Page 9 of SapphicLover69
Between the stand-up comic’s routine, a second glass of wine, and the pleasure of excellent company, I slept well. The next morning, I dared to look at my phone. There was a text from Tracy asking if I’d made it OK and scolding me for not checking in, one from my sister saying she was going to kill me because her kids were now insisting she get them a cat, and forty-two from the unknown number. I was tempted to delete them all sight unseen, then decided I should read them in case there were death threats. The last thing I wanted was for my friends to end up in a dangerous situation by being in my proximity.
So, I thumbed through them all.‘Where’d you go?’ ‘Why won’t you answer me?’ ‘I’m waiting.’ ‘I know what room you’re in.’ ‘I’m coming down tonight to fuck you.’ ‘You want to fuck me, I know you do.’And more of the same.
It was disturbing and disgusting, and Elaine had been right. This idiot was just trying to get under my skin, and I refusedto let her. “Aspen Wolfe is above being disturbed by harassing messages.” I pushed the three little dots in my text messaging app to block and report. “There—take that!”
I needed a shower. Hot droplets massaging my neck and shoulders felt good. I washed my hair and shaved then lotioned up. Even though I had chosen slacks for the day, I’d probably change into comfortable shorts for the night’s excursion and was unsure what I’d wear for my presentation.
Next came hair and makeup. It didn’t come out as stunning as what Alice had done for me, but at least I looked more polished than usual. After dressing, I did the curling iron thing, being vigilant not to burn myself. A light mist of hairspray should keep it from drooping. Alice loaned me her fragrance-free variety so it wouldn’t interfere with my chosen scent for the day. Something from Bath and Body Works on my neck and wrists should do the trick. I didn’t want an overpowering smell that knocked people down when I walked past them.
Studying myself in the mirror, I was about to pat my nose with a powder puff when a knock sounded at my door. I lurched in alarm, my empty stomach leaping into my throat. Had she come looking for me?
I crept through the nook and peeked out the peephole, then released the breath I’d been holding. “Are you gonna take all morning beautifyin’ yourself?” Tammy blasted impatiently. “You’re slower than my wife, and that’s saying something.”
I opened the door to see my cadre of guardians pulling their carts of books. “I’m ready,” I answered. “Just waiting on y’all.”
“Yeah, right,” Tammy smirked. As it turned out, Tammy and Beth’s suite was on my floor, though I didn’t know where the others’ rooms were.
“Since our tables are all assigned, we’re going to grab a quick breakfast at the coffee bar in the lobby, then get set up in the gallery,” Elaine said.
“My table is just two down from yours!” Winter exclaimed enthusiastically before her countenance fell. “We’re in the terrace area between the main hall and the pool, which means it’ll be hot with all the windows and skylights, and some of the traffic may not even know we’re out there.”
“Look on the bright side,” Tammy countered. “Hotel guests going to use the pool will find you for sure.”
“Now, I’ll move around to everyone’s tables to watch them for you when you need to use the restroom or go sit for a minute,” Beth offered.
“Thanks!” I grabbed my book boxes, locked the door, and together we moved toward the elevator.
“Here, Aspen,” Winter said, adding her hands to the sides of my box. “Put that on my cart.”
Accepting her offer, I set the heavy boxes atop hers. “Thank you. I should have thought about bringing one of those.” Her smile was guileless and sweet.
“No more unsolicited messages last night, I hope,” Tammy growled in warning and jabbed the down arrow.
I shook my head. There was no point in sharing all the filth. It would just get Tammy worked up and worry the others. Besides, I blocked the bugger.
“Beignets, here we come!” exclaimed a jubilant Elaine, big grin beaming.
An hour later, I stood at my table piled with romance novels for sale and bookmarks and author cards to give away, flanked by two eighty-one-inch banners, one for each of my two nominated books. (Three categories, but only two books; helped my odds of winning something.) Alas, it was not beside Tammy’s.
I sipped from my to-go coffee cup and set it down in a safe spot, readjusting a book on its easel at what I hoped was a pleasing angle. Whenever I glanced to my left, Winter waved at me with a hopeful expression. She made me laugh, which was good for calming my nerves. I had promised to point readers her way when they left my table, and she vowed to do the same. One of the first tips I learned about marketing was the value of cross-promotions with other authors.
At nine o’clock, the broad double doors of the gallery opened to a crowd of waiting fans. The hall, with a three-hundred-and-fifty-person capacity, featured inlaid lighting in tray ceilings over ornate carpets and light-colored walls. Three rows of twelve tables dominated the main room, with two extra along the far wall opposite the doors. In the window-lined space between the gallery and the pool (where Winter and I were), they had set up another line of twelve tables.
Seventy-one authors were registered for the conference, but a few shared a booth, and some didn’t reserve one. It cost an extra hundred dollars, so if they thought they wouldn’t make that back in sales or if they only had one book or were only coming for the awards banquet … anyway, each novelist vibrated with expectant energy when readers noisily spilled into the hall.
Once inside, the book buyers and autograph hunters divided, flowing like water around rocks in a stream. I smiled at the first to stop at my display.Don’t look desperate. Stand up straight. Be cool and confident. Be friendly and nice,echoed all my instructions to myself.You are Aspen Wolfe, a successful, award-winning, best-selling author who is friendly without being needy.
She bought a copy ofOnly a Touchon a recommendation from a friend, and I signed my name inside the cover. Several others took bookmarks or author cards. I swear, some people only camefor the free stuff. Still, they listed my website and newsletter sign-up, which could lead to future sales.
I had made my first hundred dollars by the time a group of three lesfic fans bounded up. The gregarious one with a fountain of narrow, black braids cascading around a cool, dusky face enthused like she was at a party in heaven. “You’re Aspen Wolfe!” Bouncing on white sneakers, she beamed at her two companions. “Look, y’all—it’s really Aspen Wolfe!”
“I want a book,” decreed a tall, lean young woman with short, stick-up hair dyed in Mardi Gras colors. She sported a tattoo sleeve and an eyebrow ring to accompany the hoops in her ears. “I want Aspen Wolfe’s autograph.”
“Yes, that’s me, Aspen Wolfe,” I answered with a modest smile. “Which book do you want?”
“Let me look at them all,” the first young woman said. She picked up a book and flipped it to read the back.
All three appeared to be college-aged. The third one hung back, staring at me in an appraising manner like she was trying to decide if she loved me or loathed me. Dirty-blonde hair streamed down her back, and a dark intensity clung to her despite her cheery rainbow tank top and the casual cut-off jean shorts she wore.
