Writing A Wrong (Write Stuff 2)

"I have to tell you, I'm excited too," I said, beaming with pleasure as I spotted a cat sitting on a desk in the corner of the room. Another sat by the door leading to the main area of the store. "Oh, I love your shop," I added, bending down to pet the cat for a moment. "I had to leave my baby at home."

"Ah, thank you, my dear. It's been in my family for generations. The first paperbacks sold here cost a dime, if that tells you how long we've been here. We've made some cosmetic changes during the years, but the shelves are all original," she said, opening the stockroom door to reveal a small but perhaps the warmest bookstore I'd ever stepped into. Rich mahogany shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling while shorter shelves and tables divided the floor space into sections. Two leather chairs bookended a small round table in the corner where we were standing. A delicate Tiffany lamp sat on the table, casting a warm glow that provided an intimate feel.

After the crisp, cold air outside, the appeal of curling up in one of those chairs with a good book all day was tantalizing.

"I thought I'd set you up over here," Patricia said, pointing to a narrow wooden table just to the left of the seating area. "I figure that way they can make their purchases first and then funnel back here to you. My staff will then direct them down this row and back out of the store. I think that will work best for crowd control. Originally, I planned Q&A and even had chairs set up, but we quickly dismissed that idea after the line formed. Hopefully we can still get you out of here in two hours.

I nodded, starting to feel overwhelmed. I couldn't quite wrap my brain around the idea that she thought I'd have a steady line for two hours. Was this really my life?

"Nicole, the photographer is here and wants to take some shots of you behind the table," Olivia said, handing me a Starbucks that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. "Patricia," she answered, smiling at the shop owner who was currently stacking copies of Wicked Lonely and Wicked Lovely at the front counter.

I approached the table with a bit of reverence. A copy of Wicked Lovely sat in front of my chair. I studied the cover fondly, running a finger over Alec's face. He and this book were the reason I was standing here. He was going to freak when he saw the pictures.

Following the photographer's instructions, I posed behind the table while he took the shots he wanted. After a few minutes, though, I called a halt to the picture taking. Everyone had already been patient. If the photographer wanted more pictures, we could take more afterward. Patricia and her staff had already catered to me enough. And god knows the readers outside had waited long enough.

Olivia took charge and directed the photographer into the corner so Patricia could begin letting people in. Greg stood beside me, handing over a silver Sharpie, which was my favorite color to sign with.

I could hear excited chatter as soon as the front doors opened. Patricia planned to allow twenty people in at a time to make sure no one felt claustrophobic. I sat toying with the pen Greg had given me, anxious from the sound of approaching voices.

Olivia winked at me as the first two women made their way back to the table, squealing as soon as they caught sight of me. They were both clutching their purchases against their chests and looked close to tears. I almost teared up myself from the way they gushed about how much they loved me. They were acting like I was a celebrity. It was wild. I would call it the most insane moment of my young life.

More women joined the line, eagerly waiting to get their books signed and have pictures taken. Olivia helped keep the line moving by writing each person's name on sticky notes so I wouldn't mess up when I signed their books. Greg remained at the side to take pictures with their phones when asked.

The steady stream continued, and I lost track of how many books I signed. The hours bled away and finally when my hand was beginning to threaten mutiny, the last reader made her way to the table and Patricia finally locked the front door.

I looked wide-eyed at Olivia and Greg. "Holy shit," I said in complete awe. Even though it had been a long day, I bounced in my seat, riding the adrenaline that was still coursing through me. "That was amazing."

"You were amazing, my dear," Patricia said. She looked tired but pleased. "In all the years I've been doing this, I've never seen a writer so open and giving to each reader. You made every single one of them leave this store feeling like they were special."

I beamed at her. "They are special. Without them none of this would be possible. I owe everything to my readers." Sudden happy tears blurred my eyes and a knot formed in my throat. "Thank you so much for organizing this, and I'm sorry it ran over." I gave her a quick hug.

She clucked her tongue. "Never apologize for something like that, my dear. You treated my customers with dignity and respect. I should be thanking you. It was an honor to have you here tonight, and I hope you'll come back again."

"You can count on it," I said, sliding my arms into my jacket Olivia handed me.

Greg packed up my belongings and then went out to warm up the vehicle while I posed for pictures with Patricia and her staff. After another hug, we left Book Time in a happy haze.

Finally seated in the back of the SUV, I pulled out my phone. All I could think about at the moment was sharing the success of the signing with Alec. My face spread into a wide smile, anticipating his response. I waited as his phone rang four times before going to voicemail. Odd. Maybe he was sleeping. I couldn't deny it was disappointing, but I left him a quick message before hanging up.

I'd have to share the night's festivities with him in the morning. My excitement would keep until then.

Chapter 9

I tried Alec again the next morning, but the call went straight to voicemail. The disappointment I felt the previous night now turned to a twinge of aggravation. He knew how nervous I'd been about the solo signing. Plus, I'd left him a voicemail. The reasonable part of my brain knew he was probably busy. Thinking back on our conversations the past couple of days, I couldn't recall a reason why he would deliberately ignore me.

Unfortunately, as much as it bothered me, I didn't have time to dwell on why Alec seemed to be ignoring my calls. My agenda was full. I focused on answering the long list of social media notifications and other book-related responsibilities that had accumulated during the past week and a half.

Olivia and I sat in our pajamas all morning drinking coffee and picking from my magic chocolate basket. Eventually, even my sweet tooth couldn't take anymore and we decided to take a break and call room service for some real sustenance.

Munching on a perfectly cooked hamburger, I studied my to-do list, feeling slightly less intimidated now that we'd managed to cross off almost ha

lf the items as completed. Most of them were administrative types of tasks that Olivia handled, but she did need me to sign off on them, so I guess I did my part.

As we continued to eat our early lunch, Olivia and I bantered back and forth over one of the more fun items on the list. One of my favorite blogs was hosting an interview for Wicked Lonely and wanted my dream cast if the series was made into a movie. Olivia and I, of course, had totally different opinions on who should play Dimitri, a new side character I'd introduced to the series. Casting him would be a pivotal decision for a Wicked Lonely movie since he was the new sexy love interest. I had a mental picture of a dark and mysterious, sinfully handsome, but brutally dangerous character, which made him damn near impossible to cast, in my opinion. None of Hollywood's current pretty boys could touch his combination of good looks and lethal persona.

"He's too put together," I said, dismissing Olivia's nomination of Channing Tatum. "Dimitri is sexy in a rugged, handsome way. Not every pretty boy with pecs and a six-pack can pull off ruggedly handsome. You have to be born with it," I insisted.

She rolled her eyes. "Please, who do you want, the Marlboro Man?"