by Lila Felix
“Would you like to come down to the signing?” I wasn’t sure why I asked him. Maybe just because it’ll get his mind off of whatever had him distracted.
“Sure.” He answered me as he stood up. He kept looking around the room and then down at his phone.
“Expecting a big call?” I questioned with a deep curiosity.
“No.” He shook his head. “Just checking the time.”
I nodded, knowing he wasn’t telling the whole truth, and gathered up my items and headed toward the door. Today’s signing was different than the others. This one was just about me and only me. Sometimes being the only author at a book signing had its pros and cons. Pros, you were the only there. Cons, you were the only one there.
Brent remained silent as we rode the elevator and caught an Uber to the bookstore where Olivia was waiting for us. The line was already insane, and even I was shocked to see so many people there. I figured we’d have about fifty or so but there were a few hundred. The crowd cheered and clapped as I walked up to the doors. Brent was quick to open the door for me and guided me by the small of my back. The familiar shiver ran up my spine by his simple touch. The cheers grew as I made it to the table. Olivia’s smile was huge. From here I could see the dollar signs in her eyes. She wasn’t always about the bottom line but since the announcement of Brent’s and my marriage, she most certainly had a change of views.
“Are you ready?” She practically jumped up and down.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I took a deep breath and picked up one of the several pens she laid out for me. “Let’s do this.”
Brent took the seat slightly behind me. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to everything happening around him, but when readers spoke to him, he shook their hands and talked to them. He even posed for a few photos. I couldn’t understand why they wanted pictures with him, but when they asked he delivered.
My cheeks began to hurt from all the smiling. My hand cramped up from signing my name over and over. I didn’t mind listening to the stories from the readers on how much they loved my books. However, the gushing over the marriage of Brent and me was a bit different. They were asking about how my life turned from fictional to real life.
I didn’t realize how my life had turned into my character’s life.
“My girlfriend loves your books,” a larger man said as he stood in front of my table. Thankfully, the line was done. He was the last one.
“Thank you.” I tried not to sound too robotic. I took the book from Olivia’s hands and signed my name. “Should I make it out to her?”
“No, just signing it is good enough.”
It was a little strange request, but at this point, exhaustion was setting in, and I didn’t think much of it.
“Would you mind if I got a picture too?” he asked.
“Sure.” I stood up and moved over to the end of the table. Olivia took the phone as we positioned closer to each other. His hand was on my lower back, but it wasn’t uncomfortable until…
“Hey.” I stepped back, swatting his hand away. He touched my right butt cheek and gave it a squeeze.
Brent was on his feet in a flash and pulled me behind him. “Don’t touch my wife.”
“Dude, she’s a romance author.”
As that was some sort of explanation.
“Don’t touch my wife.” His voice was low and dangerous. I couldn’t lie in saying it turned me on a bit. Not just his voice, but no one had ever jumped to my rescue. Well, short of Brent when we were younger.
Before I knew what was happening, Brent securely had his arm wrapped around me and was escorting me out of the bookstore. We were walking down the block as he was on his phone tapping away. By the time we reached the corner there was an Uber waiting for us. He opened the door making sure I was safe inside and then got in on the other side. He gave the driver the address to the hotel and we were swooshed away without another word.
He kept his arm around me as we strolled quickly through the lobby, to the elevator, and up to our room. When he opened the door, he guided me to the couch and fixed me a drink of rum and Dr. Pepper.
“I’ll race you,” he said standing next to me in gym class.
“No thanks.” I mumbled, tugging at my t-shirt and shorts. I felt exposed.
“Hey, Rush, leave your little girl project and come play.” One of the boys called from the other side of the gym.
“You better go.” I stepped back from him, trying to hide my face.
“I’m cool. I’m not going anywhere.” He smiled down at me.
“Rush!” His friends yelled again.
Brent simply waved his hand and stayed by me. “Let’s shoot a bit.” He jogged over to the rack where all the balls were and brought back a soccer ball.
We kicked it around a bit, even though I knew others were looking. He kept his focus on me. I knew his friends were always causing issues for him because he hung out with me more often.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few of them heading our way. This wasn’t going to be good.
“Rush, come on, we need you for the team.”
“I’m good.” He nodded to them. “Viv and I are kicking it.”
“Why kick it with a fat chick?” They all laughed.
“I’d rather kick it with a beautiful, smart female, then a bunch of jerks like you.” He put his arms around me and moved me away from them.
“Your hands are shaking. Drink this slowly.” He placed the glass in my hands.
I took a small sip. “I had it handled.” I half admitted.
“No, you didn’t, but I’m glad I was there.”
“He was just being handsy.” I explained as if he wasn’t there standing next to me at the time.
“No, he was a jerk who needed to be put in his place. Especially touching someone else’s wife. There was no excuse. No one should be touched unwillingly. He crossed a line and he almost got laid out.”
