Samir laughed. “So I can cancel my appointment?”
“Yes, of course.” Anthony patted Samir’s shoulder.
Samir put a hand on Anthony’s waist, and realized a second too late that the contact might make the moment even more awkward. He started to draw his hand back, but Anthony stopped him, and put his hand over top. They didn’t clasp their fingers together or anything, but there was that still, gentle contact—Samir’s hand on Anthony’s waist, Anthony’s hand over top. Just there.
“Let’s see how this weekend plays out.” Anthony’s thumb grazed the side of Samir’s. “One day at a time, and if we decide we like it, we can keep doing it. But it’s not like we’re strangers. Maybe I should’ve given you some warning before we met, but the guy you’ve been chatting with for the past couple of years? That’s me.”
“Likewise.” Samir lowered his gaze. “To tell you the truth, I’ve wanted to meet for a while. I almost asked a few times.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I’ve heard all these horror stories about people meeting their online friends, only to find they’re nothing like they are on the internet, and then the friendship falls apart. I guess I liked Ulfhedinn too much to risk that.” His fingers slid between Anthony’s and gently curled around his hand. “Feels kinda stupid in hindsight, because I was obviously very wrong.”
“To be honest, I might have blown you off.”
“What do you mean?”
“Same thing as you. I was afraid we’d disappoint each other if we met. And I enjoy being anonymous on the internet. Nobody asks Ulfhedinn when the damn eighth book is coming out, or asks me to retweet their petition for paper recycling in West Virginia or whatever.” Anthony lifted Samir’s hand off his hip, and hand in hand, they started walking again. “Once you’re visible like that, people just keep throwing their stuff at you, when all you want to do is geek out over things you’re passionate about. Telling them no makes you an asshole, saying yes to everything means you lose your whole life to the whims of people on the internet. If you respond to some but not to others, you’re playing favorites or are unreliable. If you champion social causes, you’re estranging everybody who’s against them. When I said something supportive of gay marriage, I got lots of angry letters about how I also have fans and readers who aren’t liberals and they’d start boycotting my books if I didn’t shut up and do the one thing authors are good for: write more books.”
“How do you cope with that?”
“I don’t. Chas burns those, and she also prefilters my email. She sends the ‘thanks for getting in touch, I’m glad you loved Triple Moon—my next appearance is at Con Whatever, maybe you can get your copy signed’ form emails.” Anthony sighed. “I used to love fan letters and emails, but there’s a point when they start taking away from your writing time and focus. In short, Ulfhedinn is my way to get to enjoy myself without all the crap that comes with expectations of a few hundred thousand people, most of whom are lovely. If anything, going from being able to respond to reader emails in person to having to outsource that to somebody else is the one thing I didn’t like about getting famous.” Anthony glanced at Samir. “Ulfhedinn’s me without the baggage.”
“Did anybody ever suspect who you were?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” He rubbed Samir’s hand with his thumb. “Did you ever catch on?”
“Not even once.”
“Well, I’m closer to you than anyone else online, so if I fooled you, mission accomplished.”
Samir chuckled. “You’re good at flying below the radar, that’s for sure.”
“It probably helps that I never put any writing online. I was too afraid readers would smell me on it and then I’d lose that piece of freedom. It helps that Ulfhedinn’s profile is really old too. With a few thousand comments or so under your belt, nobody suspects you of being an author sock puppet.”
“And all those details? I mean, I knew you lived somewhere in the area and you’re a Seahawks fan, and the books you’re reading? That’s real?”
“Yep. In terms of your multiverse concept, he’s me in an alternative reality where I never got famous. Maybe he’s got a bit less gray hair too.”
“I don’t know. I rather like the gray hair, personally.”
Anthony laughed, and as always, his cheeks burned. “Into older men, are you?”
“Not necessarily.” Samir squeezed Anthony’s hand. “To put it bluntly, I had a crush on Ulfhedinn.” His thumbnail traced the edge of Anthony’s palm. “And you.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“And yet you’re afraid we’re moving too fast because we don’t know each other?”
