. Ha. Moving on. Did Patsy say anything during lunch about how she wanted us to transition the displays moving forward? I'm assuming we're keeping everything we have for now and not breaking it down just to set it up again?"

  Divide and conquer, that's what we do best. It's why Nate is such a great co-manager. I may have seniority, but he's not afraid to step up and take control where he's stronger, like with the visual displays. And if I have to listen to all the details of his love life along the way, it's a small price to pay. If anything, I prefer listening to all the gory details rather than the angst generated when he's not in a relationship. The fallout from his last relationship, before he met Josh a few years ago, was practically apocalyptic.

  "So." The unusual hesitation in Nate's voice pulls me from where I'm immersed in my own spreadsheet, calculating payroll.

  "So…?"

  "Have you thought about what you promised Patsy?" His sympathy is touching. "Do you have any idea how you're even going to get close to Mark Isaacss, let alone convince him to do a culinary night? I'm sure even Patsy knows she can't hold you to such a rash promise."

  "Oh, that." I wave it off, refocusing on my task. "It's a done deal, he already agreed."

  "What?! How did you manage that already? I thought we were going to have to go through some long six-degrees-of-separation roll call to even get close to him. What did you do? Walk up and threaten him at gunpoint?"

  "Oh, ye of little faith, Nate. Of course not! I used chloroform and gagged him with his apron before threatening him with a chef's knife. Duh!"

  "Come on, how did you get to talk to him? Did you do it in person? Oh! Did you get your friend involved? Was he nice about it? Did you have to throw yourself at his mercy? More importantly, is he as cute in person as he looks in his press photos?"

  "He's definitely good looking. I actually think he's better looking in person. The press photos make him look younger, so they must be old. He's got a rougher, sexier edge in real life."

  "What did you have to do to convince him? This seems like small potatoes, considering he just got nominated for a James Beard award."

  "Yeah, Emma mentioned that. Oddly enough, he didn't."

  "Well, that would sound kind of narcissistic wouldn't it? No matter how prestigious, telling someone you barely know 'hey, I'm an even bigger deal now' makes you an asshole." Nate smiles. "Not that I wouldn't shout it from the rooftops if it was me."

  "Well, sure. I just think it's odd that after a couple hours of chatting, something that important didn't slip in somewhere. Don't you think that's strange?"

  Considering how oddly Nate was looking at me, he must agree.

  "Josie, just how long were you chatting with Mark Isaacss? Because if you're having hours of casual conversation with a culinary god, then I'm seriously out of the loop."

  "We had dinner at Lulu's. I was there with Heath, then he got called away and left me with Mark. We had dinner, played two truths and a lie, and I won. That was my prize—him doing the class. Although, he was a bit salty about losing." I laugh. "He implied he's not comfortable speaking in front of crowds. I assured him everyone will be so busy looking at his pretty face that they won't even notice."

  "Wow. Thats… Wow. But who's Heath?"

  "The guy I met on ESoulmate. Remember, we were supposed to go on a date a while ago, and I kept cancelling? He finally lured me out with the promise of brunch at Lulu's. What can I say? He caught me at a weak moment and offered bacon."

  "Okay, hold on. I thought your online guy was named Cliff."

  "Well it is. Technically, h
is name is Heathcliff and most people call him Cliff. But when I met him, he just seemed like a Heath, so I went with it. He doesn't seem to mind."

  "I thought you said he took you to dinner?" Now Nate looks completely confused.

  "Will you please catch up, Nate? How did you miss all this? He took me to brunch last Sunday, and we ate at the chef's table, which is when I first met Mark and we chatted for a while. Then after the walkthrough debacle, Heath took me back for dinner to cheer me up. That's when he left me to hang out with Mark for the night until he came back." Frowning slightly, I add, "Didn't I mention that they were friends?"

  "No, you most certainly did not, and where was I this whole time? It's not like you to hold back all the juicy bits, you Jezebel. So, you won two truths and a lie, and he agreed to do an event for you?"

  At my nod, Nate looks gleeful.

