Switch Stance

by M. E. Carter

  “Now?”

  “Yep. I promised you the Capitol and to show you the spot where no secrets are possible.”

  With a groan and what can only be considered a look to kill, Aggi rises from the bed, brushes her hair from her face, and walks into her room, grabbing her camera and purse from the bed before walking out the door to the hallway.

  Appearances. Got it.

  •••

  “This place is amazing. Beyond what I thought it would be.” The awe in her voice evident, I watch as Aggi clicks photo after photo of the building.

  We started the walking tour with a group but have fallen behind a little, with me offering my own commentary. When I was a kid, my dad never knew what to do with me after the third week of my summer arrival. One year, he registered me for a day camp and one of the field trips was to the Capitol. At first, I thought it would be boring like school. I was wrong. Of course, it was educational and boring from time to time, but the grandeur of the building and grounds stuck with me and I would ask my dad to bring me here even when there was no camp.

  “It is pretty awesome. But it should be. It’s caught on fire enough times that they keep having to renovate,” I chuckle as I watch her squat down and adjust her lens before rapid firing again.

  She pulls away from her camera to look up at me. “Seriously?”

  “Oh yeah. This isn’t even the original building. It’s the third one, I think. And we’re lucky to be standing here since there was some sort of electrical fire in the 80s.”

  She shakes her head and goes back to her task; she is talking about the impressive lines and arches.

  “I had no idea this building was taller than the Capitol in D.C. I’m sure some politicians were unhappy when that happened.”

  “You know what they say: Everything’s bigger in Texas. I suppose it seems fitting that the egos are as well.”

  Draping her camera around her neck, she walks toward me, so we can continue our exploration. “You’re a bit of a political nerd, aren’t you?”

  “Political? No. I probably hate politics more than social media, which is saying a lot. No, I’m more of a history nerd. And architecture interested me when I was a kid. I never expected skateboarding to be my career. I thought I’d pursue architecture as a career.”

  “That makes sense. This place is amazing, Spencer. Thank you for bringing me. The photos online don’t do it a bit of justice.”

  “I agree. But there’s more. I wanna show you something cool.”

  Taking Aggi’s hand, I walk her to the famous star. The spot under the dome where whispers can be heard in the outer passages.

  “Stand here.” Standing toe to toe, I take the camera from around Aggi’s neck and place it gently on the ground next to us before taking her hands in mine and leaning into her ear.

  “They say, if you whisper something at this spot, even the people in the outer passages can hear you. There are no secrets in this spot. Anything said can be heard by all.”

  A quick intake of breath as my whisper tickles her ear makes me smile.

  “Agnes Sylvester, I think you are the most beautiful and talented woman I’ve ever met. You have a kind heart and infectious laugh. I’m honored you’re willing to spend time with me, and I promise I will never let you regret it.”

  Placing a chaste kiss to her cheek, I lean back and see she’s closed her eyes and a small smile graces her lips.

  “Thank you,” she whispers before I lean down and kiss her, all while other visitors watch us, knowing an important declaration was just made.

  Chapter 21

  Aggi

  Next Stop: San Francisco

  Home of the Summer X Games, circa 1999 and 2000

  I have never had a boyfriend before.

  Not from lack of desire, but because I haven’t met anyone who tickles my fancy and I tickle theirs back. I know I’m a hard person to love. I’m not a terrible person or anything, but I’m a runner. My fight or flight reactions are strongly seated in the flight column and most men don’t seem to know what to do with that.

  Sure, I’ve had a few one-night stands. They were all with the same person, but that still counts. He was my lab partner in my college Chemistry I class and used to make jokes about us having chemistry. Come to think of it, he was kind of a douchebag, but I was curious about sex and he wasn’t terrible at it. Plus, the only time we saw each other was when we were studying so I didn’t freak out very often. It worked for me, but I still wouldn’t call it a relationship.

