“We have more in the back,” I said. “But back to that hanky I’m looking for . . .” I let my voice trail off, hoping one of them would jump in.
“I don’t think we’ve carried anything like that for a long time,” Trina said.
Dorothy thought for a moment. “Ramona Brooks liked that sort of thing. Someone brought in some family heirlooms, but that’s the last time we had anything like what you described. Sorry.”
Even
Adele chose that moment to make her entrance. Everybody turned as she sashayed toward me. In an effort to look like some pirate princess, she wore a full black skirt, part of which she’d caught in her belt, revealing far more thigh than anyone wanted to see. This was topped off with an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse. She had layered on a week’s worth of makeup, giant gold hoop earrings and a bandana tied around her head. The final touches were a big eyebrow-pencil-induced beauty mark and a toe ring on her bare feet. And she was acting as if nothing was strange.
She draped herself across the table set up in the front and toyed with the stack of books. Was it my imagination or did she run her fingers across the lower lip of the picture of Capain Blackhart?
“Pink, since you’re helping me out with the horror guy, I thought it only fair I help you out with tonight’s program. Besides,” she said, looking me up and down, “I’m dressed better and I talk his language.” She said the last part in her impression of a sexy growl. Being a woman, I guessed I was not a fair judge, but the voice thing didn’t work for me. As for the clothing issue, that didn’t work for me, either. My attire was businesslike, while she looked like she was on her way to a costume party. However, I had to admit, it was a crowd pleaser. People were even coming up to her to have their pictures taken with her. I heard some comments about the fun atmosphere. Maybe it was, but I was drawing the line at starting to wear costumes for book signings.
And I wasn’t helping Adele with the horror guy, as she called him. I was handling Milton Mindell’s extravaganza; she was the one doing the helping. I certainly didn’t need her assistance with Romance Night, but she had gone to a lot of trouble with the outfit and it seemed important to her. I shrugged to myself. Why not?
More people had come in, and almost all the chairs were taken. From the buzz of conversation I picked up a comment here and there about the cover model. Kat Wylde, the author, certainly knew what she was doing including him in her presentation. I’d never seen such a big turnout, nor felt such a high level of excitement.
I saw Rayaad waving at me. The cashier was holding the phone and pointing at me and then at it—sign language that there was a call for me. I had a good view of the area right in front of the door as I took the phone and said hello.
“Molly,” Dinah said in a whisper so low I could barely hear her. I held the ear piece closer, trying to hear her while I looked out the window.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, surprised to get a call from her at the store. “Why are you whispering?”
“I’m on my cell at the movies,” she said a little louder. I could hear swelling music in the background along with someone trying to shush her. Meanwhile I watched Kat Wylde get out of her Honda. The lights from the walkway spread out into the parking lot, making it easy to see her dusty rose-colored pantsuit. A man climbed out of a Ford Explorer, and by the way he was tugging at his black leather pants, I guessed he had a wedgy. There was no mistaking who he was. I recognized the flowing mane of raven black hair and the unbuttoned billowy white shirt from the cover of her book. All our signage referred to him as Captain Blackhart, and I realized I didn’t know his real name.
Kat marched over to him, and they fell into immediate discussion. Sparks were definitely flying between them, but not the hot, passionate kind. Their body language said they were arguing, and it continued as they approached the door.
“Molly, are you still there?” Dinah said.
I apologized and started to explain I sensed a crisis about to happen, but Dinah interrupted me.
“He’s here,” she said.
“Who’s there?”
“The bald guy. The one who had the Harrods bag. He’s sitting in front of me with some woman.”
“Are you sure? Tarzana seems to awash in bald heads,” I said, forgetting my crisis couple for a second.
“I’m sure it’s him.”
“Did you get his name?”
“You’re kidding, right?” she said. “What should I do?”
That was a good question and I didn’t have an answer.
The author and cover model had moved their argument inside. It was not good for business and I had to deal with it immediately. I told Dinah to keep an eye on the bald guy and I’d get there as soon as possible, then hung up.
Moving briskly, I stepped between Kat and Captain Blackhart and introduced myself, hoping to defuse their argument, but instead I became the referee.
“Would you tell her that I am not just a good-looking face and well-developed muscles,” he said. “My understanding was that I was going to get a chance to read some of my poetry.”
“And would you tell him that he is supposed to behave like the character in the book.”
I had only read selections, but it was enough to know Captain Blackhart was an alpha male, and more interested in being a swashbuckling pirate than settling down. The women in the book were breathless about him, despite his dark moods and who-cares-about-you kind of attitude. He was definitely not a poetry-writer type.
“He’s just supposed to read a selection from the book and maybe glower a few times and let the women take pictures with him. And that’s it,” Kat said.
Hoping to appease Captain Blackhart, I asked him for his real name, which was Eduardo Linnares. I persuaded Eduardo that if he agreed to read a selection from Kat’s book and do the photo thing tonight, he could come back and read his poetry another time. I said he’d be guaranteed a spot on Poetry Night. Up until that moment we hadn’t actually had a Poetry Night, but it sounded like a good idea.
Then I brought Kat and Eduardo up to the front of the crowd and introduced them, and they took over from there. I had to hand it to Kat; the idea of having him read was brilliant. The book started out as the pirate’s diary, and Eduardo’s deep voice was perfect for the copy. It was all about being at sea looking for some ships to rob and some women to have his way with. I thought everything was going fine until Eduardo stopped reading and looked out at the crowd. “I don’t know why you want to read about a guy like this. He’s a jerk.”
Kat put her hands over her eyes, and the whole group seemed to suck in their collective breaths in shock. When she recovered, Kat lunged for him. I blocked her, shut the book and announced we’d get right to the signing and anyone who wished to could take a photo with Eduardo. And by the way, there were complimentary scones and tea. That did the trick; the crowd rose from their seats and lined up.
I had discovered that unexpected turns of events and even catastrophes could actually help book sales, and this night was no different. We not only sold out of
Adele handled the photo line and tried to get in as many of the pictures as she could. Everyone seemed to want a picture of Eduardo kissing them, and he was very obliging. By the time he was done, his poor lips must have been chapped.
When I left the store, the crowd had dispersed and Eduardo was in conversation with Adele. I overheard him say something about how hard it was being a cover model and her saying she understood, but I didn’t listen more because I wanted to get to the movie theater to see Dinah and the bald man.
The theater was just down the street. It was a small art theater with three screens that had survived despite the push for fancy stadium seating and numbers of screens running into the double digits. The woman in the box office was just closing when I rushed up, and it was a struggle to get her to sell me a ticket. She must have said six times that the movie was in its last half hour, and there wasn’t a later show, and I should go to their sister theater in the city because it still had another showing. She gave me a funny look when I said all six times that I didn’t care. Finally, I told her I was meeting somebody and that seemed to satisfy her enough to sell me the ticket.
When I walked in the theater, there was a night scene going on and I couldn’t see anything. I hung at the back until it faded into morning and illuminated the screen enough for me to count the rows to find Dinah. It was lucky she had given me directions to find her because from here all I could see was the back of heads.