  "That's fucking brilliant. He's into you, isn't he? What else is he expecting as payment?"

  "Oh, stop!" From the sudden heat in my cheeks, I know I'm blushing. "He's Heath's friend, so even if he did think he was attracted to me—which he's not, not really—I wouldn't do anything about it."

  "Girl, I think you need to reconsider your priorities. Unless this Heath is hung like a dinosaur, I vote to rock the culinary god's world."

  "Stop it. I like Heath. A lot. He's charming, funny, and down to earth. Even Emma likes him, and you know that doesn't happen often! But I have to admit, Mark is pretty to look at."

  "Maybe he likes to swing both ways. Introduce us so I can find out," Nate teases. At my withering look, he adds, "Oooo, for someone who's not interested, that was a pretty vicious look you just gave me. Like you wanted to cut a bitch. You better put your game face on. Or better yet, maybe you can follow Emma's plan and start a harem."

  "Knock it off, or I'm telling Josh. How many times do I have to say it? Harems are for harlots. Case closed."

  * * *

  Her heart beat like the wings of a butterfly, the delicate flutter unnerving as she stared in wonder at Lord Cedric. In all the years that he watched her suffer at the hands of her husband, never had she imagined that he held her in this regard. That she could ever be the object of such passionate declarations…

  Annoyed by the sound of Emma's ringtone, I try to catch the thread again.

  …such passionate declarations of admiration and…

  The sound echoes again. Damnit, I thought I turned the ringer off. It's hard enough to get in the zone, and now, it's gone. Passionate declarations…Lord Cedric… Nope. Gone. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to envision them in my head…Emma’s ringtone breaks my concentration a third time.

  Crossing the room, I snatch my phone from the side table, thumbing it on and complaining before she can even say hello.

  "Damn, Emma, I was deep in a chapter and you just killed my flow!" I bitch.

  "Josie! You will never believe what I just pulled off!" Emma squeals.

  "Flow, Em. My chapter is dead now, and I don't know how to get it back."

  "Shut up and listen to me!" Emma shouts over me, finally breaking through my disgruntlement.

  "What? Please don't tell me it's about some hot guy on Instagram again."

  "Josie, I'm serious, you need to shut up for a minute. This is big!"

  "Okay, okay, what?"

  "You're going to QuillCon!" Her voice radiates through the phone in such a way that I can feel her practically vibrating in excitement.

  "I know that, Em. I told you I bought my ticket months ago. You were the one who needs a ticket remember?" I state impatiently.

  "No. I mean yes. Which is why you are going as an author now!"

  "What the hell are you talking about? I can't go as an author. I've barely sold any books. I'm sure there's rules about these things. Anyway, I think you need to be invited."

  "Not for this one. It's open to any authors, established or new—and now, you."

  Speechless. There's no other word for my inability to process what she's trying to tell me. Horror, fear, excitement, fear, awe, fear—each one twisting and taking precedence, like a kaleidoscope falling into a new pattern with each breath.

  Head spinning, I count to ten before asking calmly, "Em, why don't you start at the beginning? I thought you were trying to get a ticket as a reader, emphasis on reader, so that you could go with me."

  "I was, but you were right, everyone I spoke to just kept telling me they were sold out. Finally, I decided to just call the organizers instead of the ticket agency. They said that all they had left were some last minute author tables that opened up because someone had to back out."

  "Does that really happen?" I can't imagine passing up the opportunity to attend Quill.

  "Apparently. So I asked them if my friend, who is an author, took one of the tables, if I could use her reader ticket. And they said yes! So, we're in."

  Stunned doesn't begin to cover the dismay coursing through my veins, and I need to sit before my knees collapse. Still, Emma rattles on.

  "We're going to have so much fun, and we'll get to be on the floor with the other authors. We won't have to stalk them for autographs, because we'll be rubbing elbows instead. It's going to be epic."

  "Emma." Her voice never wavers as she continues to list all the reasons this makes sense in her twisted world. "Emma. Emma!" At last, the desperation in my voice breaks through her rambling as she finally falls silent. "Are you out of your freaking mind? I can't go to a book con and pretend to be an author."