  And at one point, Todd and I got drunk and decided if we weren’t married by the time we were twenty-five, we’d marry each other. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

  Then that quarter-life age was upon us, we looked at each other like the idea of being intimate made us both nauseous and never spoke of it again.

  My experience with the opposite sex isn’t much. More like almost none.

  Maybe that’s why I’m enjoying this time with Spencer. It’s a whole new experience to have a man think I’m sexy and alluring. It’s flattering when he comes up behind me just to put his arms around my waist and kiss my neck. And it feels oddly natural that he used the shower while I was at the vanity putting all my makeup on before tonight’s signing.

  Sure, we have two bathrooms since his continued travel good luck scored us adjoining rooms just like Austin. But Spencer made a point of using the same bathroom I was, just so we could talk while getting ready.

  In a weird way, it kind of made me swoon. Plus, it kept me from getting distracted, which means we are right on time. For once.

  Stepping out of the car at the bookstore where the event is being held, I’m surprised by the cold that pierces my skin. The weather in San Francisco is so strange. When you’re in certain parts of the city, the sun feels warm. In other parts, there is a bone-chilling dampness in the air. And now that the sun is setting and the breeze off the ocean is stronger, it’s definitely cooler. It’s a good thing I wore my black leather pants, black leather jacket with a red tank top underneath, and a red bandana wrapped around my head. Not only am I playing the part of a pin-up girl loving author, the clothes hold my body heat in, while my red peep-toe heels give me a little bit of air conditioning on my feet.

  Gotta love women’s fashion.

  “Did I tell you how amazing you look in those pants?” Spencer whispers in my ear as we walk toward the front door, his hand on my lower back. I love the feel of it.

  Giggling, I smack him playfully on the chest. “Several times. Now hush. We have appearances to keep up.”

  He releases a resigned sigh and mutters, “Right. Appearances.”

  I know Spencer wants to come right out and let it be known that something is going on between us. Since we haven’t defined our relationship, or friendship or whatever, I prefer keeping it private. As giddy as I am by where this seems to be going, I don’t really think it’s fair for anyone else to figure it out before we do. I’ve let my guard down with this small part of me. I’m taking baby steps. That’s not unreasonable, right?

  I don’t have time to think much more about it when a man with shoulder length dark hair approaches us. His nametag says “Franklin,” I assume he’s an employee. At least I hope so. Otherwise it would be weird he’s wearing a nametag.

  “Good. You’re here. Right on time. Are you ready?”

  Somewhat taken aback by his directness, I stumble over my words. “Oh. Um. Yes. I guess so.”

  Franklin nods and turns to walk away. Spencer and I look at each other, shrug, and then hurry after the man, assuming we’re to follow him. Sure enough, in a back corner of the room, there is a table set up for Spencer and me, and dozens of chairs are already filled with people.

  When the audience sees us, the room erupts in cheers. Spencer raises his hand in a handsome and cool wave. I, on the other hand, curtsy which doesn’t have quite the same effect because I’m wearing pants. And also because I stumble trying to stand back up from crossing my legs while wearing heels. Thi
s is something I should know better than to do. But of course, I don’t.

  Once again, thank goodness for Spencer’s quick reaction time. Grabbing my elbow to steady me is much less embarrassing than faceplanting.

  Standing behind a podium and microphone, I wait until Franklin gives me the go-ahead and begin my normal speech. The one about being so happy to be here, Spencer being a great guy, books being good to read, blah, blah, blah. Having done this so many times over the last couple of weeks, I can genuinely say my nerves are far steadier than they used to be.

  Before I know it, it’s time for the Q&A portion of the event.

  Pointing to a reader who is exuding excitement, although I have yet to meet a reader who doesn’t, she stands up, her smile bright.

  “What made you decide to finally come out and let your readers know that Spencer is your muse?”

  My hearts either stops or speeds up, I’m not really sure which one. She doesn’t seem to notice, though.

