Page 57 of Slow Burn Summer

Kate and Liv stood shoulderto shoulder in the tiny storeroom. It was more of a cupboard really, a pantry once upon a time when the shop used to be a butcher’s in days gone by. Bolts of material lined the shelves along with reels of ribbons and trimmings, plus a rack of wigs at the back.

“It sounds like they’re arguing,” Liv said, straining to listen as Fiona and H came into the shop.

“He was never going to take the T-Rex idea well,” Kate whispered, even though they were unlikely to be heard.

“You should have turned the radio off,” Liv muttered, frowning as she practically pressed her ear to the wood. “All I can hear is Lady sodding Gaga.”

“They’re definitely arguing.”

“Is he Welsh?” Liv said. “It sounds like Tom Jones is out there.”

“I’ve no clue, remember?” Kate hadn’t imagined H to be Welsh. She hadn’t really imagined him to have an accent at all,and nerves kicked in at the thought of going out there to actually talk to him. They’d shared meaningful conversations over email, but she’d always had the benefit of time to write, delete, and rewrite her replies. She’d come to look forward to their exchanges, but everything had changed now, thanks to Alice’s feckless ex-boyfriend.

“What am I going to say to him?” she said, pressing her hands against her hot cheeks.

Liv paused. “Please don’t eat me?”

Kate side-eyed her sister and found her trying not to laugh.

“Not funny,” she said.

“You know it was,” Liv grinned, then they both jumped when someone knocked on the door. As Kate reached for the handle, Liv quickly slid her silver bangle from her own wrist to her sister’s. They shared a look that didn’t need words, then opened the door.

Fiona blocked their exit, lugging Kate out by the arm and maneuvering herself into the storeroom with Liv.

“No way,” Liv said, backing into the wall of wigs.

“His rules, not mine. I like it even less than you do,” Fiona snapped. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” She leaned back out and called, “Remember to disguise your accent.”

“Christ Almighty, Fiona! I’m not the only Welsh author in the world, just shut the fucking door, will you?” H roared, sending Fiona scuttling inside the storeroom with a slam of the door.

Kate turned around slowly in the small shop and found herself face-to-face with a pacing, seven-foot T-Rex. Her bracelets jangled on her wrist as she wrung her hands in front of her, unsure what to say or do.

“I’m so sorry about all of this, Kate,” H said, clutching his massive head with his clawed hands as he moved around the shop, restless. “I should have stuck to my guns. I never agreed with this ridiculous circus in the first place.”

“It’s not your fault,” Kate said. “Taking the job was my choice, and let’s face it, it’s my family who caused the leak, not you.”

He tried to throw his arms up and found himself constricted by the tiny T-Rex arms. “Christ alive, I can’t believe I’m dressed as a fucking dinosaur! I need a bloody Scotch,” he said, swinging around so hard the weighted tail thrashed behind him. “I’m going to make a public statement.” His deep, melodic Welsh accent was entirely at odds with his T-Rex outfit. “Put a stop to this crock of shite once and for all.”

He was angry and anguished in turn, and Kate found herself sliding into let-me-help mode, her default for so many years.

“Look, we’ve come this far. How does you going public now help anyone? People are going to judge me for my choices just the same, so don’t do it for me. You don’t want this book attached to your name. That was always the deal.”

“But I can’t let you suffer for me,” he yelled, loud and pained, planting his claws on the counter in front of her. He probably didn’t realize it but his snout was almost touching her nose. TheJurassic Parktheme struck up unhelpfully in her head, and much as her rational brain knew she wasn’t in any danger, she took a couple of small steps backward toward the storeroom door. Although things would have to get significantly worse for her to squeeze herself in there with Fiona.

“I’m not suffering for you,” she said. “If I suffer for this, it’s on me. And you know something? I’m not sorry.” She was thinking aloud, analyzing how she felt about the day’s turn of events as she went along. “I love the book so much. It’s sorrowful and raw and hopeful all at the same time. Whoever said being a guardian angel was going to be an easy job?” Kate placed a hand over one of the giant claws. “I’ve had so many readers tell me they’ve found real comfort in your words, people who’ve beenthrough unimaginable things and can relate, who’ve found solace and comradeship in this story. Sanctuary in your grief. One woman even got herself a rescue dog, just like he did in the book. Can you believe that? You’ve provided a blueprint for grief, a map of survival.” She paused, hoping her words were landing somewhere inside the ridiculous costume. “Dog sanctuaries around the country will be grateful to you,” she said, trying to shine a light into the darkness.

Something like a low growl emitted from deep inside the T-Rex.

“What the fuck, Fiona?” he shouted, startlingly loud. “There was no fucking dog in my story!”

“Er, there is a dog,” Kate said. “Hamlet, the rescue Jack Russell.”

“Fucking Hamlet?” he full-on roared, and Kate backed away again.

Fiona inched the storeroom door open just enough to shout back. “Readers need hope! The ending was too dismal so they made it more upbeat.”

“Hamlet? What did you do, get the book of one hundred and one clichéd fucking dogs’ names out of the library?” He stomped around the shop in a temper. “And dismal? Griefisdismal. That’s what you should have called the fucking dog, Dismal.” He stopped and stared toward the storeroom door. “I can’t believe you did that, Fiona, I really can’t.”

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