Samir chuckled. “Give me a little time to adjust my perception and figure out how to combine Anthony Rawson with Ulfhedinn in my head, and I’ll be fine.”
“That’d be a hell of a threesome.”
Samir burst out laughing. “You would go there.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t.”
“Guilty.”
“Thought so.”
They walked in silence, sand crushing quietly beneath their feet while the tide lapped at the shore and seagulls squawked overhead.
Eventually, Samir spoke. “So, what was it like? Getting that book deal and becoming, well, Anthony M. Rawson?”
“It was mind-boggling, I’ll tell you that.” Anthony took a deep breath. “I actually started selling about fifteen years ago, while I was still in the Army, but the royalties wouldn’t have fed a church mouse. Most of that stuff went out of print quickly. Triple Moon was different—looked like it was going to go the same way as everything else, but instead of leveling off and dying a quiet death like the others, it started to grow and people talked about it. All the books went into reprints and it just kept getting bigger. And then they optioned the film rights and the series went berserk. When Leanne called me one day warning me about the size of the next royalty check, I had that weird sense that it was finally happening, but I was totally numb. You never forget your first seven-figure check. Going from a bit of extra income to ‘holy crap I don’t have to worry anymore about a leaky roof’–type money ... it’s a shock. It’s not bad, don’t get me wrong. But it’s hard to comprehend.”
Samir shook his head. “It’s heart-stopping to even think about.”
“Oh, I know it is.” Anthony stopped, and when Samir faced him, Anthony gathered him in his arms. “It’s going to be a wild ride from here on out. There’s nothing I can say to change that. But you’re not in it alone.”
Samir smiled. “I know.” He drew Anthony down into a soft kiss, one that was perhaps too affectionate for two men who were supposed to be fuck buddies as well as friends. But he liked it, so he didn’t pull away.
Anthony broke the kiss after a long moment, and met Samir’s eyes. Then something behind Samir caught his attention, and Anthony scowled. “Damn. Looks like it’s going to rain soon. No fun hiking in that.”
Samir turned, and sure enough, the horizon was rapidly darkening.
“We could go back to the house. Maybe pop in a DVD?”
“That sounds like fun.” Samir grinned. “Well, and I seem to recall that Ulfhedinn is pretty convinced he kicks ass at first-person shooters. I’d like to see Anthony Rawson put his money where his mouth is.”
Anthony returned the grin. “Are you suggesting I lied about my video game prowess?”
Samir shrugged, narrowing his eyes a little. “I’m suggesting you think you’re that good.”
“Oh. It’s on ...”
Chapter 9
Though they’d stayed up until nearly one thirty playing various video games, they found themselves in front of the console again the next morning. Samir was still nervous about meeting with Leanne, so to keep his mind off it, Anthony suggested a rematch.
Two solid hours of blowing shit up, killing aliens and each other, and trying not to get themselves killed definitely helped—by the time they turned off the game, Samir see
med a hell of a lot more relaxed. Anthony supposed that was aided by the fact that Samir had soundly beaten the ever-loving fuck out of him. At least he wasn’t a dick about winning. Oh, he had a smug grin, and his singsonged suggestion of “best two out of three?” had made Anthony roll his eyes, but they both had a damned good time. And most importantly, Samir had chilled out. Mission accomplished.
Until Leanne arrived.
Then Samir’s nervousness ratcheted back up. The muscles in his neck and shoulders were suddenly tense, his spine ramrod straight. Even through the introductions and small talk, he was wound tight, like he was one comment away from needing to breathe into a paper bag.
As they sat down to dinner, though, Samir started to relax again. Good food had that effect on people—Nina, Anthony’s housekeeper, had been by earlier to make a warm salad with chicken and feta, with a second course of apple strudel, which were both excellent.
