Blackburn

Guy Who Killed People and began to feel better. Artimus Arthur deserved a second chance to be himself, and Blackburn deserved a chance to meet him. The fact that Arthur understood human folly didn't mean he was immune to it. He was bound to backslide now and then.

Blackburn returned to the bookstore and waited outside, stamping his feet to keep warm. He had decided that he would not meet Artimus Arthur under the artificial conditions of the autograph session. Not only was Arthur less able to be himself under such conditions, but Blackburn would not be able to reveal his own true self either. There were too many other people around, too many leather yuppies and nouveau beatniks who, Blackburn had realized, were only buying Arthur's book because it was the hip thing to do, because they were intellectual blanks who craved not wisdom but a brush with celebrity. Most of them wouldn't even read the novel and wouldn't appreciate its truth if they did. Blackburn did not want Arthur to see him as one of them. So he would approach him when the autograph session was over, when the winter air had cleared the writer's head and neither he nor Blackburn would have to behave as anything other than what they were.

But more than a dozen of Arthur's admirers remained when the store closed at seven o'clock, and they all came outside with him, clustering around him like viruses attacking a healthy cell. The cluster moved down the street, and Blackburn followed. He was frustrated and cold.

The entourage swept Arthur into the coffee shop where Blackburn had eaten dinner. Blackburn watched through the window while they shoved tables together. Arthur stood apart, gripping the arm of Attractive Woman Number One. He swayed, looking as if he might fall if he released her. The woman was giving him a fixed smile and nodding at whatever he was saying.

As Arthur and his admirers sat down, Blackburn entered the shop and walked past them, taking a booth in the back. He unzipped his coat, and his copy of The Guy Who Killed People fell onto the table. He stared at the book to keep from staring at its author. Now was still not the time for them to meet, and he didn't want to draw Arthur's attention.

'Weren't you in a while ago?' a voice asked.

Blackburn looked up. A hairnetted waitress was standing beside the booth.

'Yeah,' he said. 'Decided I wanted some dessert. Banana cream pie.'

The waitress scribbled on her pad. 'That a good book?' she asked, nodding at The Guy Who Killed People.

'It's okay.'

The waitress waved a thumb at Artimus Arthur's group. 'One of those people writes books. At least, that's what they told me. If you're interested.'

'Thanks.'

The waitress left. Blackburn opened the novel and reread Chapters Three and Four, and half of Five. Then he glanced up and saw that his pie was on the table and that Arthur and his entourage were leaving. He closed the book and wolfed down three bites of pie, then dropped money on the table and went out.

Outside, the entourage was disintegrating. Some of the people were walking toward the bus stop, and others were getting into cars parked along the street. Artimus Arthur was still hanging on to the arm of the attractive woman and was speaking to two young men.

'I appreciate the offer, gentlemen,' he said, 'but Stephanie has offered to see me safely to my hotel, and I have full confidence in her abilities. Thank you for coming. I enjoyed our conversation.' He didn't sound drunk anymore.

The two young men turned and left Arthur with the woman. They passed by Blackburn.

'Think she'll fuck him?' one of them whispered.

Blackburn didn't hear the reply. He followed Artimus Arthur and Stephanie. There weren't many people on the sidewalks tonight, but there were enough that Blackburn didn't think he'd be noticed.

Arthur and the woman walked five blocks east to 4th Street and then down three blocks to the Clarion Hotel. Blackburn had dropped back until he was almost fifty yards behind them, and he ran to catch up when he saw them enter the hotel. If they were going to get on an elevator, he wanted to be sure he was on it with them.

They were still in the lobby, standing between a row of pay phones and the elevators, when Blackburn came inside. Arthur was leaning toward Stephanie and murmuring something, and Stephanie was leaning away, smiling and shaking her head. Blackburn went to the pay phone closest to them and pretended to make a call.

Stephanie kissed Arthur on the cheek, then walked past Blackburn and out of the hotel. 'If you change your mind,' Arthur shouted, 'I'm in Room Twenty-one Fourteen!' But Stephanie was already outside. Blackburn was glad to see her go.

Arthur stepped into an elevator with three other people, so Blackburn didn't try to get there before the doors closed. He wanted to meet Arthur alone, and now that he knew the writer's room number, he could be sure that he did. He went to the elevators after Arthur's car had gone and pushed the UP button.

The door to Room 2114 opened on the fourth knock, and Artimus Arthur stood there grinning. Then he saw Blackburn, and the grin disappeared. He leaned out and looked up and down the empty hallway. 'Oh,' he said. 'I was expecting someone else.'

Blackburn smelled liquor. He didn't like it. 'Hello, Mr. Arthur,' he said. 'I can't tell you my name, but I've read your novel, The Guy Who Killed People, and I wondered if you would sign the title page for me.' He unzipped his coat and pulled out the book. 'I'd also like to talk a while, if you have time.'

Arthur stepped back. 'You have the wrong room,' he said, and started to close the door.

Blackburn put a hand on the door to hold it open. 'I really think you'll want to talk to me,' he said.

Arthur glared at him. 'I'm doing a signing tomorrow at a Waldenbooks in St. Charles. Talk to me then.' He tried to shove the door shut, but it didn't move.

Blackburn shook his head. 'I was at your signing today,' he said. 'It was awful. None of those people knew your work, or what it means. And you… were drunk. Probably so you wouldn't have to think about those people.'

'If you don't leave right now,' Arthur said, 'I'll yell for help. There are a lot of people on this floor, and they'll call hotel security. Or the police.'

Blackburn held out The Guy Who Killed People. 'This book is about me,' he said.

Arthur's eyebrows rose. 'Excuse me?'

'The man in the book,' Blackburn said. 'The guy who kills people, but only when they deserve it. I'm him.'

Arthur's hands slid from the door, and he took another step back. 'You don't say.'

'If you'll give me a few minutes, you'll believe me,' Blackburn said. He entered the room and closed the door. 'You're the first person I've told about this. You can imagine why.'

Arthur's grin was creeping back. 'Oh, yes,' he said. He went to the nightstand and picked up an open fifth of Jack Daniel's. He grasped the bottle by the neck and took a drink. Then he looked at Blackburn. 'So you've sprung to life from the pages of my book, is that it? Must have been an easy birth. No water breaking, no straining. No blood.'

'That's not what I mean, sir,' Blackburn said. 'I'm not a lunatic.'

'I wasn't suggesting you were.' Arthur went around the bed to the window, taking the bottle with him. He opened the drapes. The Gateway Arch was visible on the far side of I-70. 'To believe you've been given life by words isn't lunacy. But to try to parachute down to land on top of that thing-' He pointed at the Arch. 'Now, that's lunacy.'