Writing A Wrong (Write Stuff 2)

I threw a chocolate at her. Up until a month ago, I had no idea who the Marlboro Man was. Olivia and I spent days researching my next series, which I wanted set in late eighteen hundreds Texas. In order to wrap my brain around the leap from pirates to cowboys, I needed a clear mental picture of what my hero needed to look like.

Olivia didn't share my assessment when I told her the Marlboro Man definitely had some sex appeal. "He looks like old worn-out leather," she'd argued.

I disagreed with her. "He's weathered. Not every guy has to look like he just walked out of a spa."

"Dimitri isn't rugged and weathered like the Marlboro Man, but more like Orlando Bloom in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, just without his boyish looks."

She shook her head. "Orlando Bloom? Johnny Depp is the looker from those movies."

I shook my head, disagreeing with her again. Johnny Depp looked too greasy. Dimitri is not greasy. He's dangerous and rough.

We continued debating for most of the afternoon until we had to get ready for a book tour dinner with the other authors. Our final conclusion about the casting for Wicked Lonely was that it would be fun to let the readers decide. We'd have the blog use the casting as a way to do a giveaway for some signed copies of the book.

Greg met us in the lobby later that evening since everyone decided on our recommendation to eat at the restaurant in our hotel. His suit still looked rumpled, like he'd been storing it in the back seat of his SUV. He held out a closed fist to bump with Olivia and me as we approached. It was funny how much he reminded me of Zachary. Maybe that's why he was so easy to get along with.

"I like you, but I don't fist-bump," Olivia said, shaking his fist instead.

Greg smiled, looking unfazed by her mild rejection."Denied. That's cool." He turned his attention to me, holding his fist out. I didn't have the heart to see him get rejected twice, so I gave him a halfhearted light tap with my knuckles.

"Boo-yah. Fist-bumped by N.S. Blake. I may never wash this hand again," he said, holding his hand in the air.

I couldn't help but chuckle. He acted like a big kid. "You always geek out like this?" I adjusted his tie, which hung loosely and slightly askew around his neck.

"Why don't you tuck his shirt in too?" Olivia said, shaking her head.

A squeal rang off the lobby walls, making the three of us whirl around. "Monica," I screeched, holding my arms out. A wide grin split my face at the sight of my friend teetering toward us on heels that were easily six inches tall. Some people called them hooker shoes, but they were knockout gorgeous and screamed attention. Olivia could pull off shoes like the ones Monica wore. Me, I never had the nerve.

Monica somehow managed to make it over without breaking her neck. She pulled me in for an exuberant hug. "I'm so-o-o-o glad they picked me to go on tour with you! We're going to have so much fun."

I nodded my head, laughing. Monica was a rock star in the publishing world with several highly successful series under her belt. She was an icon in the industry, and it still felt surreal that she and I were friends. "I think I'm the one who got picked to go with you guys. Did you have something to do with that?" I asked, wondering if she'd put my name into the running.

She kept an arm around me. "Oh please, honey. You're hot right now. Everybody knows it. You need to own that shit."

"That's what I told her too," Olivia said, laughing. "See," she added, slapping my arm.

"Believe me, you're the face of this tour. I'm thrilled they're letting me tag along," Monica continued earnestly.

The words were coming from her mouth, but I still couldn't believe them. One of my writing idols was telling me she was grateful to go on a tour with me.

"Aw, look at her blush. So fresh and humble. Honey, this trip is going to be such a refreshing one. Now, let's go inside so I can sit down. These fucking shoes are killing me."

I sniggered. Greg looked shocked. Olivia outright laughed. That was Monica. I was actually surprised it took as long as it did to drop an f-bomb.

Monica kept her arm around me as we walked through the lobby toward the restaurant. "If you couldn't walk in them, why'd you wear them?" I asked as she continued to swear with each step. We were gaining the negative attention of everyone we passed. Olivia and I found great enjoyment in their offended expressions. Not that I was necessarily interested in running around dropping f-bombs, but I did wonder if the day would come when I would have the confidence to say whatever was on my mind without a second thought.

Michelle and Tina, the other two authors included on the Love Bus tour, were standing with Remi and Jillian near the restaurant hostess station when we arrived. Chelsea, a public relations associate from the publisher, was also there.

Michelle and I hugged. We both started writing around the same time and met on social media. Since then, we had stayed in touch. She went directly into traditional publishing rather than starting indie the way I had. Doing this tour together would be like coming full circle for us. "Can you believe this?" she said happily. "It's going to be like a nonstop slumber party. I've brought all kinds of games for us to play."

"I'm out on spin-the-bottle. Unless, of course, Greg wants to participate," Tina said dryly, winking at Greg. I had never met Tina in person, but we had interacted many times on Facebook. She had the same in-your-face type of personality as Monica. The publisher couldn't have put together a more interesting bunch for the tour.

Greg, who up to this point had shown he was quite the kidder, couldn't help but blush. It was funny to see him out of sorts. He recovered quickly though, flashing a crooked boyish grin. "I guess I better stock up on mouthwash."

The hostess led us to our table and before sitting down, I formally introduced myself to Tina. She reminded me a little of Olivia. The type of person you loved having as a friend and would hate having as an enemy.

The conversation during dinner was lively and served its purpose to break the ice between us before the tour. I could tell by Remi's and Chelsea's satisfied faces that they were happy we were all meshing so well.

The wine, flowing like a fountain of life, helped mellow the group even further. We were informed Chelsea would tag along for the first week of the trip and then Greg would take over her duties after that, while also serving as driver.