  “I mean, I guess it wasn’t hard to figure out, ya know? The hair color, the eye color, the extreme sports. I feel like none of us are all that sharp since we didn’t figure out, ya know?”

  Laugher fills the room at her words, and I do my best to seem unaffected, but inside I’m a quivering mess.

  What is she talking about? I never told anyone except Greer about Spencer. Well, and when Donna figured it out—

  Wait.

  Donna figured it out.

  The Donna who has the same publisher as me and therefore the same publicist.

  Dammit. This can’t be happening.

  Refusing to look at Spencer, who I am sure now thinks I am the biggest stalker out there, I try my hardest to play off the humiliation I feel. I need to clarify what she’s talking about first.

  “I mean, who isn’t inspired when they watch Spencer Garrison skate. Am I right, ladies?” I smile and gesture to the man in question.

  Amid the applause, “amens,” and a few catcalls, I chance a look at him. He has the strangest look on his face. One that I don’t want to try and decipher right now. Not when I’m feeling such abject humiliation and confirmation that it’s best I don’t get close to many people.

  Still, it’s not this woman’s fault I’m having a breakdown in my head right now. I straighten my spine and push through a few more questions, all the while wanting to hide away and figure out what’s going on.

  “Okay, okay.” Franklin eventually holds his hands up as he stands in front of the crowd. “We’re gonna take a five-minute break before we start the signing part,” he drones. “Make sure you have your ticket ready. We’re going to line up in groups of twenty, so if you have one through twenty, line up. If you don’t, you have to wait.”

  Ducking for cover behind one of the bookshelves where no one can see me, I clutch my hand to my heart.

  This can’t be happening. Donna didn’t sell me out like that, did she? Why would she do such a thing?

  “Aggi?” My eyes fly open to see Spencer standing in front of me, concern written all over his face and body language. “Shit. Sorry, I mean Adi. Are you okay?”

  I nod once and reach my hand out. “Can I borrow your phone?” The words sound more like a whisper, and I’m surprised he can actually hear me.

  But he never hesitates when he pulls it out of his pocket and places it in my shaking hands. “Of course. Did you forget yours?”

  “It doesn’t have what I need. I need—I need internet.”

  Thankfully, Franklin rounds the corner. “So, uh, the people are getting in line to sign your books, or whatever.”

  Licking my dry lips, I nod at him. “I need to make a quick pit stop. Is there a restroom I can use?”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess.” He points toward the back. “There’s an employee area back there. When you go through the door it’s on your right.”

  “Thank you.”

  Darting my way out from between the men, careful to not accidently brush up against the man I’ve been sleeping with but suddenly want to run away from, I ignore both of their stares. I need to figure out what is being said first. And maybe fire someone.

  Oh, who am I kidding. I’d never fire someone. It’s one of the reasons I still send paperback copies of my books to a friend who used to help me make graphics years ago. She doesn’t do anything anymore and we haven’t even spoken in a year, but I’ve never technically fired her, so I don’t feel comfortable not paying her. It’s a wonder I haven’t been scammed into a pyramid scheme. I’m a prime target.

  Finding the restroom, I lock the door behind me and quickly open Spencer’s phone.

  “Come on, come on, come on,” I mutter as I clumsily find the internet app and figure out how to search for what I’m looking for. It takes a few minutes being that my fingers can’t seem to touch the right buttons before the article comes up. Written by my publicist and put out into the world this morning.

  New York Times Bestselling Author Adeline Snow is finally leveling with her fans as she reveals her highly secretive muse is none other than Spencer Garrison, the world-famous skateboarder she’s on tour with.

  I don’t have to read further to know it only gets worse from there. I’m sure she made up quotes I never said and facts that never happened. “Maximum impact” is what she calls it. “Humiliation” is what I call it. One of my deepest darkest secrets wasn’t hers to share. Hell, it wasn’t Donna’s to share and now it’s out there for anyone and everyone to see. I’m living my own personal nightmare and battling my instinct to run away. I need to be alone to think and wrap my brain around the situation.

