I had just come off a grueling book tour, somehow having managed to write a bestseller. My agent promised to run Interference so that I could get started on a sequel, but I had one last appearance I wanted to make. I offered to do a book signing at the local independent bookstore; it's a good store run by friendly people and only 15 minutes from my house. The place was a favorite of mine with dark wood bookshelves and a small coffee shop in the back with some of the best pastries to be found.
My table was placed near the front of the door, and I rarely had a break from locals stopping by wanting me to sign their copies or ask questions about the book. Many just want to chat. It was during these moments that I noticed that one of the store employees kept glancing my way. The couple of times I caught her staring, I couldn't quite place the look she was giving me--perhaps recognition or just curiosity. She was a good-looking woman, possibly a few years younger than me. From what I could tell, under her conservative bookstore attire, she had a nice trim figure. I couldn't decide if her facial features were mousy or a little Cheshire cat-like. But balancing out her facial features was her beautiful, golden-brown hair, which reached down to the middle of her back, with a few thin, random beaded braids mixed in. Overall, she was quite attractive in an earthy sort of way.
Finally, I made myself ask the manager her name. I was a bit taken aback when she said "Tiana Roberts". I had known a Tiana Roberts in my youth. I didn't know her well, but the couple of times we crossed paths were memorable. Was that why she had been glancing my way all afternoon, trying to figure out if I was the boy she knew from Colorado--holy cow. Here we were in a small Northern California town, a thousand miles and a quarter century away from those brief teenage encounters.
If this was the same Tiana, our first encounter had resulted in my first make-out session, and I had managed to give her an unfortunate hickey on the front of her throat. That night was all innocent enough; I don't believe I even got a feel, that is, I didn't even make it to 'second base.' I saw her a couple of days later on the street with a large band-aid on her throat, but then I lost track of her. I don't think I ever saw her all through high school, but it was a large school of over 2,000 students. She was also a grade lower than I.
The second time we crossed paths was not so innocent. It was after we had graduated high school during that challenging time, between 18 and 21, when you could buy 3.2 beer in Colorado but no other alcohol, so you still needed to be clever to get hard stuff. I recall that I had just turned 20 and learned she would soon be 19. That date--if you could call it that--was also memorable for the wrong reasons. She had an older sister, Madelyn. My longtime friend, roommate, and coworker Jim and Madelyn had arranged a get-together at our apartment, and it was the second time I was being set up with Tiana.
We had gotten our hands on some Tequila and got naked. Well, there was too much booze and some other less-than-legal substances, and the evening fell apart. Apparently, the plan all along--for which everyone but me was in on--was for Tiana and me to have sex. I was too drunk and guilty of non-performance. She didn't say anything about my failure, one way or the other. In fact, she had said very little that night.
Things in the other bedroom also didn't go well. Jim passed out on Madelyn. Madelyn was quite drunk and really wanted to be screwed; it didn't matter by who, and she wanted me to provide the service in the absence of Jim. In high school, she had the reputation of being a slut. This desperation to get fucked, said that reputation might have been deserved. Jim and Madelyn weren't dating, so I agreed. Well, I still couldn't get it up, and that was before I developed a pussy eating passion. This apparently was quite upsetting to Madelyn. She ended up crying because no one--specifically me--would screw her. Tiana got her distraught sister dressed, and they left.
I hadn't learned anything about Tiana that night, and never saw her again. The only other time her name came up was perhaps a year later when I heard she was working in the local massage parlor giving out happy endings. The thought briefly crossed my mind to investigate that rumor and visit the massage parlor, but it never happened. I probably had realized I wouldn't have the nerve to follow through, and without any peer pressure to do so, I never even seriously considered trying. Besides, given our history, she might not have been happy to see me, and I wouldn't get my hand job.
So... yeah. Now, it's a quarter century later. It's a bit strange and potentially awkward if this were the same woman, but I needed to find out. If it was her, we might be like old acquaintances meeting years later, far from home, or it might just be really fucking uncomfortable given our past.
When it got quiet in the store and after one aborted attempt--having only made it as far as a bookshelf near my table and then pretending to look at a random book--I eventually got the nerve to walk over to where she was arranging books in the nonfiction section.
"Excuse me. Are you Tiana Roberts?"
She looked at me, seemingly flustered. "Yes." The conversation awkwardly paused before she said, "I've read your book, and I really liked it."
"Thanks. Do we know each other from Colorado?"
"I think so; you went by Tony then, not Anthony, and I wouldn't say we knew each other. I mean, we never really talked. You were a jock and I was a nobody." Jock was not something I would have called myself. I only played a little football. A hood might have been a better description.
"I started using Anthony when I began my professional career. And the way I remember it, I once gave you a terribly embarrassing hickey. It's a little late, but I'm very sorry about that." She snickered at that. "I hope that event and our later encounter didn't scar you."
"Pffff, right. It is you. At least you remember that. No, you weren't the person who spun me off on the wrong path. It was probably my parents, according to my various shrinks. It took a long time, but I've made a course correction, and now here I am, working in a bookstore in small town California. I've always liked books, so this has become my convent where I stay out of trouble. You seemed to have done well."