I took a bigger drink this time. “I can handle myself.”
He took a seat next to me. “I have no doubt in my mind you can handle yourself, but I’m here now. It’s my job as your husband to be there for you as well.”
“I’ve been alone long enough to know I don’t need to rely on anyone else.” I admitted without even thinking about it. I downed the drink and got up to make another.
“You don’t have to be alone. I’m here now. In fact, you never had to be. I would have been right next to you the entire time if you needed me to be.”
Grateful my back was toward him because the tears burned the back of my eyes. He doesn’t know how alone I really am. “I don’t need anyone.” I tried to sound confident.
“Everyone needs someone, Viv.” He came up next to me because I quickly moved away.
“I don’t.” I repeated.
“You need someone more than anyone.”
“What?” I whipped around and glared at him. “What do you mean I need someone more than anyone?”
“You know exactly what I mean, but I’ll explain it to you since you don’t seem to get it.” He stood in front of me. “Your mother wasn’t there for you growing up – at all. I’m certain your father doesn’t even know your name. I was your only friend in school and most of your life. Now, you spend your life in a cabin in the middle of the woods where there’s no one and the one human contact you have is the less than two minute conversations you have with readers.”
My mouth dropped and then I closed it again. How could he possibly know all that?
“Am I wrong?” He crossed his arms and looked down at me with a full stare. “Tell me the truth.”
“You’re not wrong,” I whispered, hanging down my head. Why did I admit it? Because he wasn’t wrong. He was the only one who ever understood me and the only one I could count on.
“Viv, I know you’re unable to trust people easily and I’m okay with that. However, I’m your friend and always will be.” He hugged me.
I laid my head on his chest. I could always count on his hug
s to make me feel better. It was one of the things I loved about him.
“Promise me you’ll trust me to be there for you whenever you want me to be.”
I swallowed away the lump of emotions in my throat. “I promise.”
“Let’s go down and get something to eat.”
I didn’t object because I was hungry. He guided me by the small of my back again down to hotel restaurant. He found us a quiet table in the corner.
Since I already had some rum, I decided to get a glass of water and he did the same. We glanced over the menus and made small comments about the food and sides. After the server took our order, Brent asked me about college life.
“There’s not much to tell. I went to classes, worked at a small diner near campus, and graduated.”
“Sounds thrilling. Tell me about your classes.”
“I went for an English degree with a minor in creative writing.”
“You were always walking around with a notebook making up fairy tales.”
I smiled at the memories of being on his ranch, sitting under a tree. “I just make the fairy tales with more suspense now.”
He grinned. “They’re great stories.”
“Thank you.”
“What don’t you like about being an author?”
I paused. I’ve never been asked that question. There are cons of every job, but no one had asked me. “I guess the deadlines are the worst. Sometimes I can write all day long and clear into the late night. Other days, I’m banging my head against the wall to form one single sentence.”
“I can see the frustration. You can’t rush creativity.”
“Exactly.” I nod. “I think people forget about that particular part of writing books.”
“How so?”
“I adore my fans, but they want everything yesterday and the added stress can be difficult.”
“Makes sense. As one of your fans, I can understand the need for instant gratification.” He winked.
“I can be the same way when I read series books. I’m a book nerd too.” I joked back.
“What are some of your favorite books?”
Soon we’re launched into a long and in-depth conversation throughout dinner about books we loved, disliked, and everything in between. It was nice to have a simple conversation with a friend.
Chapter Eight
Brent
I WAS NAÏVE. There was a small part of me, tiny I’d hoped, that was excited about being the groupie, so to speak.
I got to sit behind her at her signings and people asked to take a picture with me.
With me.
As much as I could, I tried to sit quietly, as if the fact that I was behind V. Rush, watching her as she signed books and smiled at everyone wasn’t the biggest nerd moment in my life so far.
Well, being married to her wasn’t so bad either.
Falling asleep the other night with her in my arms wasn’t the worst thing ever.
What I didn’t think about was how all of this meeting the public and book touring was affecting her. I watched, night after night, as she tried and succeeded in leaving a signing only to come back to the hotel room, caffeinate, and then work until dawn, only to do it again. She wrote on the plane. She wrote on her phone in the car. She wrote in the hotel room.
She couldn’t even ride down to the lobby of the hotel without pulling out her phone and ticking away at her characters.
I admired her work ethic. She never gave up.
That was until I realized she was using it as a shield.
She hadn’t touched me again since the other night.
I’d tried to hold her hand and to initiate some contact, but she would put her hand in her pocket or turn away.
I felt like I was losing her all over again.
“Viv, let’s go see a movie.” I suggested one morning after breakfast, which she ate right next to her laptop.
“I don’t watch a lot of TV, Brent. Stephen King says good writers step away from the screen.”
Didn’t stop her the other night.
She never took her eyes from the screen or her fingertips from the keys.