When Anthony brought in three cups of coffee, though, Leanne gave him a brief nod that telegraphed she was now ready for business, so he moved them all from the dinner table to the more comfortable chairs of the library. For a moment or two, Leanne studied the couple of shelves with the various editions of Triple Moon—arranged by format, then language, and finally edition.
After a while, she picked up her coffee and regarded Samir curiously. “So I read Axis Mundi.”
Anthony could hear Samir’s stomach hit the floor. Samir tugged at his tie, which Anthony had reassured him a dozen times over was knotted correctly and perfectly straight. Poor kid. Anthony was so tempted to put his hand on Samir’s, but that would only be blood in the water. Leanne needed to buy the book on its own merits rather than doing a favor to a client who slept with another author.
“So. Axis Mundi. Samir, it’s really, really good.” She sipped her coffee and set it down with a clink. “I barely slept, and when I did, I dreamed of how they fought over that portal and finally got through. I canceled my gym appointment and my massage to finish that book. I was useless in the office all day. People are going to go absolutely berserk over it.”
Samir gave a weak smile. “Can’t say I thought of much else while I wrote it. It was pretty intense for me.”
“I can tell. You weren’t phoning that one in.” She glanced at Anthony as if to reprimand him over an anthology submission two years ago. She’d never let that one go. “It’s the strongest debut I’ve seen in years. What else do you have?”
“Just short things.”
Anthony lifted a hand. “I’ve seen quite a bit more of his writing, and while it’s short fiction, it’s all really strong.”
“What short fiction? Can I read it?” She narrowed her eyes at Anthony. “And what have we discussed about reading unpublished work? Hmm?”
Anthony put up his hands. “I’ve only read his stuff, I swear.”
“Mm-hmm.” The upward flick of her eyebrow suggested this would be going into the “never hearing the end of it” vault along with that piece-of-shit anthology submission and the time he’d taken her to a restaurant that he swore was amazing but which made them both sick. Good thing she didn’t abide by a three-strikes rule.
She shifted her attention back to Samir, thank God. “About that short fiction?”
Samir squirmed in his chair. “Mostly fanfic.”
“Anything original?”
“Uh, well ...”
“You’ve obviously got the chops for it. Throw something at me that’s as solid as Axis Mundi but with your own world and characters, and I will knock down doors and make editors beg for it.”
Samir’s eyes widened.
“Let’s talk Axis Mundi.”
He gulped. “Okay.”
“Anthony’s editor is so in love with it, he’s threatening to leave his wife and girlfriend for it.”
Anthony laughed, but Samir sounded like he almost choked on his own breath.
“He’s ... he’s seen it?”
“Oh, of course he has. Honey, I wasn’t going to fly out here unless I knew he’d consider it.”
Samir lost some color. Anthony struggled not to take his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.
Especially when Leanne set her coffee down and gave Samir that look. The one that said, “We’re about to have A Serious Conversation and there will be unpleasantness.” Her eyes flicked toward Anthony, and his stomach flipped like it always did. God, he could only imagine what Samir’s heart was doing right then. The temptation to take his hand was almost irresistible.
“You’re coming into an established series. Anthony’s name is pretty much synonymous with Triple Moon, and conversely, Triple Moon is synonymous with Anthony’s name. You don’t have one without the other.”
Samir glanced at Anthony. Leanne. Anthony again.
Leanne folded her hands in her lap. “While the editor loves it, we might run into some issues with the marketing twats. They’re going to want Anthony’s name on this book.”
Anthony fidgeted. He’d been accused a few times of writing derivative work—strong words coming from people who loved the latest teenage-vampire reboot—and it was a touchy nerve for him. And hadn’t Samir asked right from the start if Anthony had planned on slapping his own name on the book? As if he’d ever dream of that. The last thing Anthony wanted to do was take credit for something another writer had done. Especially when there was no way in hell he could look anyone in the eye and claim he was the brains behind one word of that insanely awesome book.