  Leaning my head back against the door, I try to focus on my breathing as my thoughts swirl.

  Is this why Spencer is with me? Did he know I had a crush on him and was just humoring me?

  Does he think I’m a psycho now? Do all these people?

  And how the hell am I supposed to push through my block when the only thing I want to do right now is quit my job, head to a deserted island, and spend the remainder of my days hiding and talking to a volleyball instead of people?

  No. No, you’re stronger than this Aggi. And you have fans who need you to hold it together. They deserve to meet the author they love.

  Taking one last deep breath, I leave the safety of the unsterile and smelly room and walk out the door. Regardless of how I feel and how this changes everything I thought I knew, I still have a job to do and people to see.

  Putting on my game face, Adeline Snow comes out in full force, Aggi locked tightly away.

  Chapter 22

  Spencer

  Muse. Its not the first time someone has used that word in the time we’ve been together, but it’s the first time someone literally pointed my way and said I was that inspiration for Aggi. That one strange little word sent my girl into a tizzy.

  She tried to play it off like it didn’t affect her, like me putting it all together wasn’t making her heart race and her palms sweat. I saw the way her foot tapped behind the podium. I heard the quiver in her voice as she continued to smile and put her best Adeline Snow face forward. But, I also knew deep down she was plotting at least four different ways to run from me. From us. I just don’t quite understand why.

  I gave her the space she needed at the bookstore and assumed when we returned to our rooms, we’d climb into bed and I’d hold her while I told her none of it mattered. It’s actually flattering to know she thought of me before we met. That she’d used my career as a basis for some of her most beloved characters. To know that these strong, dynamic men, “Heroes” as the book world calls them, were based on me is an ego boost like I’ve never had.

  Instead, she asked for that space she’d mentioned before, walked into her room, and didn’t unlock the adjoining door again. After a fitful sleep, I rose before the sun and went down to the hotel gym for a workout. My knee hasn’t bothered me much on this tour but the damp air in San Francisco has brought on the ache I remember. Pushing myself more than I should, I’ll likely regret the run on the tre
admill later on the plane.

  As I approach my door, I contemplate knocking on Aggi’s door instead. I need to know she’s okay. To kiss her and hold her and make sure she knows nothing has changed. I like her, and she likes me. That’s all that matters right now. The rest is just publicity and bullshit her publicist, and probably Freddy, put out into the world to build more buzz.

  I don’t knock. I promised her I’d respect her need for space and I need to honor that. Instead, I slide my card in front of the lock to my door and am surprised when I walk in and Aggi is standing in my room.

  “Sweetheart.” The relief I feel in seeing her in my room evident in the way I whisper the nickname I prefer.

  “Sorry. I, I needed to get my makeup from your bathroom. I will be ready to leave in about thirty if that works for you.”

  “Honey, we have to talk about this.”

  “Spencer, I need to get ready. Thirty, okay?”

  Nodding, I watch as she walks through the door to her room and flinch when the door locks. She’s locking me out of the room. Out of her life. Or so she thinks. If she thinks I’m just going to walk away because she’s a little embarrassed, she has another thing coming. More than ever, I’m determined to win this woman’s heart.

  •••

  “Mr. Garrison, here are your tickets. I’m sorry for the confusion on the upgrade.”

  “No problem, things happen.” Handing the woman at the counter my credit card, I pause when I hear a gasp behind me.

  “You? You’re the one paying for the upgrades to first class?”

  For a split second I consider coming up with a bullshit excuse, like I’m using Freddy’s credit card. But after everything that has happened, with everything she’s feeling, I know now more than ever she needs me to be honest with her. “I am.”

  “Spencer.”

  “What? It’s no biggie. I need the leg room and you need the rest. First class seats are much more comfortable for naps.”

  “Stop!” Aggi shouts slamming her hand on the counter, startling the poor attendant. “Please don’t upgrade my ticket.”