“Then let’s go see the Queen Mary. It’s a haunted ship close by. It would be nice to take a break from the hotel and the bookstores.”
Not that I expected her to cater to my needs.
I was just the tagalong – for publicity’s sake.
“Brent, just go with Olivia or by yourself. I have to finish this manuscript.”
Leaning over the table, I put my chin on top of the laptop screen, forcing her to look at me.
“When’s it due?”
“March.”
“Like last March? It’s overdue?”
That surprised me with the amount of work she did non-stop.
“No, next March. I want to make sure I don’t fall behind.”
It. Was. April.
“Well, congratulations, you’re eleven months early on finishing the project. One trip to a boat won’t hurt you. You’ve got to live a little, Viv. Hey, that rhymed.”
She threw down her pen and nearly took out my chin shutting the laptop.
“Brent, this is my life. I write all day and all night. I stop for caffeine, the treadmill, and food. That’s it. I know you’re stuck in this hotel room with me, and I’m sorry you’re bored or whatever. I’m boring. Either go by yourself or get over it. This is my life.”
“You said that twice.”
I felt the stink eye she gave me down in my toes. “I was reiterating a point that you don’t seem to understand.”
“I understand it completely, Viv. What I don’t understand is how you write about people without actually laying an eye on people other than them worshipping you at the altar of the signing table. What are you afraid of?”
She squinted but it faded as quickly as it arrived. “I’m afraid of what they’ll say. I’m afraid of strangers’ comments. I’m afraid I won’t be able to handle the crowds. I’m afraid of you.”
Reaching across the table, I took her hand. “What did I used to tell you about other people?”
“That you would be my shield.” Her brown eyes looked down. I wished she would look at me like she used to.
“I’m still your shield, Viv. No one will hurt you again – ever.”
“Except you,” she whispered, thinking I didn’t hear.
“Not even me, darlin’, not even me.”
It took five minutes of complete silence for her to decide. “Fine. Let me get dressed. I’ll be out in ten minutes.”
“Deal.”
I’d come to know her routine.
The woman never wore anything but pajamas unless she was leaving the hotel room.
She had meetings on the computer with a casual shirt on – and pajama pants.
She met with her agent in pajamas.
She chatted on the phone with her editor in pajamas.
Pajamas must’ve been the work uniform of authors everywhere. Or just Vivian.
I didn’t mind it in the least. She looked beautiful in anything she wore. That part hadn’t changed.
What worried me were the things that had changed.
Her insecurities were out in the open now. It was as if she hid them in the folds of her weight. Or maybe she hid behind the weight. I didn’t know which.
What I did realize by watching her work day in and day out was that one day she was going to burn out – and hard.
And I didn’t want to watch as my wife went up in flames.
“THIS PLACE IS too beautiful to be haunted,” Vivian said, listening to the tour guide tell us all about the ghost sightings, including his own.
The think the kid was probably twenty-three at the oldest and he was flirting with my wife like she wasn’t…
She wasn’t wearing a ring.
Maybe he was confused.
“Well, that’s it, Ms. Rush. You’ve paid for the extended tour, so you are free to walk around the boat for the next hour. Have fun and happy haunting.”
Yet, he didn’t move.
Viv was in some kind of trance. She was making the same face as when she wrote stories in the middle of the night.
I stepped forward with my hand extended. “Thank you, Sam. My wife and I appreciate the thorough tour. We’ll be out within the hour.”
That’s right, buddy, my wife.
Tell that to your ghosts.
He hadn’t been gone a minute when Viv turned to me. “Was that necessary?”
I took her hand and led her to the room down the hallway that Sam claimed was the most haunted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let’s go see what we can find in here.”
“This is the honeymoon suite, Brent.”
I waggled my eyebrows. “Exactly.”
“Be serious. I could write a thousand books on this ship alone. The stories untold here are endless.”
“Don’t you ever think about anything else?” I asked, laying on the bed that we were told was the resting place for a ghost named Matilda. Sam told us when he came into this room there was a depression in the mattress, the size of a woman.
“Not really, no.”
“You know what Olivia told me the other day?”
“What?”
“That she thought all of this touring was giving you a new boost in your writing. She alluded to you maybe having some writer’s block before you left.”
Vivian gasped. “I can’t believe she said that. It was just a little break. I was taking a break from everything.”
I turned my head to chuckle at her. She said things twice when she was upset or when she’d been caught.
“But she was right. You’ve been writing non-stop since you started touring. That’s got to count for something, right?”
“I guess. I really need to refresh her memory about our non-disclosure agreement. She shouldn’t be talking to…”
“To your husband?”
Viv was facing away from me, but I could see enough of her face to know that her left cheek had lifted a bit. “Yeah, my husband. You know what’s funny? Having you for the rest of my life was the only anchor to Billings that I could think of when I tried to weigh the pros and cons of getting out of there. You were the only pro. And now here we are, living that silly girl’s dream.”