Page 49 of The Book Signing

Oh, and speaking of boyfriends… there is one that needs to be killed off.

“Hey, listen, I need to go. I’m exhausted. Kiss the kids from me.”

“Love, love. Chat soon.” She says, then hangs up.

I place the cell in my bag and leave the room, with a quick thanks to the step in for Amy, who wasn’t able to be there to assist during my session. I start to turn but pause and turn back towards her.

“Sorry, I was just wondering about another author that’s here.” She nods but says, “There are quite a few. Do you know the name of the author?”

My lips quirk as I say, “Yes. Jaxon Sunters.”

She smiles and says, “He’s finishing up right now, actually. He’s in room three.” Her polished fingernail points towards the door with a gold-plated ‘3’ and I nod in thanks.

Okay, now it’s time to face him.

I prepare myself mentally for what I am going to say. To admonish him for trying to sabotage myevent. As I get closer to the door, I notice the doors open and people leaving the room.

I stand to the side, arms crossed and feeling my whole-body tense as I note the various people filtering out. Some are typical playboy looking guys, practically copies of the covers on books. Others look sheepish, and some even look shy.

Still, they seem to be impressed with the shit Jaxon was spewing. I note a few that, as they walk out carrying his books, appear happy. They seem satisfied.

All I can do is watch these people and narrow my eyes to them, especially the books in their hands. I mean, people walked out from my signing with books too, but I was doing a motivational discussion. I provided them with books on self-worth and resilience. It kills me to know what these people read.

I linger for a few more minutes and then slip into the room where Jaxon is standing, finishing up a discussion with another man before he turns and walks off to chat to a woman.

Or chat up, considering he’s in this room.

I move quickly in Jaxon’s direction, then stop in front of him and point a pink manicured finger at him with my other hand planted on my hip.

“You!”

JAXON

What the hell?

I step back as an angry-looking Abigail points her polished nails at me.

“How dare you try to sabotage my event! I can’t believe after everything between us, you had the audacity to embarrass me and try to ruin my confidence. Even if we see things differently.”

Her tone is loud at first, but she finally realizes there are still staff lingering around, so she finishes on whisper-yells.

I shake my head, confused. “Abigail, I have been here the whole time. I didn’t step out to any other room, so I’m not sure what you’re talking about. I don’t deserve your random accusations.”

“Well, then why the hell did I see you in my function room? Throwing questions at me. I’m surprised you didn’t tell everyone to leave and follow you,” she waves her hand in the air, “here.”

This is not what I expected right after a decently successful ending to the event here. Instead, I am being scolded and accused by the woman that was tormenting my mind all throughout the event.

The thought angers me and I lose my fight not to retaliate.

“Look Abigail, I have been here the whole time. I have no interest in ruining your book signing. Just because you’re bitter that you found out I’m also an author, and that I am the guy that you feel ‘led you astray’, doesn’t mean you get to act so righteous!” I cross my arms, mirroring her as she looks at me with a mixture of anger and shock. “You’ve got to get it into your head that we had a pretty good time together and enjoyed the moments, then simmer in your cynicism.” I finish coldly, but my conscience sets off alarms in my head.

The one who is cynical is you. You’re the one who is bitter.

Suddenly, I hear the words in my head, the ones I spat out at her. The truth is, I became a real dick head the moment I realized sleeping around felt good, and I wrote about my experiences. My personality changed, triggered by unfaithfulness.

I feel the sting of the hurt in those beautiful blue eyes, knowing that I spurted out things that could have been worded differently. But that hurt turns cold, as she says, “I may seem cynical, but I’m not, because instead, I want to right the wrongs in my life. I use my past to help avoid repeating the same mistakes in my future. It may seem like I’m bitter about listening to you make an idiot out of yourself, but it’s disappointment in myself.” Abigailthen straightens her shoulders, adjusts her bag strap over her shoulder and says, “And self-righteousness? I wouldn’t call it that, but yes. I am proud of what I have achieved. How I turned myself around, or at least I’m trying to. I’m feeling fucking fantastic that I wrote a book which became a bestseller. Unlike you, I don’t need to walk around with a smirk, acting like I’m on top of the world, or show off my ego. On that note, I would say it was nice meeting you, but with you lying to me, and now sprouting bullshit to my face, well, you’ve bumped yourself down to Mr. Douche Bag.”

My jaw drops at her shocking retort.

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