Page 2 of A Beastly Christmas Cheerful
Crap, I did add that on there. I know how to drive-ish. I just never took the final test.
“Right.” I nod, because what can I say now? Sike!
“The place is a couple hours away.”
Turning the book around, I see the hardback is really nice. There is also a bunch of best-seller tags on it. The author's name even sounds familiar, but more in passing.
“So I can just show up at this man’s house and ask him to sign this?”
“Normally, no. Marley Jacobs lives a few hours outside of the city for a reason, but I guess someone owes Ms. King a favor. They talked to the author and know you’re coming.” He puts the keys to the car on top of the book. “I’d get going if I were you.” James nods out the window to the falling snow. I didn’t think it was supposed to get bad, but it’s really piling up. “Don’t fuck this up, Belle. You’re on thin ice.”
There is no way I can do this. I shouldn’t drive, especially not in a snowstorm.
“James, I?—”
“Who broke the new espresso machine?!” I hear Ms. King shout. I jump up from my chair and grab all my crap, along with the book and keys.
“I’ll get this handled. No problem,” I tell James before getting my ass out of there. I don’t stop until I’m in the parking garage and my phone pings with a text from James.
He’s sent me the number and address, and I smile when I see where it is. Mr. Scary Book lives right near Cheerful, the most festive little Christmas town ever.
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.
