by Harper Logan
“What the hell?” said Sergio. Then, into the phone, “No, no, not you, sorry, there’s some weird guy here. Yeah. Pages in the mail by Friday. Definitely. Talk soon.”
He slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
He was really close to Cam now. Looking down into his eyes, glowering, looking ready to punch.
Cam’s fingers nervously crept back to the buttons of his cardigan. “I’m here about that review you wrote of Madeleine Stevens.”
Sergio shook his head. “What about it? What’s with the foot in the door routine?”
“The review was unfair. Madeleine has had a long and storied career, and—”
“Guy, look. No idea who you are. But get out of my office. The review speaks for itself, and I don’t have time to talk about it today.”
“My name is Cam. I’m Madeleine’s assistant.”
Sergio suddenly froze. “Oh. I see.” He thought for a moment, and it looked like he was sizing Cam up. “So rather than do her own dirty work, she sent you. You don’t look like the psycho everybody talks about.”
Psycho? Cam had his problems, sure, but that seemed a little extreme. Also…who was talking about him? More nervous than ever, but still determined to press on, he said, “You two are in the panel next week. I’d like you to say something nice about Madeleine there. Walk back the review. Express some second thoughts.”
“Second thoughts?”
“Yeah.”
“Or…what? You’ll slash my tires? Kidnap my family?”
“What?”
“I know all about you, bro. Your reputation precedes you. Madeleine is a tired hack, but it doesn’t matter, because if anybody speaks up about her, you’re there to knock them back down. Is that how it works?”
“I don’t think you understand.”
Sergio took one step closer. They were practically touching now. Cam held his breath. He could feel the heat radiating off the angry author. “No, dude, I don’t think you understand. You’ve finally met your match. I’m not afraid of you, and I’m certainly not afraid of the withered witch you work for. Do your fucking worst. Try it. I will break you in half.”
Cam took a step back. This was not going as planned. The strange thing was, as angry as Sergio looked, his voice had quavered at that threat. “I’m just asking you to think about the community here. About cultivating goodwill. The review was harsh, but you can still take it back. You—”
Sergio’s hands were on his chest before he realized what was happening. He didn’t shove Cam, exactly, but pushed hard enough that Cam had to step back again, now putting him outside the door.
“Fuck you, man.” Sergio pointed a finger directly into Cam’s face. “You can’t touch me. Madeleine’s time is over. I am ten times the writer she ever was. She knows it, too. Ask her. She sent you over here because I’m a threat? Then you better damn well feel threatened. I will tear her apart on that panel. Why don’t you go to tell your mummified boss that? And I promise you this: If I find one belonging of mine destroyed, or stolen, or tampered with in any way, I will hunt you down.”
The door closed with a resounding smack that echoed down the long and lonely hall.
Cam stood there with his mouth open, staring at the door.
This was going to be hard to explain to Madeleine.
4
Serge
“He was staring at your business?”said Tish.
“Yeah,” said Serge. “It was awkward, especially once I realized who he was. I didn’t know whether he was admiring the goods, or thinking about giving them to Maddy Stevens in a little velvet box.”
“Ew. Don’t go there. Especially not in front of customers.”
Tish went back to her pyramid of oranges, polishing them so they looked healthy and shiny and ready to be juiced.
She and Serge had been best friends since high school, and she’d been one of his main motivations for coming up to Rosebridge and taking the residency, because he’d missed her when she moved away. She’d put her double major in visual arts and business to good use, opening O Jus!, a sunny, happy juice bar in the middle of town. Even though she was always busy these days, she was still the one person Serge could be honest with, the one person he could talk to, who didn’t care anything about his reputation.
“Do you need protection?” she said.
“What, like a gun?”
“You’re not living in your little novel, you know.” She put her orange-polishing towel away, took down the bright yellow cutting board, and began to slice away at some of the uglier oranges. “No, I’m not talking about a gun. If this guy is threatening you, you need to go to the police. And hire a bodyguard.”
“I don’t know if it’s that serious.”
“You said he’s got a reputation as a psycho.”
“So Sam says. But my agent is…colorful. Maybe this Cam guy is perfectly sane.”
“Coming after you for writing a review? And then staring at your crotch the whole time? Honestly, Serge, it sounds sketchy to me. I’d call the police.”
“It wasn’t the whole time.” He watched her cut up the oranges and drop them into the big juicer behind the counter. “I guess I picked the wrong time to do the review. Now instead of writing, I’m sitting here worrying.”
“Standing.”
“What?”
“You’re not sitting. You’re standing.”
“Fine.”
“Also, don’t do the thing.”
“Which thing?”
“Blaming crotch guy for why you’re not writing. You know I don’t like that.”
“But I was just sitting down to bang out some words when he came knocking.”
“Yeah, and then you came here to talk, and next you’ll do something else, and then something else, and nothing will ever get written. Come on, Serge.”
“Ugh. I’m so blocked, Tish. I can’t stand it. This new book is just taunting me all the time.”
