Taming the Star Runner

"Tell her Stan's not reading the book. Tell her--"

"It's Ms. Carmichael, you dope."

"Oh." He scrambled up, dumping Motorboat to the floor.

"Travis?" He recognized the voice on the phone.

"Yeah."

"I'm going to be in Denver next week for a convention, and I'd like to stop by on the way back. I'm really on a tight schedule, this is a hectic time of year for us, but could you meet me at the airport for lunch next Sunday? I'll have a few hours between planes."

"Yeah, I think." He looked at Ken. "Could you drive me to the airport Sunday?"

Ken nodded and Travis said, "Yeah, I can make it."

"Splendid. My flight is American 203 from Denver, and it's scheduled to arrive at one o'clock, so perhaps it will. Can you meet me at the gate?"

"Yeah." Travis wrote the flight down on the memo pad.

"What will you be wearing?"

"What?"

"How will I know you?"

"Uh, black T-shirt, brown leather jacket."

"You must dress like your characters."

She had it backward, his characters dressed like he did, but he said, "Yeah."

"Well, I won't be wearing a red rose, but I will be wearing a bright red dress. Very Santa Fe western, you won't be able to miss me. And, Travis, you might bring along a copy of your manuscript."

Red Santa Fe dress but no rose, Travis thought frantically. Maybe Ken would know what she was talking about.

"I don't have one"--he'd just realized what she'd said.

There was a pause. "Who does?"

"You do."

"We have the only copy?"

"Yeah."

"You sent the original through the mail without making a copy?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." There was another pause. "Well, I'll have the office make us a few copies. See you next week. Bye, now."

"Yeah."

He hung up the phone, dazed. She was the first person he'd ever heard use the word splendid. He wondered what she was going to look like. He had absolutely no idea what a publisher was supposed to look like. His characters. She knew how his characters dressed ... He was going to meet a publisher!

"Kid," Ken said, "you have the most incredible way with words, on the phone."

Travis realized now that his every other word had been yeah.

His face burned. Then he shrugged.

"Well, she's not publishing my phone conversations." He tried to seem careless, but it was hard not to jump up and down and turn somersaults.

"Can't blame her for that," Ken said. "You hungry? Let's go get pizza."

"I'm starvin', man," Travis said.

Chapter 8

"I don't see why I can't meet her by myself. I wrote it by myself, I figured out where to send it by myself, I mailed it by myself--"

"I've told you--you can have lunch with her without us. I'm just going to shake her hand, let her know you're not rattling around the universe like a loose pea, and go."

"Aw, she knows I got an uncle." Travis was nervous, and as usual, nervous got him irritated. He wanted to turn around and yell, "Shut up!" at Christopher, who was playing with an airplane in his car seat, complete with airplane noises.

It was bad enough that Ken was going to deliver him to Ms. Carmichael like it was his first day of kindergarten; Christopher was going to be there too.

Ms. Carmichael, meet the nursery class, he thought bitterly.

As if he'd been reading Travis's mind, Ken said, "Have you been avoiding Christopher lately? I thought you guys got along okay."

Travis winced. He'd hoped Ken hadn't noticed. "Well, I don't want to get him mad at me, and sometimes I can't help it."

"He gets mad at me, too, and I manage to live through it."

"Yeah, but he could get me kicked out." Travis thought Ken might as well hear the truth. He'd felt bad, because Chris couldn't figure out what was going on, but that phone-throwing episode had put a serious scare into Travis.

Ken was quiet so long Travis thought the subject was closed.

"I'm not saying you can't get kicked out." His voice was startlingly loud all of a sudden. "But Christopher can't do it."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Great." Travis was relieved. "You know, I didn't know little kids were like real people before. Like the horses, they're like real animals."

Ken said dryly, "Live and learn." And Travis didn't know if he was talking to himself or not.

"What airline?" Ken asked.

"Western. No--the dress is western. American."

"I hope you've got the flight right."

Travis hoped so too. He'd been doing so many screwy things since Ms. Carmichael's call, he couldn't swear to it.

"Daddy, you don't have a beard," Christopher said.

"No, I don't," Ken answered absently.

"David has a beard."

"Who's David?"

"Mama's friend."

Travis glanced sideways at Ken, and saw his jaw twitch. Geez, he thought, half in sympathy,

half irritated, if he still cares about her, why doesn't he patch it up? It always bugged him to see adults being stupid. And they always act like they know everything...

"What's Santa Fe western?" he asked suddenly.

"It's this artsy-fartsy cowboy stuff--East Coast western."

That didn't help him much. Red. Well, at least he knew what red was.

"Travis doesn't have a beard," Christopher said.

He did recognize her right away. Fairly tall, forty at least, wearing a bright red cowboyish dress, dark blue boots, carrying a dark blue briefcase-looking bag. Ms. Carmichael had long, wild, wiry black hair, pulled back at one side with a piece of turquoise, and large black eyes. She was the most glamorous person Travis had ever seen. This was style!

As she looked around the crowd he stepped out and waved at her.

"Travis?" She put out her hand, and after a second he shook it.

"Yeah," he said, then he could have bitten his tongue off. That word again.

"Nell Carmichael."

"This is my uncle," Travis added.

"Ken Harris." Ken shook her hand too. "And this is Christopher."

Christopher said, "I have to pee."

"Oh, dear," said Ms. Carmichael. "I do too. Let's go find a john."

Travis wished he could die, quickly and painlessly, right then and there, but Ken laughed and they walked down the hall together.

In the john he combed his hair carefully, for the hundredth time that day. Maybe he should have worn his olive-green long-john shirt. Maybe black was too ... old? Tough?

"Do I look okay?" he asked Ken, who was trying to hold the water on, and trying to hold Christopher up to wash his hands, at the same time.

"You look fine."

Travis was dying to know what Ken thought of Ms. Carmichael, but they trooped back out to wait for her in silence.

Ken and Christopher left them at the restaurant entrance, much to the relief of Travis, who was expecting Chris to announce he wanted to do poo, too.

But after they were gone, he felt tongue-tied. He didn't know any small talk, and was scared he'd have to do some before they got to talking about the book.

"Your uncle is a very attractive man."

Travis shrugged. Ken probably did look good for as old as he was, but he didn't have any clothes style. Suits to work, jeans on weekends. Today he'd put on his corduroy blazer, and he was nothing to be ashamed of.