Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)
WHAT IS HE DOING?
“I mean, are you of the opinion that an HEA means it must conclude with a wedding and a baby? Or are there other, more non-traditional ways to end a story that could be considered a happily ever after? Just want your thoughts.”
Now, all heads turn to face me.
Did I put on deodorant? I thought I did, but I was off my routine this morning and—
“Ms. Lear?” The moderator follows up, as I have apparently failed to answer.
The faces staring at me loom large in the foreground of my vision, and I feel beads of perspiration forming above my upper lip.
“Hap—um… happily—HE—happy EA?” I think I might say. I also think I’m going to throw up. I look at Steve, an expression of ‘why?’ firmly on my face. Either he doesn’t read it or just pretends not to, because he just keeps looking at me, a stare of encouragement still on his. I think. “Well… I think, um, for me, an HEA doesn’t have to—”
“I say if it don’t end in a wedding and a baby it ain’t no HEA,” Ride-or-Die Grandma calls out.
Annnnnnd… that’s it.
If I had to tell you exactly how the first chair got thrown, I don’t think I could. But it happens. Because then another gets thrown. And then another. And, quite out of the blue, the whole room erupts in something that resembles a daytime talk show from the late twentieth century, with people shouting and a flurry of slaps and fists being thrown.
It’s really quite something.
I don’t even see Steve making his way to me on the podium area. The next thing I know, he’s draped himself around both me and Audrey Saint and is protecting us from a hailstorm of flying furniture as he shepherds us out of the room and shouts, “Call security!”
And as we’re just about out the door he adds what might be the understatement of the day: “Maybe we should think about scratching the Reader Rants panel next time.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I knew this was a bad idea!” Mercy says as the door to the conference room closes behind us. “I told you, Audrey. Didn’t I just say that when we were in line for coffee this morning?”
“Bitch,” Eden yells. “This was the best!” She does a fist pump in the air, like she just completed the final round of Ninja Warrior. “I hope my slave got it all on vid. I can’t wait to post it online.”
I just sigh. Eden, Eden, Eden. She’s a handful. But the fans love her, and she throws down the money for a giant booth every year, so there’s no way we’re not inviting her back.
“Slave?” That comes from Winter. “You mean, it’s not an act?”
Eden does a little roleplay on the socials. She’s got a ‘man with a collar on a leash’ thing going. So she snorts at this attack on her persona like she’s taking it personally. “Act? Act?” She lifts her head and guffaws. “I live the life.” And these words come out as a snarl. “I’m not some fake-ass—”
“Ya know,” Mercy interrupts, “you’re a real piece of work. People are probably hurt back there and here you are—”
“OK, OK, OK. That’s enough, ladies.” Audrey is the adult in the room. She looks at me. “We need to get help.”
I’m still holding Cordelia, but she’s beginning to wiggle in my arms. “Put me down!”
Then she’s slapping at me. I want to keep her in my arms and carry her off to safety, but she’s really squirming now. And swearing at me. So I set her down in the maintenance hallway—half a dozen workers staring at us curiously as they go about their business—and check to make sure she’s OK.
But this is going to be a disaster if I don’t take care of things, so I rush over to the nearest courtesy phone and ask for security in conference room B. Then I turn back to the group, eager to have a word with Cordelia, but she and Britney are already halfway down the wide hallway, almost disappearing into a crowd of maids.
I’m just about to take off after them when Audrey grabs my arm. “Steve! Are they coming? I don’t think it’s under control in there.”
We all look at the door and in that same moment, something crashes against it.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter.
“It was Ride-or-Die Grandma,” Winter says. “It was Ride-or-Die Grandma and her stupid comment about how long it takes to write books!”
“Damn right!” Eden says. “Fuckin’ Ride-or-Die Grandma. Kick her out!”
I put up a hand. “No one’s getting kicked out. Just… calm down. Security is on the way.”
“Should we go back in there?” Raven is asking. “We can’t just stand out here like cowards. We have to do something.”
“I’m out.” Eden turns her back to us, raising her hand over her head in a goodbye wave. “See you bitches at lunch.”