She offered him a brief sympathetic look. That sympathy had lasted a lot longer back a few months ago when he’d first found himself blocked…but as time went on, the sympathy had gotten briefer and briefer.
“Do you need me to give you a speech?” she asked. “You accepted the publisher’s money. This is a job.”
“It’s art—”
“No, let’s not do that discussion again, okay? When you signed a two-book deal, you made it into a job.”
He groaned. “I don’t want a job, Tish.”
“Are you kidding?” She waved her arms around, taking the entire store in with her gesture. “This is my job, and I love it! It’s my dream! I get here way too early and I leave way too late, and it’s hard, and when the end of the month comes I’m terrified the bills will be more than I can pay, but it’s thrilling, man. That’s the attitude you need to take to this book. Have all the emotions you want, but work.”
“I know, I know.”
“You go strutting around campus like a stupid peacock, hoping everyone recognizes you. But you’ve got to earn the arrogance, my friend.”
“This conversation is helping so much less than I thought it would. Besides, none of it matters. I can’t write if I’ve got to worry about Madeleine making some kind of move against me.”
“I think the Women’s Fiction mafia is slightly less powerful than you’re worrying about. But I keep coming back to the same point: If you’re in physical danger, you’ve got to tell someone. If you’re not, then get back to work.”
“But what if she pulls something at this panel?”
“What’s she going to pull? Whoopie cushion? Steal some nude photos off your phone?”
“I guess I’ll delete all the naked bathroom mirror selfies.”
“Gross, stop, it was just a figure of speech.”
“I just wish I knew whether I needed to really worry about this or not.”
“The irony is, you go to all the effort at the gym to become Big Strong Sex-Man, and here are you fretting l
ike a schoolgirl. Maybe you need an even bigger, stronger sex-man to protect you. Or at least take your mind off things.”
“Hush!” he said, looking all around to see if anyone had heard her. Fortunately, the customers were all at the little tables, enjoying their juices and smoothies.
“Oh, tell me that didn’t hit a nerve,” she said. “You so clearly need a date. How long has it been?”
“I don’t need a date with a guy,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “Not this again.”
“No. Not this again, because I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine, then why are we talking about it?”
“Because you brought it up!”
“Dude, it’s not my fault you’re so tense.”
“It kind of is!”
She peered at him. “Huh. So here’s an idea. Why don’t you ask psycho guy out?”
“Well, for one thing, I’m not—”
“No, no, hear me out. Not like a date. At least, not from your perspective. Because, as we all know, Sergio Faletti is 100% completely straight, a zero on the Kinsey scale, and has never had any dalliances with men back in college that left him sobbing and confused on my doorstep.”
“Oh my god, will you stop?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. He didn’t like to be reminded of those days.
It had been a rough time for him. Lots of people experimented in college. There was nothing wrong with that. And he’d even gotten in pretty deep with a couple of guys, things that started to look like real relationships before he shut them down. It was hard to explain to a guy that you weren’t gay or bi or whatever, right after he sucked you off. So the past couple of years, especially after his book started making him money, he’d just turned that part of himself off. No more guys. That simple. It was especially important now. He was known for a book where a womanizing detective fights his way through hordes of women. He couldn’t have the public thinking he was into guys. It’d ruin everything.
“He was staring at your gross pelvis,” Tish said, bringing him back to the conversation.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Maybe he likes you a little. So, you know, invite him out. See what he has planned. Maybe soothe his fears a little. You know? You don’t have to retract what you said about Madeleine, but you can be all nicey-nice, and then he won’t plan to drop a thousand frogs on you during the panel.”
“So pretend to be…to be gay…to figure out his plot?”
“Fine, fine. Pretend to be a businessman talking about business. No kissy-kissy involved. Think about it this way, it’ll be a great break from not writing.”
He scratched his chin. “The idea does have merit.”
“See? Who solves all your life problems for you? Your good friend Tish, that’s who. And how can you repay me? By going to write that fucking book so I can stop hearing about how blocked you are.”
5
Cam
Cam couldn’t go right back to work. No way he could face Madeleine after that humiliation. It was bad enough being threatened by Sergio. His words had been like big meaty fists; Madeleine’s would be like razor wire.
Sometimes, when he was in a really bad mood, he would go to the animal shelter to cheer himself up. Puppies and kittens reminded him there was still good in the world. They didn’t make unreasonable demands, the way people did. They just needed love, attention, and treats. He wished human life was that simple.
He walked to the shelter now, and soon found himself looking into the windows at the kittens and older cats. The kittens were playing, fighting, climbing the bars of their cages, while the older cats sunned themselves on the perches next to the windows.
The kittens tried to be vicious to one another, but with their tiny claws and tiny mouths, how much damage could they do? An orange tabby and a solid white were locked in a duel, a ball of rolling fur, the colors reminding him of the ice cream pops he used to get as a kid.
He wished the world were more like that. Play fighting, where nobody got hurt. Eventually he’d have to talk to Madeleine, and face her wrath. Or, worse, lie to her and say that he’d successfully delivered the message that Sergio must back down. And then she’d probably find out he was lying once she met Sergio at the panel. He felt boxed in, caged, with no options.
