Page 10 of SapphicLover69
Suspicion flared to life, and I launched into vigilant mode. What if she was SapphicLover69? Suddenly, I presumed any of these reader-fans could be my stalker. She could be acting all nice to my face, laughing manically to herself about how she would devise my destruction.
The quiet woman flicked her gaze over me with what looked like disdain, sending a shiver down my spine. I returned my attention to the other two.
“This one is nominated for an award,” I said, picking up a copy ofQuick.“It’s a romantic thriller with steamy, erotic scenes all happening in real time. What I mean is, it would take anaudiobook narrator about ten and a half hours to read it and all the action occurs consecutively in one day, so it’s like everything transpires as you read it with no dead time in between. It was challenging to write, and people say it’s exciting to read.”
“Fire!” exclaimed Mardis Gras hair.
“No cap!” added the young Black woman, who snatched the book out of her companion’s hand to read the blurb.
I beamed, proud I could pull off such a tough assignment as that book had been. “Where are y’all from?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m Demi, from N’awlins, and you’re my all-time favorite author. Hey, one of your MCs in this one is a POC like me!” Her effervesce spilled out as her feet did a rendition of the Snoopy dance.
“I’m Nan Anders, from Nashville,” said Mardis Gras hair. “Drove my Harley down the Trace yesterday to be here for this. You can write, ‘Chillin’ with Nan An’ right here and sign your name,” she directed, handing me a copy ofOnly a Touch.“Chapter Ten,” Nan chanted in a low, husky tone and wiggled her brows at me. I’d had more subtle come-ons.
“What about you?” I threw out to the shady blonde who had crossed her arms.
“None of us came together,” she sneered. “We just met in the hallway. You don’t need to know where I’m from. Give me a copy of that thriller and be quick about it.” Her tone was sharp and demanding like she was my ice-queen boss and I her lowly subordinate. Then I saw her form waver with witty humor at her play on words, and I returned a knowing smile.
“They’re fifteen dollars a piece,” I said.
Demi took one of each and produced a hundred-dollar bill. “I have most of the ebooks, but I must have signed paperbacks!”
“Too rich for my blood,” Nan sighed while I scratched out her dictated line and Aspen Wolfe’s practiced signature.
“Here y’all go.” I handed them each their books, tucking the money into a pouch around my waist. Was it stylish? No, but I’d lost or had cash swiped at live events before, and I couldn’t afford it again. “Be sure to stop by Winter Bliss’s table,” I suggested, pointing in her direction. The girl with no name shrugged while the other two bounced and giggled their way to Winter’s table.
I took a moment to glance around the terrace alcove and through the windows to the main gallery. Across the hall, I spied whom I thought might be the woman in black from last night. She had the same build, the same long, dark hair obscuring her face, and she was just standing staring at me from a distance. I gritted my teeth and searched for Tammy and Beth. If I could flag down Beth to have her watch my table, I could confront the lurker who’d been following me and gawking across crowded rooms. That’s just the kind of thing a stalker would do.
By the time I spotted them, two extraordinarily sophisticated older women strolled up, catching my eye. Pushing down anxiety, I presented a pleasant smile. “Welcome to the Literary Laurels Book Fair,” I greeted. “Take your time and browse but feel free to ask questions.”
They didn’t seem to notice I was there, though they gave my books a passing glance.
“This society is going to the dogs,” grumbled the taller woman with red hair that sprang from her head like a fountain and bowed in tapered layers around her sleek neck. Her jewels looked real, and she was dressed to impress in a designer business suit and heels that seemed over the top for the casual occasion.
“Really scraping the bottom of the barrel this year,” replied the stockier woman in a tailored pantsuit and leather loafers. Her gray hair was styled in a severe fade cut that appeared freshlyshaved over her diamond-studded ears. Both women carried themselves like royalty.
Concerned over their lack of appreciation for the event, I followed the women’s gazes through the wall of windows to the back side of Q.L. Shade’s booth. A tall woman in her forties, Q.L. was an author whose sapphic literary fiction novels showcased a rich tapestry of characters, including bisexual, nonbinary, and trans individuals. She had even published a memoir of her personal journey of transition.
“I’m sorry, but women who want a penis every other day or who were born with one shouldn’t be allowed to participate alongside real lesbians,” sneered the butch, who suddenly paled compared to my friend, Tammy, regardless of her money.
My mouth gaped, and my eyes widened. I couldn’t believe I was hearing this kind of prejudicial talk and I hoped to God Q.L. couldn’t hear them through the panes. My mother had taught me to maintain a low profile, to keep my mouth shut, and to mind my own business. Besides, these women looked important, and I knew not everyone was up with the times.
What would Aspen Wolfe do?Maybe I could find the words to defend my fellow author without being offensive to the ignorant couple.
“The Literary Laurels Society—the premiere supporter of women loving women books and sponsor of this event—adopted a diverse platform several years ago to keep up with the evolving composition of our community. I see it as a win for everyone.” I smiled, pleased with my non accusatory defense of the conference’s updated policies.
The elegant redhead glanced my way, turning her nose up in derision. “Oh, it’s you.” She curled her lip. “The fraud.”
Like a flash of lightning, Winter Bliss whisked to the corner of my table and planted herself with arms crossed and a defiant chin raised. “Aspen is not a fraud! Do you think AI couldcreate such intricate characters and storylines?” She opened her posture long enough to wave a hand at the books on my table. “That was nothing but a nasty rumor. And she’s won awards from Literary Laurels, The Rainbow Quill, and Indie Authors International.” With that, she slapped her arms back into their disapproving, crossed position.
The older, butch woman emitted a dour laugh. “Now she’s got a troglodyte racing to defend her.”
“Hey!” I planted fists on my hips and glared at them, fury threatening. I didn’t get mad often, but these two were pissing me off. “How rude! You can’t talk about Winter like that.”
The tall, slender woman in the skirt twisted her face to her companion. “She doesn’t know who we are,” she commented as if I was ignorant white trash. Leveling her disapproval on me once more, she stated, “For all we know, you’re an actor hired to play the part of Aspen Wolfe.”
“Aspen is more genuine than you two,” Winter blasted, waving her skinny arms at the chic women.
