I won't say I'm not grateful, because I am. But it's harder than I thought it would be. This is my second signing. I'm in Alaska, of all places, and it's freaking cold. Now, I don't mean that it is simply cold. The cold here is unlike any cold I've ever experienced. It gets into my bones and makes my teeth chatter of their own accord.
It's my fault for setting the novel of my book in Kodiak. I needed a coastal town, and I wanted something different, so here I am. I feel like I'm in a foreign country, namely because I've never been anywhere outside of Texas.
The real challenge is that I'm here by myself. My son is in college, and this is finals week. He was devastated that he couldn't come. He's talked about wanting to visit Alaska ever since I can remember. Adam, however, is dogged if he's anything.
He will simply not allow anything or anyone to interfere with his career plan. He can be focused and ruthless (even with himself) when he needs to be, and I respect him for it. So, chin up, son. We'll make our way this way again.
It's just about time. I know this because I've already been ushered to the table, and there are stacks of my books all around me. Surprisingly, my book is selling well. To be honest, I knew it was a good story from the beginning, but whether a story catches or not is always difficult to predict.
This is my first novel, and as ridiculous as it sounds, there are eight more to go with the story. Maybe I'll condense it down to five more. To be determined, I suppose. The next two are all but written.
Writing is my life, and a writer is what I was born to be. I love it. There's nothing I don't love about writing. It's all about me. What's not to love?
But I do have to warn you, I have an unusual imagination. I view the world very differently than most people. I can assure you that at one point or another, you will not agree with me or what I'm doing. So be warned. Read at your own risk.
A pen is shoved into my hand, and the front doors are opened. It's noon, and thank god, there are people shoving each other out of the way to get to me. Wow. I truly am grateful. I wish I could say that I never doubted myself, but that would be a lie.
Thank god I don't have to read today. I'm doing a reading here in a few days. I'm grateful for this as well, but I am nervous. It will be my first reading, and I just hope I don't screw it up. I do get to choose which passages to present, so I suppose that'll make it easier.
Lost in my inner monologue, I am uncertain how many books I'd already signed or what I'd said to anyone when I heard his voice.
"I'm here, sugar." He drawled with a hint of a Texan accent.
His voice cut through everything around me and stopped my heart. I froze, afraid to look up at him. Then everything inside me started burning, and I was hyperventilating.
Next, my hands wouldn't stop shaking, to say nothing of how my brain completely shut down; and finally, to make matters worse, I couldn't remember what I was doing there. Hell, I couldn't even remember my name. All I knew is that I was afraid.
And naturally, he picked it up.
He stepped forward, leaned over the table, and took my hands. His voice was thick with emotion. "It's ok, sugar. Let me come around, and I'll take you to get some water."
I couldn't say no. I knew then that I'd never say no to this man.
I nodded, and without letting go of my hands, he walked around the table stacked with my novels. "Come on, sugar. I've got you. Just do as I say, and you'll be ok."
I stood automatically. He said a few words to someone, and he walked me to a hallway that led to a large kitchen. We never made it to the kitchen. Walking me into an empty conference room, he zeroed in on a clothed table covered with pitchers of ice water.
"Outstanding." He chuckled. "Just what we needed, sugar."
He walked me to a nearby table circled with chairs. "Have a seat, honey. I'll be right back." He nodded toward the table. "Should I hunt you some sugar? You're not going into shock on me, are you?" He smirked at me.
"I might." I almost said sir. "I may, Mr..."
"Jason Cole, Ms. Abernathy." He pulled out a chair, sat me down, took my face in his hands, and kissed me hard.
When I didn't resist, he pulled me to my feet, allowing me a moment to catch my breath.
He slid his hands onto my shoulders then up my neck until he gripped handfuls of my hair. He pulled, and my eyes and lips came up to meet his. "You're such a good girl, aren't you?"
I was instantly wet, and I somehow knew that he somehow knew I was. It made my insides burn again.
"Oh god." I gasped. I've been breathing just fine for thirty-five years.
