Chapter 6 #2
“What do you think this is going to be like?” Nathan asked, changing the subject. “Like … are they just going to open the doors and let random people storm in and mob us?”
Bree’s perfectly manicured eyebrows—black like her hair—knit. “What sort of author events have you been to that involve fans mobbing authors?”
She had a point. Even when readers were excited to see authors, they were never unruly.
I’d always assumed that was because readers were inherently chill for the most part.
They enjoyed going on adventures in their heads rather than in real life.
Not that they were boring. I’d met more than a few who had exotic hobbies.
It was just that, as a general rule, readers were calm.
They weren’t going to rip off their shirts and bras and throw them at their favorite author as if it was a heavy metal concert.
Nathan chuckled. “I’ll have you know I’ve been mobbed more than once,” he said to Hayley. “You can’t see it because you’re genetically predisposed to find my parts odious—”
Hayley’s eyebrows hiked. “I find your parts odious?”
“You’re scared of penises. It’s okay to admit it.”
Hayley rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. Weirdly, it felt as if Nathan and Hayley were building a genuine friendship. They were already comfortable with one another, uttering off-color jokes that might have offended somebody else. How had that even happened?
I glanced across the table and found Bree frowning at the exchange in the same way I was. When Nathan and Hayley kept talking only to each other, she turned to me and shifted on her chair, clearly uncomfortable.
“I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about a mob,” she said.
“Annette said we were looking at about a hundred readers each event. If the venue happens to be bigger, then we might get up to two hundred, but most of the venues are small to create an intimate environment between us and the readers.”
I nodded. “That’s what I’m anticipating.” Or perhaps that was what I’d been hoping for. I played with the wrapper from my straw. “Do you think we have to drink with them? Like… are we expected to sit at tables with them and pretend to care about what their kids are doing?”
To my utter surprise, Bree threw her head back and laughed so hard I was worried she might choke. “Oh my god.” She wiped leaky tears from the corners of her eyes and shook her head.
I didn’t appreciate her making fun of me. “It was just a question.”
“I was wondering the same thing as you, so don’t get your panties in a bunch,” she shot back, not missing a beat. “Not everything I say is a dig at you, no matter what you believe.”
I opened my mouth, suddenly sheepish, then snapped it shut. I did do that. I took everything people said to heart, whether it was a general comment or pointed at me. That had been one of the knocks against me my entire life.
“Sorry.” Weirdly, I meant it. “I just … crowds make me nervous. I don’t know why.”
“It’s because authors, in general, are introverts,” Bree replied, offering up a soft smile. “I get it. I’m an introvert too.”
“You are?” Was she actually offering me a lifeline here? That couldn’t be right. She was the devil. The devil didn’t try to find common ground with her mortal enemy.
She nodded. “Crowds make me sweaty and itchy.”
“Not like a Vagisil situation, right?” Nathan asked.
Bree extended her middle finger in his direction. “That charm thing you assume is going to make every woman you cross paths with drop her panties doesn’t work on me. When I look at you, I see the clown from Terrifier.”
It was a reference Nathan clearly understood because he sat straighter in his chair. “Art?”
Bree bobbed her head.
“Why not Pennywise?” Nathan asked. “He’s normally everybody’s horror-movie-clown go-to.”
Now Bree did smile, and for once I understood why.
She approved of Nathan’s question. “Because Pennywise is the superior clown,” she replied.
“He’s got nuance and a good backstory. There’s a reason he does what he does, even if you don’t agree with it.
Art is a chump who goes through life shocking people just to get attention. ”
Nathan’s lips curved up. “Are you saying that’s me?”
“Yup.”
Nathan wasn’t insulted. “You’re kind of funny.”
“I am funny. I also don’t like crowds. I can only take so much before I have to sneak a five-minute break and get some air.” Her eyes moved to me. “You can come with me if you need air. You don’t even need to make an excuse. Just glom onto mine.”
It was a surprisingly sweet offer. “I … will consider it.”
I did not want to like this woman. She’d ruined my life. Still—still—she was extending an olive branch. We didn’t have to be friends not to be enemies. “Thank you.”
She smiled, the expression soft. “No problem.” She turned back to her menu. “I’m getting the low country boil.”
“That’s what I’m getting,” I said.
This time awe was running through me as I regarded her. Maybe we had more in common than I’d thought. Not that it mattered for any reason other than making the next twelve weeks tolerable.
“As for the readers, I’m not sure what to expect,” Bree said, turning the conversation back to business. “Will it mostly be readers of one genre? It’s Savannah, so I can see the paranormal and horror writers doing well with this thing.”
“Not the high fantasy authors, huh?” I prodded, my stomach constricting again. What if none of the readers were here to see me? I didn’t want to think on that too hard. One of my greatest fears was that I’d fallen so far between releases nobody even remembered me.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that.” Bree shook her head.
“You have a strong fan base. They’re clamoring online for your next book.
I also think Savannah gets a lot of paranormal-enthusiast tourists.
The locals get sick of it. I think we’re going to get a mixture of tourists and locals at these things. ”
It was an intriguing thought. “I guess we’ll know more after tonight,” I said.
She nodded. “Tonight is the template. We’ll go from there.”