Not for the first time, he wished he’d made some friends here in Rosebridge. It was hard. Madeleine kept him so busy. He’d met a few people, of course, but nobody had really clicked.
Honestly, he was lonely.
It seemed a small price to pay to live his dream, working for his idol. But times like this he really wanted someone to talk to.
“You don’t know what that’s like,” he said to the little white kitten, who had finally disentangled itself from its orange sibling. “You’ve got a whole lot of people to talk to, all the time.”
“Mew?” asked the kitten.
“Well, I mean, you’ve got your brothers and sisters in there, plus lots of visitors.”
“Meep,” the kitten pointed out, putting its paw through the cage and tapping against one of the buttons on Cam’s cardigan. Its little back feet struggled to push it up higher, as though it wanted to climb through the cage and into his arms.
“Oh, don’t you worry. Somebody’s going to adopt you, no problem. You’re so pretty and perfect. Well, almost,” he said, noticing a tiny spot of gray on the back of the kitten’s ear.
Then his phone rang. Madeleine’s ringtone. “Sorry, kitten, I’ve got to take this.”
“Mew.”
“Darling,” said Madeleine into his ear, “I didn’t hear from you. I began to worry that the monster had eaten you.”
“No, I’m okay.”
“Tell me everything. Is he as disgusting as we thought? Did he back down from his slander?”
The kitten batted the button of his cardigan again, and he used his finger to push the paw aside.
“He’s not what I expected,” said Cam. He waved good-bye to the kitten and walked outside. “He’s my age. Twice my size, though. Like, muscular. Huge.”
“Oh, one of those.”
“I’m…I’m not sure I got through to him.” He swallowed. “I couldn’t seem to make the point that he had to back down.”
She was silent on the line.
“He threatened me,” Cam said. “At least, I think he did. A vague threat.”
More silence.
“So I left.”
When she finally spoke, it was with a quiet voice. “Cam, I trusted you. This was important to me. I thought it was important to you as well.” He heard the click of her lighter in the background, then her sharp inhalation.
“I can’t force somebody not to criticize you, Madeleine.”
“Hm. Angela would have known what to do.”
“Yes, I know. Angela would have planted drugs in his desk and had him arrested or something. You’ve talked about her strategies many times.”
“You could learn a thing or two from her.”
“I’m sorry I failed you, Madeleine.” If the humiliation of getting caught staring at Sergio’s crotch had been bad, this was worse. It felt so unfair! He shouldn’t have to apologize. Madeleine knew he wasn’t crazy like Angela. He thought about what Sergio had said. You don’t look like the psycho everybody talks about.
Was he supposed to be? How had he even gotten that reputation? Or did everyone assume that just because Angela was crazy, he was too?
He glanced back at the shelter, again envying the kittens. Such an easy life.
“Well, come back to the house,” she said to him finally. “We’ll figure out what to do next.”
His heart sank. He didn’t want there to be a next.
6
Cam
“I wish I had gone instead,” said Madeleine. She had set her cigarette down long enough to butter a roll. She had the strangest diet Cam had ever seen. Nothing but nicotine and white flour. “I could have set him straight.”
Cam had returned
to his desk near the window, and was opening her fan mail.
“I don’t know,” he said. “He’s awfully cocky.” He winced at his choice of words.
“I’ve crushed greater men than him. You weren’t around during my feud with Barker Wells. That man never wrote another word after I was done with him.”
He thought again about Sergio’s size. He really wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side in a physical fight with him. And a physical fight seemed to be exactly what was going to happen, if Madeleine pulled anything.
No, that was stupid. Nobody fought anymore. This wasn’t the 60s, when novelists would get drunk and start throwing punches on daytime talk shows. Still, Sergio scared him.
And that made him mad. What right did Sergio have to come in and disrupt their lives with that stupid review, and then make threats? He was nothing but trouble!
Just then his phone rang. He glanced down at it, and froze. The caller ID said “Faletti, Sergio.”
“It’s him,” he whispered, as though Sergio might hear him.
Madeleine set her roll down and marched to the desk. She glared down at the phone as though it were a bug in her nice clean house. “I suppose you have a second chance,” she said. “Tell him in no uncertain terms that his career will come to an end, unless he makes amends. The review cannot stand, Cam. He can’t retract it, but he can atone for it.”
He put the phone on speaker and said hello.
“Is this Cam?”
“Hello, Mr. Faletti. How did you get my number?”
“My agent knows Madeleine’s agent. Not important. Listen, Cam, I might need to apologize to you.”
Cam’s brow furrowed. “Really?”
“I was startled earlier. You know how it is, you’re in the zone writing—well, maybe you don’t know. But I wasn’t at my best when I spoke to you. I may have been harsh.”
Glancing at Madeleine for support, he said, “This is a small town, Mr. Faletti. Reputation is important. It’s not me you need to apologize to, it’s—”