"I'm comfortable."
"Sounds like you're rich."
"Not on the book, I assure you. Maybe I'll get a better deal on the second one."
"I'd like to hear more about your book and writing process. I'm trying my hand at writing. My big project is a memoir. I was very self-destructive during most of my life, so I have material. I dabble in fiction, and once I finish writing about my fucked up life, I would like to explore that too."
"I have someone thumbing through the book at my table, and better get back. Would you like to meet for coffee? I'd love to discuss writing with you further. It seems to be one of my favorite topics these days."
"I guess we could do that. I'm here until closing today, but I only need to open tomorrow. Would across the street, down at the corner, tomorrow at 12:30 work? I don't want to do it here. I'm sure you understand."
"Yeah. That would be great."
"Oh, and Anthony, I've had a really rough few years. Actually, that's an understatement; I've had a rough life, and men were a huge part of that. I'm not looking for a relationship. I know that's a bit presumptuous, but I want to be upfront about where I stand on relationships."
Her stern expression told me this was a serious pronouncement. I felt a chill, and couldn't help but think that this might be directed at me because of our history.
"That's fine, Tiana. Just a friendly conversation is perfect. Tell you what, I'll take the passenger seat, and you drive. You have my willing acceptance for whatever direction you'd like, so if you'd like to just chat over coffee, that's fine. However, if you'd like dinner or anything beyond coffee, just ask. Regardless, I won't come knocking at your door. I often visit here and pick up a book or two, and I might say hello, but that's it. If, on the other hand, we enjoy each other's company, I hope you won't hesitate to suggest another get-together. And yeah, I do have some money, so I'd be happy to buy you a meal on occasion just as friends if you'd like."
"Okay. I can work with that, thanks. Right now, I need to unpack a new book shipment."
My little speech had sounded awkward to my ears, but her expression had brightened. I guessed it was good enough. Besides, I wasn't looking for any complications either, and she seemed complicated.
"Anything good?" I asked.
"I'll let you know tomorrow."
<<<< -- >>>>
We hadn't counted on the fact that the coffee shop served good sandwiches and was running a lunch special. We found a couple of stools in a corner by the front window and tried to talk in the obnoxiously loud place. She was almost bubbly and much more friendly than yesterday in the bookstore. I guess she decided I wasn't a dubious guy after all. After some chit-chat, I was surprised when she said she had Sunday off and asked if I lived nearby. When I told her I was just a few miles outside of town, she asked if she could come by and said it would be the best way to talk without distractions, because she was really curious about what it took to become a bestselling author.
We exchanged phone numbers, I gave her my address, and she said she would come by after lunch. As I walked away from the corner café, I was a little confused by Tiana's abrupt change in attitude. Perhaps it was as she said, she just really wanted to discuss writing. Still, I was surprised by her so quickly inviting herself to my house after what she told me about her feelings toward men. It seemed that she decided to trust me, and she was right--I would keep my word about letting her dictate the terms of our relationship to a point. The point being, I would slow it down if she came onto me too strongly. I would need to know more about her "fucked up life" before things when to far. There were some paths best not travelled, and she might be one of them.
<<<< -- >>>>
She arrived at my place shortly after 1 PM wearing running shorts and a t-shirt. She did have nice legs. I felt a moment of guilt for assessing her like that, but even if the relationship was to be platonic, it didn't hurt to appreciate her appearance. It's hard for a guy not to.
Inviting her in, I asked, "You found the place alright?"
"Yeah. Nice fucking place. I was right; you're rich. How'd that happen if it wasn't the book? Your parents didn't have this kind of money back in Boulder. I know about where you lived. It wasn't that far from us. You were a good football player. I actually went to a game once and saw you play. Did that work out? Did you play pro football or something?"
"Oh, no. Bad knee. After spending a couple of years drifting around, somehow avoiding serious trouble, I attended college and earned a couple of degrees in geology. After starting a consulting company, I sold that and started a mineral exploration company with a friend. We got lucky and sold a large gold deposit to a major mining company. That was a chunk of cash and royalties. I still dabble in the business, but I've had time to write. That's me in a nutshell. Hey, so I have some munches on the back patio."
"That sounds nice."
On the way through the house, I showed her a few highlights, including the location of the restroom. It was a warm summer day, and I set up a couple of lounge chairs under the patio cover, out of the sun, and suggested we situate ourselves there.
We sat down, but then she said, "Your backyard is fucking gorgeous. I love your landscaping and the pool. Can you give me a tour?"
"Sure, there is not much more to see, really." We walked over to the edge of the pool. "All the landscaping is xeriscaping. This pool is the highlight, but the landscaped area is only a small part of what I own. The total property is 80 acres, most of which is the hill above us. So, about 70 or so acres of my backyard is wild hillside, and all this land gives me complete privacy. Because the adjoining land above is National Forest, even the top of the lot is private. The view from up there is fantastic."
"How do you get up there?"
"I've built a trail that runs up the hill. It's good exercise, and don't tell the Forest Service, it's faint, but my trail eventually connects to one of their official trails."