  "Why not? You are an author, and now it's time to start acting like one. This is just the exposure you need to jumpstart your sales. You already have one book published, and you can promote your new book while you're there. It's perfect."

  "Emma, I know that somehow this all makes sense in your head, but I'm not ready. I'm not even close. And how would I afford it? I'm sure the table alone is more than I have saved. Then there's banners and table runners. Not to mention books! I can't afford to print books and hope that they'll sell. I don't even have any swag to give away! No one will visit my table." At last, the biggest objection rears its ugly head. "I'll look like a fool, sitting at an empty table as all the readers walk right past me to talk to the real authors."

  "Josie." I can actually hear my heart pounding like a drumbeat in my head. "I would never allow you to look like a fool. I'm going to help you, I swear." I know she’s trying to reassure me, but it's just too hard to imagine.

  "You can do this. Don't you want to know what it's like? If nothing else, for one whole day, you'll get to roll with the goddesses. How can you resist?"

  Well. When you put it like that.

  Chapter 15

  Can You Keep a Secret?

  "Emma, guess what?" I can hardly contain myself. "Some of my readers are going to Quill!"

  The relief is palpable. Ever since Emma sprung the big news, we've done nothing but bicker. First, I tried to convince her it just wasn't feasible. That was pretty easy to refute when she had, in fact, secured a table.

  Then, I argued I wouldn't be able to take that day off. Nate proved that as a lie since he had already agreed to cover when I planned to attend as a reader. Crying poor backfired when I realized that Emma had already paid for the table. My refusal to attend would only result in her losing the money she put down. Sneaky bitch. She knew I'd never let that happen. Luckily, they gave her a deep discount since the organizers kept the first half of the deposit from the original author.

  It's hard to admit you've been backed into a corner. Having Nate continue the harassment at work was enough to get me to give in, albeit with less than good grace. Sometimes you have to enforce your boundaries, even when you've secretly become excited by the very thing you dread. Nope, not a masochist. I plead the fifth.

  "How do you know?" Emma's voice brings me back to the point at hand.

  "There was a thread in one of the romance groups online asking who was attending. I figured it was no secret now and that I might as well announce it. At least three of my readers said
they were going to be there and were excited to meet me. Of course, the big writers had dozens of comments, but still, someone will talk to me. Surely that means other people will too, right?"

  How did I become so needy in such a short amount of time? There's a reason Hemingway drank. I'm convinced it was the terror of judgment from readers that dissected and parsed his words and created impossible expectations. The thrill of recognition, and the condemnation of the masses. Love and hate, pleasure and pain, adoration and envy.

  Would he have been as successful in his writing today if his work had been subjected to the immediate judgment of online reviews? Ok, it's an absurd thought, but it helps me to believe that some of this is just luck of the draw.

  Did Jane Austen ever realize that she was Jane Austen? It's great to hope that your stories will live on for years to come, but I'd settle for some simple acknowledgement now that all my work isn't in vain.

  Speaking of which, it's time to make some decisions for Lady Sydney. I need to figure out if she's going to take a lover, and if so, which one? Every day that I spend time or chat with Heath, Lord Cedric takes on more of his characteristics. Is it a coincidence that I've taken Heath's greatest traits and made them something that Lady Sydney would admire? No. Do I want Heath to catch on that he's becoming immortalized in the guise of a Regency gentleman? Absolutely not. Although, as I'm beginning to know him better, I think it would tickle his bookish heart. In that, we are a perfect match. Even if his preferences lean more toward mysteries and autobiographies, he still has a healthy respect for the classics.

  "Josie, what were you planning to do with your reader's ticket?" Emma asks patiently.

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, what were you going to do with your day? Did you plan to go in, visit two or three authors whose books you've read, and leave?"

  "Don't be silly. That would be a waste of time and money. I want to see everything! I can't wait to explore and find new authors I haven't read, and get a peek at what other people are reading, and…"