Page 4 of Battle of the Exes

Her voice trails off, the TV goes silent. “At least we’ll go out with a bang. Jasper Kensington is coming to the Quill for a signing.”

“No way.” He’s my favorite thriller author, by far.

“Yep. We booked him a few weeks ago.” I hear the excitement in her voice.

It’s a huge score. Book tours for authors as popular as Kensington are typically scheduled a year in advance. Seems Rue has nurtured some amazing contacts over the years.

Under any other circumstances, I’d be doing a jig. I’m a huge fan girl of Jasper’s. I’ve read everything he’s written.

But my head is spinning from the bad news.

Another plane heads west. It’s a sign.

I never answered Rue’s pleading question. I want to say I’m on a deadline, that no one can take over my column. Thateveryonewantsto take over my column. That they’re a pack of vultures and I’m in the constant mode of proving that I’ve still got what it takes.

Instead I say, “How’s Friday?”

“What?”

“Don’t do anything rash,” I say. “I’m coming home.”

Chapter Two

Beau

“Sure, we can get you a manicure,” I say into the phone, masking the irritation in my tone. It’s a good thing he can’t see my face.

I’ve had many clients over the course of my career but none come close to Jasper Kensington. He may be this year’s most lauded psychological thriller author, topping the charts for ten weeks straight, but he’s also the most self-absorbed writer I’ve ever had the displeasure to work with. It only gets worse with each new book hit.

Still, I continue to overlook his plethora of flaws because Jasper does have one very redeeming quality. He’s signed on exclusively with my agency.

“I’ll need you to schedule two. One upon arrival and one before my next gig.”

I picture him sitting by his pool in Los Angeles, conjuring up ways to torture me.

I grit my teeth. “No problem.”

I’m not one to kowtow to the whims of a male diva, but he’s my biggest client. In other words, my income is directly impacted by his contentment.

“Where is the first stop on the tour?”

We’ve been through this eighteen times. The guy can’t pay attention for more than a few seconds at a time. How he sits for hours to write bestsellers is a mystery.

“Silver Pine, Colorado.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I told you about it last—” I catch myself before we slip into a blame game. “It’s a charming mountain town. Its residents fit your optimal reader demographics.”

I sense a complaint brewing so I add, “And it has the best carrot cake in the Rockies.”

He hesitates. “I’ll need to test that for myself,” he says. “After you pick me up from the airport.”

I want to remind him that I already hired a service but hold my tongue once more. Jasper Kensington is where my bread is buttered.

Which means, I’ll keep buttering him up, hoping I don’t choke on the crumbs.

Chapter Three

---