Samir cleared his throat. “So, what do we do then? Just put both our names on it?”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Leanne said. “Even if Anthony has top billing and bigger font, I want your name on there too.”
“As long as he’s getting obvious credit and his name isn’t hidden,” Anthony said. “It’s his book.”
“I’d be fine with what she suggested.” Samir smiled shyly. “I’m not going to cry about being under Anthony M. Rawson.”
Thank fuck Anthony wasn’t taking a drink just then. He eyed Samir, trying to decide if the double entendre had been intentional. Of course it had. Little punk.
Fortunately, Leanne didn’t seem to notice. “We’re jumping a lot of guns right now, boys. At this moment, all I know is you have an amazing book, an editor who’s on board, and the very real possibility that we’re going to try to negotiate this book into the Triple Moon series.”
Samir suddenly had the biggest, cutest grin on his face. “Holy shit.”
Leanne smiled. “That’s what I thought when I read the book, sweetheart.”
“So, um.” Samir cleared his throat again, but the grin didn’t fade. “What happens next?”
“That’s in the publisher’s court right now. If the powers that be are willing to negotiate, they’ll come to me, and that’s when I work the dirty black magic that earns me a piece of your pie. And with any luck, it’ll be a nice big pie.”
Samir looked at Anthony, his eyes huge.
Anthony just smiled. “Looks like we’re working together.”
“Well.” Leanne cleared her throat. “That’s another thing I wanted to mention, actually.”
They both turned to her again.
“Is this going to be a one-time thing? Or is Samir going to be an ongoing contributor to the series?” She gave Anthony the hard, cold business eye. “Will there be any other books?”
“I hit the wall on my book eight.” Anthony rubbed his face. “The way it was going, I really needed to bring up Raphael’s past and that ...” He shrugged. “Well, let’s just say Samir set me up perfectly to bring that past into the next book.”
“Excellent.” Leanne’s expression softened a little. “Are you really bringing Kit back?”
Anthony couldn’t help grinning. “You’d better believe it.”
Samir cocked his head. “Kit?”
“Raphael’s ex-partner.”
“Partner?” Samir blinked.
“Professional partner, I mean.” Anthony grinned even bigger. “Things
were volatile as fuck between them, but they had serious chemistry too.”
Leanne snorted. “That would be an understatement.” She shivered. “Those boys practically set the furniture on fire.”
“You’ve read it?”
“Yep.” She grimaced. “I’m the one who made him cut it. For marketing reasons.”
“She did.” Anthony sighed dramatically. “In the original, Raphael was pretty much a gay guy in denial dating a lot of women to get over his partner in the force. I got around it by ignoring that character for the past few books, but it was always clear to me that in book eight, Raphael would have to face his past. And that past is Kit. Which I haven’t been able to do anything with so far. Not until you set me up to bring Kit back into the picture.”
“Sorry for talking you into straightening him out.” Leanne drew up her shoulders a bit. “The market really wasn’t ready for a bi guy, and the story didn’t actually suffer, but sometimes I wish we’d just gone with a smaller press.”
“Water under the bridge. Especially since Kit can come back now.”
“Wow,” Samir said. “So Raphael really is canonically gay?”
“Well, bi. Why do you think I pushed so hard for Chip to play that part while half the production company was gagging on the idea of an out gay actor playing a straight character? I thought it would queer Raphael in people’s heads.”
“Holy shit.”
Leanne smirked. “I suppose you didn’t tell him why you pushed so hard for Lyle Phelan to play Dima Sobakin, either.”
Samir’s mouth fell open. “But he wasn’t out yet. How did you even—” He stopped when they both threw him “really?” looks. “Okay, okay. Everyone knew he was. But still.”
“Actually, I just thought Lyle had the chops to pull off Sobakin. To be honest ...” Blushing again. Awesome. “I wrote Dima while picturing Lyle. When I had a shot at casting him, I wasn’t about to pass it up.”
“The things I learn when I get behind the scenes.” Samir laughed. “This shit’s insane.”
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