Chapter 2
Chapter Two
MARLEY
“Absolutely not,” I say into the phone.
“Come on, Marley. It’s Christmas.” My agent Kim has resorted to begging.
“I don’t give a fuck if there’s an asteroid headed for Earth. That woman is a bitch, and I’m not doing her a favor.”
“The favor isn’t for her, it’s for me,” Kim says and then sighs. “Look, I owe her. She was the one that did all the marketing work on my last campaign. She might be a bitch, but she gets results.”
“She didn’t do the campaign for me. Go ask that author to sign a book. Hell, they can sign mine.” I look out the window and watch the heavy flakes mounding through the woods.
“You know it doesn’t work like that. They want THE Marley Jacobs.”
“I’m sure you could sign it and no one would be the wiser.” I reach up and rub the back of my neck. “Come on, Kim, you know I don’t do signings, or appearances, or—”
“People,” Kim says, and I huff.
“And people,” I confirm. “I like my privacy. Why the hell do you think I’m all the way out here?”
“Beats me.” I can hear the sounds of traffic from the city as she walks home. “But don’t you think it’s ironic that one of the most prolific horror writers lives in a town called Cheerful?”
“The irony is the best part,” I say, and she snorts.
I’ve always loved writing, especially writing horror.
Several years ago, Kim read one of my older books and loved it so much she reached out to me about working together.
Since then, I’ve published dozens of horror novels that have all done really well.
Kim is the reason for that because I hate social settings and want to be left alone.
But the bigger I got, the more people recognized me.
Then I had the accident. After that I had to leave the city.
I’d heard about the town of Cheerful and visited it a few times before finally deciding to make it my home.
It’s peaceful here, and everybody that knows who I am respects my privacy.
People outside of Cheerful don’t know, but my last novel was based around the town.
I changed the names so no one would know.
Except the mayor. She read it and stopped me in the street to ask me about it.
It was awkward because she gets killed in the book by being run over with a lawn mower. Good thing she got a kick out of it.
“Please, Marley. For me.” I can almost picture Kim on the sidewalk freezing to death and hoping I’ll say yes.
“Fine,” I give in, and she squeals excitedly.
“Good, because they are already on her way.”
“What?” I snap.
“I know, I’m sorry, but I knew you’d say yes.”
“Or you knew you’d wear me down until I said yes.” Flopping onto the sofa, I shut my eyes and will myself to calm down.
“Pretty please don’t be mad at me?” I hear Christmas music playing in the background, so she must have gone back inside the restaurant to be with her family.
“I’m signing the book and kicking them out. I’m not going to be nice.” As much as I want to be nice and welcoming, I’m not. So there’s no sense in pretending otherwise.
“Ha,” Kim barks a loud laugh. “You? Be nice? Don’t worry, I didn't expect you to change personalities since the last time we talked.” She says something to her mom and sister before coming back to the phone. “Listen, I’ve got to go, but...she’s...and you...don’t...and then-forget. Okay?”
“You’re breaking up,” I say and look down at the phone in my hand. The screen on it flashes before I put it back to my ear. “Kim?”
“Christmas...Marley...time...for...horror...companionship...Santa.”
“Kim, either you’re telling me to write a horror story about Christmas or fuck Santa, I can’t tell.”
When my phone beeps, I look down at the screen and see the line has gone dead. Figures. I don’t have a landline because most of the year my cell phone works fine. In the winter it’s the worst because the cell towers get snow and ice built up on them and then I can’t get a signal.
Now I’m stuck waiting for someone that is on their way, but I have no idea who they are or when they’ll be here.
Maybe I could wait on the porch for them so that when they pull up, they don’t have to come inside.
I could even go to their car and they can turn around in the driveway without having to get out at all.
There’s a lot of reasons I like being alone, but one of the biggest is because of the way people stare at me.
Back when I lived in the city, I was walking down the street when a kid ran out of a store and knocked me over.
It was an accident, but when I fell, it was into a bike lane, and my face got hit.
A jagged scar runs down one side of my face and over my eye. I’m still able to see just fine, but the color changed after the surgery. When I go into Cheerful, I wear a hat and sunglasses, and I’ve since grown a beard. It’s not out of place in these parts, and it helps hide what’s underneath.
Maybe if I looked like my old self, I wouldn’t be the recluse that I am.
But I’ve seen the look of fear in people’s eyes when they see my face.
Worse, I see the pity. That’s not something I’m prepared to deal with every time I walk outside.
So I stick to my once-a-month shopping trip to stock up on essentials, and I communicate by email or phone.
If it wasn’t for Kim, I’m not sure I would use my phone, and now she’s sent someone to my house. I guess that’s what I get for talking to her.
Before the stranger arrives, I busy myself with stocking up on wood for the fireplace in case the power goes out.
It doesn’t happen all the time, but in a snowstorm like this one, it’s bound to be out for at least a few hours.
Over the years, I’ve gotten good at surviving on my own for days and days without power.
I could do without it, but I like the convenience of turning on hot water instead of having to boil it for a shower.
Also, it makes my writing life a hell of a lot easier.
Thinking back to what Kim said when her phone was cutting out, a Christmas horror novel isn’t such a bad idea. Maybe I’ll write one where a stranger gets stuck in a snowstorm and finds a cabin in the woods.
I chuckle as I carry the axe to the woodshed and get to chopping.